Thursday, November 08, 2007

- A stitch in time saves nine.
- Time is of the essence.
- Time is wine.
- I made that one up.
- I like the stitch saying best.
- Why?
- Because they couldn't have known.
- True.
- But as a metaphor, it comes quite close to the truth.
- Surprisingly close.
- And if anyone had realized, truly realized, they'd be here now.
- Yes they would.
- So here we are.

It wasn't often that Marcus Meticulum, while making the rounds of the time corridor, chanced upon two Oriental girls sitting before one of the temporal portals, coquetting over the nature of time. Marcus had been Oriental once, but that was a long time ago. Time, to those who'd attained awareness, was so much more than a linear chain of instances, each the cause of the next. No. Every single moment stood in relation to every other moment that ever existed, or ever would exist. These met at intangible intersections woven into the fabric of existence. But once the concept was grasped, to reconcile it with the idea that the chronological second was nothing more than an arbitrary object - that was enough to boggle a Buddhist. What could you expect, when a single second held more infinity than all the other seconds combined? The very measurement of time was a concept that only the gods could comprehend, hovering as they did, above the idea, like clouds over tumbling raindrops.

Marcus halted before the girls, sizing them up. One was elegant in style and apparel, the other had the rough-hewn glance of street-wisdom. They might have been snatched from a rush of early 21st century commuters. Snatched by sudden awareness. It went with the territory of Eastern mentality. He felt an immediate affinity towards them, but could not say why. "How did you arrive here?" he asked, bowing before them.

"You know that already," spoke Street-wise.

"I suppose I do," he answered, a gentle smile imposing itself over the puzzlement he had shown in the first moment. To comprehend was to awaken into the center of time. That is what had enabled them to pass through one of the portals.

"And now?" Elegant intimated.

"We traverse the corridor together," he concluded, not as a demand, but as a statement of the inevitable.

And so they strode along, trading sayings about that inexorable object they had all come to fathom.

- Time heals all wounds.
- Time will tell.
- Time is on our side.
- My, how times flies.
- Third time's a charm.
- Time is relative...

As they vanished around the passageway's bend, their voices faded along with the footsteps, footsteps that sounded oddly like the tickings of a clock.

Story #412

Thank you everyone who wrote stories, and for being so patient with me in posting this one.


Madeleine has a couple of interesting new sites: Limilines about a new type of creativity and The Picture Plain with really cool photography.

Live@theGrouchoClub has a story "Locked Out" appearing in the Feel the Word magazine.

The Reverend Gisher has posted a story for Indeterminacy Photo #411.

Ian at Letters Home has posted something destined to become a classic: A Desiderata For Bloggers


Unknown said...

Escher's children never got old, never grew up and never found their way out of the wall which made babysitting them an experience worth sharing.

Ben Latini said...

Two Asian girls sat by a painting. I took their picture, and tried to explain to them why it was funny--what I'd done. I took them to a ska show and we swayed in the back under dim light. They smiled a lot, but they didn't want to dance, until I gave them my Adderall. Their smiles became fiery and blurred and, in the midst of the crowd, I can't remember which one I kissed. In the morning, at a coffee shop with our eyes dim and our heads down, I can't remember which is which. Who spoke the better English? Who got a little frisky--tried to touch my dick? Rather than deal with such complications, I stole one of their purses and tried to forget them as I ran under an agressive sun.

I'm about to get married next week. My wife found their picture. I told her they were my sisters, and I think she believed me, because we were drunk.

Anonymous said...

Reality was a harsh and unfair place. If there was anything Kiera and Astra had learned, it was that.

They had been told to try before giving up. And the two of them had tried. At first it had carried a strange allure to them as tourists. So much beauty and terror! But as time went on, they found the evil and the wrong. At least they had an escape. There was no escape for the humans and no choice in their coming and going. They felt terrible for the inhabitants. For them, there was no self-pity, since they had resolved not to share such a fate.

The folk of their former home had told them it would take bravery and strength. They said it could be wonderful to the right people, and that there was plenty of beauty and wisdom to be brought back. Kiera and Astra had decided that they were not the right people. They could not find enough beauty.

They had sought and they had wished, and at last they had found the doorway back to where they had come and were going. The world of the Surreal would only seem better to them now...

(can I never write anything short?)

Acquaintance said...

Thanks Indie,

I read your comment back to mine, all you have to do to change the background color is go to the customize link up top and click on the color and fonts tab then click the background color and choose whichever color you like best to fit for your blog. I didn't know you could change the color either til I experimented around and found that out.

Well, whenever you get around to writing story 408 I'll read it when you finish it.

If I have time to I'll think of something to write for this photo. I like the new photo a lot. :D

Take care :)

Diane Dehler said...

This is an intriguing picture and I'll be back to read what people come up with. Thanks for the links; those are interesting blogs Indy.

Anonymous said...

I'm glad you are back posting the photos, as I so enjoy reading the stories.

rev. billy bob gisher ©2008 said...

thanks for the props. hope your situation just keeps getting better.

Becca said...

Hey Indie! sorry you haven't heard from me in so long, I've been super busy! But anyway! It was you that requested more music from me, wasn't it? Well I uploaded two recordings I made today, "evil gal blues" by Aretha Franklin, and the classic "Fly Me To The Moon". Here are the links:

EDIT: Fly Me To The Moon coming soon!

Unknown said...

Kimi desperately wished that her sister Nita would tell her wretched little goblin of a son to get his ill-behaved butt off the table before Aunt Kimi went Samurai on his ass. At the same time, Nita was thinking what dreadfully stuffy little prigs Kimi's children were and it was all she could do to keep from smacking them upside the heads with a bo-stick to get some sort of a reaction out of them.

Anonymous said...

It was times like this that made their penchant for art so intimate...the ability to interact with the art on a level most people would never have the chance to do. The girls were stretching their budget to attend this gallery but it had all been worth it. At first they thought it would be funny and cute to have a picture taken that insinuated they were a part of this scene but the reality of it? Being part of a work of art means so much more. A casual observer is hard pressed to meld into the picture itself...if only in their mind. The real art is the scene coming alive in the onlookers imagination. The memories it conjures up or makes anew.

bloodmother said...

Stretching the limits of perception, punching holes in human concepts of reality were Yakov’s joy.

The hermetic corridor with cracking pillars entered the viewer’s domain. Using perfectly balanced geometrics and shading, and with the addition of innocent children engaged in anonymous, but exotic play, he created a graphic novelist’s dream.

Their pink skin outlined in bold contrasted with the yellow-hued visitors, but who is to say where the canvas stopped?

Yakov liked to play, and blended the geometries with pattern and humor, stylishly painting in a photographic style that left nothing out — the mucousy gleam of teeth, the blood behind the eye, the carefully balanced crouch, the sweep of hair and pointed shoe.

The two women in the forefront of the piece were from the artist’s imagination, as well. Yakov and painted art interacting with art.

C Merry said...

They couldn't decide sometimes if they were happy or sad they didn't make it to the other side. Their friends never aged, would probably never die unless the wall was torn down.. but every year on that day they came to visit them, show them they were okay, growing up, doing things. They'd bring pictures of pets and family left behind. Is pure immortal perfection a worthy dream? They may have to grow up and cry on some days struggle on others and one day they will become old, and they will pass away. They also noticed when it was time to go and they'd run outside to the aging mortal struggling world - they were happy.

M.P. said...

Hi there.... Nice to see you're back as ever... Hope your wife is improving day by day and you can get back to blogging in the way you do and motivate us to... :)
Well here goes what I thought of after the first glance at this pic which happens to be rather intriguing:
"They didn't know what to do, where to go, where to find some help. They could have gotten out of there but some sort of scent kept us inside that room, glued to that floor.
All that space they saw themselves arrested at was like a maze:every wayout would lead to that very entrance no matter the path they would choose to run away.
Some of them were already working on a map which would possibly allow their release from that puzzling place they had been attracted to with no apparent explanation. Those who didn't believe the release could be achieved with the help of that map the others had been so keen on making up suddenly spotted somebody in front of them observing all that scene pf affliction. That somebody was holding a gigantic digital camera with a particularly huge lens.
They forgot about the map, got hold of the camera, unlocked the lens and got into the camera.
There they found the world of each one's imagination."

ming said...

what is really real? Really?

The OE said...

The Lion, The Witch, The Wardrobe, and The Two Squatting Schoolgirls

Anonymous said...

The sun still rose everyday even though the world had all but ended after the last round of atomic bombings. All that remained now were a few Asains who had been hidden deep within the bomb shelter during the attacks. Though nobody seemed to care since most everyone was already dead.

DW2 said...

Rosa and Kali thought the game was going their way until they realized that the children had no intentions of giving up their best marbles. They tried to convince the little girl to play with the star agate, but she shook her head and dropped a smaller one made out of a green milk glass. No one seemed to notice the passage of the sun along the columns. Rosa and Kali watched as more of their marbles spun out of the circle with each turn. They were left only with the pretty bags that had carried the round stones. As the mirror-door shimmered, the children gathered their new treasures to leave. The dark-haired girl turned to look at Kali. Before the portal closed, she handed over the star agate with a shy smile.

Diane Dehler said...

I like the multitude of esoteric flash fiction this evoked. -another winner, Indy.

Anonymous said...

I went to the photo site and the "Desiderata," which were both great. "Desiderata" had just the right Khalil Gibranish fatuousness.

Anonymous said...

Mesmerized by the possibilities of communications with the three magic youngsters the two Asian seekers of truth knelt in reverent repose.
“Oh young Buddha’s, keepers of the True Knowledge of the Human Soul, please bestow upon us the enlightenment we so desperately desire.” Hiroki humbly begged.
“Great and wise youth of the Soul, hear our prayer and reveal to us that which we must realize to become one with the Universe. With out your grace we are unable to realize the true propose of our lives.” Mieko added with a air of desperate spiritual desire seldom relinquish from the depths of a human heart.
“You guys have been punked.” The hidden voice behind the camera blurted. “That’s just a bunch of painted kids on a wall playing jacks.”
And in the moment of laughter that followed, both Hiroki and Mieko attained the enlightened smiles they had so earnestly prayed for.
Scott A. Brayer

The Mushroom said...

Thanksgiving with the Tromp-L'oeile kids was seldom nourishing but the conversation was good.

Anonymous said...

Thank you, Mushroom. I was slow on the uptake as to what this photo was all about.

Happy Thanksgiving, Indie.

Diane Dehler said...

Hi Indy,
Just stopped to read your latest story posts and say hi. It is nearing the solstice and the days are so short and the nights long. Fortunately, there is more time for moon viewing.

Cie Cheesemeister said...

Hoping your family is doing well. I know they don't do Thanksgiving in Europe, but happy belated Thanksgiving anyway.

DeLi said...

Jean & Mariele were just passing by the orpahnage.AFter their good ole' AUnt Mary pleaded them to drop by the package for teh children. Aunt Mary, cant drive today,she needs rest.

Eager to be on their way to their ffirend's party, they sped trhough. BUt they were unprepared for those big pany eyes, and sweet smiles that greet them. Nor the eager hand opening the package and shouting for pure joy as they get their gifts.

Yes, Jean and Mariele were caught, and suddenly finding themselves happily enjoying the presence of the children.

Acquaintance said...

Hey Indie,

Hope everything's okay?

I'm sending you a heads up about that I changed my URL address in case you happen to come by and my page can't be found.

Take care and hope you write a story soon. :D


April's Place said...

As they looked beyond the doorway, it was as if they were peering back in time 10 centuries a far away land with children dressed in ancient desert clothing.... Was it the architecture of Egypt or Greece or?....they could only guess, as within minutes they doorway they happened to open-closed just as quickly and the children returned to the time and place they belonged.

Indeterminacy said...

Finally after posting my story I can turn to the wonderful task of reading everything that you've posted here. Thanks everyone for sharing your creativity! To everyone who asked, my wife is doing great - she's fully recovered from the accident, which is a miracle in itself, one we are all very thankful for. I've tried to spend more time with her, and with my son during these weeks, so it wasn't easy to think of stories.

Doug: How simple it was, and I needed an entire month!

Live@theGrouchoClub: You paint such a vivid story. It was very fun and breathtaking to read, but so have been all your stories.

talespin: I wish there was a surreal world we could escape to. If we wrote about reality there that would be like

Mavin: Thanks for the reminder - I still have 408. One of these years I'll catch up

Princess Haiku: You're welcome! There are so many interesting blogs out there that have to be mentioned. I read in an interview about how blogs are indexed in which was claimed of all the millions of blogs out there, only one percent ever receive visitors - so if you find something worthwhile, tell your friends about it.

cooper: Don't know if you'll enjoy this story - it was such a struggle to write it, and I kept rewriting the ending until I felt it worked.

rev. billy bob gisher: You're welcom. And yes, things are finally back to what I can call normal.

Odoriko: Thanks for the song! I was very happy to hear it. Can't wait to hear more. I love your rhythm.

Lily Strange: Looks like those kids got knocked upside the wall! So much so that they look like wall paintings.

Ba Doozer: Wow! Your story goes well with a previous one I wrote. Different words, but skirting around the same idea. Incredible! (Story 226)

sandra: Incredible story! Where are the borders between reality and art. Not so clear anymore.

Happy LOL Day: I never thought of it, but there is a sense of devotion visible in the photo - you found it quite easily!

M.P.: It's very nice to see you stop by and that you wrote something. Your story picks up well on the irreal aspect of the phot. I wonder where that actually was taken, and what the paiting is supposed to be.

ming: Sometimes only a simple question is needed.

The OE : Lions and witches and wardobes. Oh my!

sniff: Your story was chilling - and one we may actually live to see, or not live to see, which is more likely. Thanks for contributing!

DW2: Your story is wonderful! A magical interaction between the image and reality. I wish I'd have thought of it.

Princess Haiku (again!): I'm enjoying reading through these!

weirsdo: Letters Home to You is going to be really big some day - it's amazing how fast Ian's readership has already grown in such a short time. He keeps coming up with classic after classic, posts that are right on the pulse of things.

Scott: I like the naturalist touch of your story, in a situation where something irreal seems so obvious. So no one expects the ending that comes. I know if I have a photo that is extremely erotic in some way, I try to write a completely non-erotic story. I think that works better.

The Mushroom: Food for thought, you caption. Always the master, and that reminds me I have to stop by Laughter is the Spackle of the Soul for your monthly round.

Cheesemeister: Thanks for the Thanksgiving greetings - well, we had a lot to be thankful for this time around. I for one miss pumpkin pie. Will somebody please visit me and bring a pumpkin pie with them!

DeLi: Sweet story - kids can be addicting, can't they?

Mavin: Thanks for the tip! I'll update my links.

April: Finally! I was wondering if it was just me, or why no one else had thought of another time when they saw that painting. I want to find out where that was and go there, to have a look at the other times.

Irene Grumman said...

Time telescopes in the retelling of old stories. Check out the audiotape by Seamus Heaney of his own translation of Beowulf.

What a marvelous outpouring of creativity around time. Thanks for your provocative story. May all your family and friends be very well.

C Merry said...

Time travel stories to me, always seem lonely. To us the reader because we know we are excluded in the adventure and to the traveler because eventually the ones they love are gone, or will become fearful if they discover what is going on. You have actually created a story that isn't lonely somehow :)

Thank you for your comments, you always add a sparkle to everything.

Indeterminacy said...

Irene: Thank _you_ for taking your time to stop by and to read these. I think it was a great set of stories this time around.

Cmerry: I never thought of that aspect of time travel stories, but I think you are right. Anyhow, since childhood I've been fascinated by time travel (isn't everyone?) - hence my return to this theme from time to time. P.S. Your comment made my day.