Flash Thursday
As We DreamToothless gambling, homespun madrigals, wide-eyed ablutions, the Navel of God in the marketplace, meccas of tenuous acubation. The Angel of Gawd yawned into the crystal night, never-vescent, a darkness cold as the Western Seas. We wept to see her decline, tears and avatars splitting time between now and the last pearl of the systemic down. I’d wandered far and never before seen such waste—jettisoned carpenters of wisdom, castabouts, signal territories, adjutants of tired glory.
“Fill the ends, narrow the straits, pillory the rottenness of the world as we dream its terrible ruin.”
She sat with her head upon the table, drooling beyond all semblance of rational thought, apple-cheeked innocence overrun by the sewers of acutorsion, five-headed arteries, dying fires in kestrel desolation.
I ventured farther: inventoried waifs filled the warehouses of despair. Color ran in the streets, color vomited in the air. There was little left beyond increments of the deranged, severaled beyond repair. The seas were upon us, the fetid cries from within.
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posted by murat11 at 4:08 PM
16 Comments:
I thought flash fiction was just a flash to read. No flash-in-the-pan writing here, though, and you found the perfect picture accompaniment, too. This piece reminds me exactly of the estranged desolation I felt during my only visit to Tokyo.
anno: This one was spurred by a weird contortion of reading Flannery's "The Life You Save May Be Your Own" (talk about desolation) to my juniors and a futuristic story entitled "Cold Equations" to my middlers. Toss in an image from "Blade Runner" and voila. That Tokyo desolation you describe reminds me of watching Sofia Coppolla's "Lost in Translation."
It's probably not a good thing to say, but flash fiction is a great writing channel for many of my students. They seem to love it and, luckily for me the reader, it elicits lots of wonderfully surreal pieces.
So many thoughts expressed in a short space, yet it reads fluently.
Thank you, Stan: think dreamspace, think surrealism, think mowing the cranial lawn.
Wonderfully surreal sounds much more fun than whatever you would find in the five-paragraph essays I remember, a good deal for both you and your students.
Feel like trying an L?
Wow - this one I get as long as I don't think too hard the meanings (for me) the many layers and yes - the pic from Blade Runner...I like, I like.
oops - flannery has wicked humor, when I finally read "a good man is hard to find" - i had to laugh...cause ya just might not to find one ;-)
By all means, jsd. Too much thought would spoil the delicate brew. Think, perhaps, wine: hints of this, hints of that: the drooling apple-cheeked innocent was straight out of Flannery, melded with Who's Next / TSEliot futurism. And probably Bugs Bunny to boot. Love to you all.
FOC was indeed the wicked witch of Milledgeville, GA: the peacock queen of papist fundamentalism. How much more gothic can you get? More crotchety you'd be "hard to find," but you gotta love the fiction. Anyone who can blow the minds of my juniors and elicit passionate desires to burn her books, while you can tell she still got right to the hearts of them: ah, that's satisfaction indeed.
anno: Wonderfully surreal is exactly what I would get if I tried the five paragraph prompt on personal hygiene (or somesuch other issue of national import). I'm down with the L: more later.
I'm just amazed at the word: never-vescent...how clever is that?! Wow!
That one was for you, Ms. Mood. Boa noite. Ms Amos is on the box now. "Talula."
I love flash and yours is extremely fine - lots of poetry in it and the imagery bounces!
Thank you, tumblewords: a blogname like that, how could you NOT love flash? Welcome again.
Ooh, the last paragraph especially! And in the last paragraph especially, especially color ran in the streets, color vomited in the air... Choice! Well, as always :-)
But definitely not a place to vacation, Lady A. A quick bite to eat, perhaps, but you'd want to sleep in your own bed.
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