Soon. Soon I will be ready. I collected them one by one, fragments and scraps of stray sensibility drifting by in the electrical air, feelings feminine, tenses masculine. I shuffled these splinters intensely for the synthesis of what they will be. I sense it now growing within me, building to crescendo, edging the complex climax into its catalytic moment, that aureate fusion of the shards. Then I will feel it, then I will show it to all who see me, shuddering into outburst, a flash of satin tones, to laugh and cry at once, moved by love and despisement in shimmering hues from fear to serenity. And then, then I will offer myself to the felicitous face that passes with hesitation. Take me down from the wall to be thy mold. Cover thyself with my meticulous emotion, woven in breakable porcelain. Story #350
Thanks for all the stories! They have been reposted at indeterminacies.blogspot.com.
29 comments:
When Emorie was a little boy he used to love art and sculpture but would settle for looking at mannequins in department stores and dreaming, wishing and hoping...if only. It wasn't an easy life and there was no money but he did the best with what he had and ended up in the place he almost wanted to be. He danced, he sang and he made a name for himself. When the famous porcelain artist J Mirroeu immortalized him after the Transsexual Times named him person of the year he was as content as he would ever be.
Hahaha, Alice. How can I be Person of the year?
Little Allie was playing with dolls when her father gave her the news.
"Daddy!!! We can't move!" casting a hand over the dolls, Allie went on, "All my friends live HERE!"
"Alice, it'll be OK," her father answered in what he hoped would be a calming voice, "your friends will come with us." His daughter looked doubtful.
The day of the move, Allie's dad and mom and Allie got into a car, the trunk of which was filled with her toys, Except one. Esther, the mannequin, was left on the street behind the car. When the bad voices told Alice to "MURDER," it had been Esther, and only Esther who told Alice to wait.
"Do you think we did the right thing?" Allie's dad asked Allie's mom.
"Of course, honey. It always made me nervous how often she talked to that head.
It was much too hot to start digging, so everyone was waiting for the sun to go down, beside the fact that the Roby-bot hasn’t arrived yet, without the bot it was inthinkable to prospect
on archeological sites, all findings, artefacts were to be analized, photographed and published
in the first second of its discovery.
“ Why does it take so long to get that bot over” asked Sinnia to Mester Kanton in charge of logistics, Mester spat on the ground and pointing to a spot on the horizon “ Here it comes I think but we can’t start the digging just now, we have to set up the bot first”.
After the glider came to a stop in front of the camp and that Mester signed few papers and a receipt, tech-team assembled Roby over the spot where Sinnia had to lead the hand-digging,
It din’t take too long but they had to install a conditioning tent over Roby and by the time it was done and projectors’ lights put over the site it was too late to do anything, after five O’clock the syndicate would not allow workers to do anything.
Next morning the digging started, Roby was turned on and Sinnia did her best so not a piece of stone or bit of anything pass by unnoticed, Roby shot pics of the grounds every second and by noon there was a hole 2-3 yards deep and 3-4 yards wide. Twelve O’clock on the dot everyone stopped digging (syndicate) and Sinnia swore under her breath.Chow time.
By 14:00 the work could begin (syndicate) and to everyone’s surprise the vacuum hose
swept an iron surface clean of sand by 14:08 “waterproof iron door” announced Roby,
“heavy type-rectangular-was used to separate old boat’s compartments-approx 60 Ks of
weight.....” Sinnia turned out the sound and finished for the bot “ the hand weel must be turned counterclockwise in order to open......Yak Yak yakidiyak”
By 14:15 an innert gaz was injected in a hole drilled through the steel door,heavier than air.
14:25 Sinnia ordered to open the door and it was surprisingly easy.
14:38 Sinnia, in diving suit enters slowly and brings along Roby’s gear and camera.
14:46 after being shot and described by Roby the first artefact came out of the hole.
“Very ancient,probably 4000 years old, made approx 10-20 years AG (after Gates)......
it’s one of the very first computers-what’s left of it-handle with care please...”
followed a listing of 143 artefacts that Sinnia and Roby handed out to conditioning workers
that packed them one by one, protecting them from shocks....’till 17:00 and stop(syndicate).
They found a load of paper sheets the next morning each sheet was peeled up carefuly to discover the next one, as they removed them they noticed that they became whiter and in better states than the top ones, somehow the thickness of the pack protected the undersheets
from degrading. It was 15:28 in the afternoon that Roby shot a picture of a sheet filled with
old scripts and color of old photos that soon started to fade, but the bot had shot the page and
the copy that Sinnia handed to Jon Staol, the linguist, looked very fresh and new,
“Amazing” said he “the first picture looks like a mask of plastic, her hat seems not to hold on her head very well and the two black straps over the shoulders indicate she has a knapsack
of some kind, next picture of five young girls fully dressed up, and the portrait of that bearded man on the right side, amazing” “ The plastic girl must be a mortuary mask, I think, but what amazes me most is the scripts top of page, the big ones, it says in Old English that the bearded young man was synchronizing something that was not determinated.......or something like that. Amazing,Sinnia”
When her relationship with the sculptor was still very new, she had been flattered by his ambition to "capture" her. Now faced with the creation, Fran's palms are slick with sweat.
"My hair is not cadmium red," she thinks to herself. "He's made me look like a drag queen...Is that really what he thinks of when he looks at me?"
But when the sculptor finally turns his attention to her reaction, he looks so hopeful, so proud, and Fran finds she simply does not have the heart.
"I love it," she lies and even manages to encourage him with a smile.
The sculptor sighs deeply. "Wonderful," he says.
The lovers embrace and he kisses the top of her head, but then drawing away inspects it a bit closer. "Darling," he purrs, "have you ever thought of dying your hair?"
Mutha, is this where we met? That's a great twist on Pygmalion. Well done.
Like all cereal killer's Mr. Indecency colected trofies!!!! This was his faverit! He had stole it from a basket of magnet's on the counter in the toy store on his last trip to buy victim's!!!
But he had pickt the rong refridgerater magnet to tangle with!!!!! At first Selest was in shock as she serveyed the carnige!!!!! Plastick arm's, legs, heads and torsoes were evrywhere, sometimes just laying in heaps, other times Krazy Glood together in bazar combinashon's!!!!!
If he hadent of been so intent on Barbie maming, may be Mr. Indecency woud of noticed as Selest's stare hardened into stone!!!!!!!
But all he noticed was that he seemed to of lost his appetite!!!!! Evry time he aproched the fridge, a seductive voice seemed to whisper in his ear, "Not yet!!! You're work is to importent!!!!" and he woud have a strange urge to go back to his demented persuit's!!!!!
Gradually he grew thinner and thinner, untill he was so week he just layed there on the floor amid the reckage!!!!
That's when Selest struck.
Responding to her stare, detached lims gatherd together in grate wheel's, roling tord him over the linnoleum!!!! Bundle's of plastick bodies struck him repetedly!!!! The hed's bounced crazilly against him, biting where ever they struck!!!!!
"Rat's!!!" the police guest!!!!
But Selest new. It was REVENGE OF THE BARBIE'S!!!!!!!!!!!
Myrna finally found a headband that would keep her locks in check and still feel comfortable. She wished it came in a color complementary to her hair, like black or green, but she wore it proudly nonetheless.
Doug; The little girl waved goodbye with tears in her eyes. And soon after, a Steven King story ensued.
verification word of the day: papjst - isn't that a Dutch person who believes that the human leader of the Catholic church is infallable?
ROTFL @Pansi! Indie, I've always suspected you are a cereal killer or something...
Mutha, I liked your story a lot.
verification word of the day is "hgmyze", and it reminds me of absolutely nothing. (although when I try to pronounce it, I feel like an cadillac that cannot start.)
"I am going now and I bid a very fond farewell to everyone, who might be sadened by my absence. I am going now because I feel trapped in this word like an alien bird in a cage. For years I watched life shrink and finally disappear. For years I watched beauty wither and people leave. Everything is so futile and since there is no meaning in life, there might be one in death."
We found this note near the dead body of Mary Ann, a distinguished actress and author.
A Quasi-Ghazal for the Redhead
Darling! forgive how I stare!
but what have you done to your hair?
As red as your lips! who'd believe it?
I've been looking for you everywhere!
And why are you here in this window
aloof while displaying your flair?
is your mind in a far-away meadow?
do your eyes betray love or despair?
What a comical ruse you enact!
does your headband suggest that you care?
who'd suppose that you're wearing in fact
my long-ago-lost underwear?
Raphael is bemused & bewildered
by the streetlamp he offers his prayer
remember your lover Ardeo
whose breast (alike yours) is laid bare
d.i.
Am I real? I can hear and I feel emotion, and I can smell things, but I cannot speak. I cannot move either.
I am worn on a fat lady's lapel. She seems fond of me, but I am not very fond of her. She wears way too much perfume and not enough deodorant. She also is very fond of garlic and onions.
Israel made a cool poem out of this number, I like it a lot.
I just had time to post my story, and see that a rich set of stories awaited me here. I'll read and comment tonight. Thanks all of you, so much!
All life seems so fragile. You use some really cool words, just wish we knew what they all mean.
Alice: thanks for your story - I have very few that get into the gray area between genders. I like the way you did it.
Doug: That's a nice (and eerie) twist on that Twilight Zone episode "Living Doll" in which the doll was evil and tried to kill the father. I've get to post more Zonish stories in the last spurt.
Gerard: Your story surprised me severan times, first I did not imagine this was taking place in the future until the After Gates passage, and then it got really clever, Twilight Zonish even. I love those stories, and thanks for the tribute. I also had an archeology story long ago which was dedicated to the vanished blogger Retarius; who has by now completely vanished.
Mutha: I love the creepy artist-subject manipulation in your story. It makes me wonder what will happen next - it seems to be moving in morbid directions.
Pansi: I didn't know you had such a horrible imagination. Too bad you never learned how to write, you might have had a brilliant career writing Twilight Zone comics. Now I am glad I threw all those parts in the fireplace.
Poirot: What a sad story. It goes with the territory, I suppose. But do you think this was really suicide?
David: Great to see you stopping by again! Lots of wonderful surprises in your poem. The underwear made me laugh. Thanks for the poetic contribution.
Jamie: That's a horrible fate, for the passive little object "she" was. And that's probably exactly what goes through her mind each day, unable to do anything about it.
Tom&Icy: I used a thesaurus this time. But I'm afraid I don't know for sure what the story means either. I think it could mean several things, or nothing.
P.S. I enjoyed these stories very much - I love the afternoon eerieness they gave me.
Good story, Indie. "Masculine tenses" is a genius line. By the way, I think the Retarius story was the first one I read here.
Thanks Doug. I thought of "tenses masculine" after I drank my coffee. But I wasn't sure if it would work, as it somewhat redefines the word, or uses it in an unfamiliar context. Now if we could only figure out what the story means!
I thought your story was similar to Pansi's, Indie. In both cases, the figure gathers energy to spectacular, possibly destructive, effect.
What do you mean I cant rite!!!!!???????
And this is no april fools people shoud no the truth about YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mrs. Weirsdo: !?!?!? I'm writing on a level with Pansi? This is going to put me in therapy.
Pansi: I'll make Pansi Pizza out of you. You'd be surprised how barbie dolls melt when it gets hot, just like cheese.
Maybe this will help, Indie:
You are BLOCHALELA! Kind and generous to a fault, you have empathy for all living things, and especially those less fortunate than you. By the same token, you are quick to jump into a fray if you believe injustice is being done. On the whole you are worthy of more praise than censure, but beware a tendency to meddle, and remember to take care of yourself, along with the rest of the world!
THAT IS SUCH A LIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU LIED ON YOU'RE QWIZ AND YOU NO IT!!!!!!!!
Pansi, I love your story. and every word was true, wasn' it? I mean... you couldn't make up such a horror story, a gentle lady like you.
Indie, "a flash of satin tones" is so beautiful.
Raphael, that's a very funny poem. when I see my man with my underwear around his head, I'll know he has a thing for me...
poor Mary Ann. good thing the train that cut her arms and body off left her face intact.
Mrs. Weirsdo: My god, this is uncanny. I think I really am like that. This works better than horoscopes.
Pansi: Please calm down. It's nothing personal. It's just a compulsion.
Ariel: THanks. I wanted that phrase to be in there somewhere, but it took me a while to work it into the right place. I'm so glad you liked it.
It's uncanny, she looks a lot like Cindy.
delightfully poetic Indie.
It started out as a simple Barbie Head (TM) that Mindy got for Christmas. She did the usual things... lipstick, eyeshadow, braiding the brittle doll hair.
Eventually, Mindy got bored with her Barbie Head. The first casualty: Barbie Head's hair. Mindy cut it all off. She regretted instantly, and tried painting it red. It didn't look quite right, so she took her little sister's disguarded underwear and made a makeshift hair ornament.
In the end, Mindy thought, her Barbie Head was starting to look like a prostitute from the 40s. Horrified, she discarded it.
It wound up in the attic for years, until Mindy's mother discovered it and put it up for sale at the church yard sale.
A restauranteur (and an amateur art collector) came by the yard sale and was impressed. He bought it for $1.50, and today it is proudly displayed among the other curio in his upscale bistro.
An Altered State: Wow, yeah. I thought she looked familiar. She also reminded me a little of my favorite Twilight Zone episode, "After Hours" in which the mannequins come to life.
Cooper: After I've finished all 360 stories, I will write you a poem. I promise.
Aral: Thanks for contributing! I think your story, along with Jamie's, might really have happened. I have trouble writing anything that comes close to realism. You will have to teach me how, someday.
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