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Thread: I wrote a thing. I have no idea what it is. Hi.

  1. #1
    El Shagmeister
    Registered: Jul 2000
    Location: Under your fingernails.

    I wrote a thing. I have no idea what it is. Hi.

    Mind's been stuck on a loop. Trying to write very short shit to unclog it. Here's something I wrote out of the blue today. Felt like sharing. No big twist or anything, just an unpolished wut. Feel free to comment, or not.

    <3

    ----------------------
    Place reeked of tequila gone bad and sweat from feverish dreams. Downed two shots for the trip; bad habits die hard. Truth is, I wanted something to wake me up, even as I felt my throat burning in acid. Itís been God-knows how long since I had a good nightís sleep. Days all pile into one; half the time I try to put some order in my head, the rest is just counting minutes, making them drag as long as I can. Most of the time Iím not sure where Iíll end up when the sunís set.

    Roll, roll, roll. The road stretches without end; a strip of black cutting the horizon in half, dotted by short white lines. Timid smiles over asphalt, crossing a desert painted in jaundice hues. A dying land, or dead. I donít know. The air tastes of rust, things forgotten, left to bake under a punishing sun -itís so dry my lips crack and peel like a lizard. Two hours driving towards nowhere, I think. Two hours with the heat covering my car, turning it into an oven. Windows are down, but itís oven-hot air that rushes in. Two hours since I left El Mezcalito. Last drink hole within a hundred miles or more.

    I donít even know why Iím doing this. Canít remember how I got here. A moment ago four walls surrounded me, there was a bed. Mine. Doesnít matter. Iím here now, or was. The desert is a blur when my head turns to either side, but keept still ahead. Cacti and the odd rock jutting here and there at odd angles break the monotony, until they become part of it. The cacti are giraffe-tall, how much would it hurt to hug one naked? The car purrs like a cat all too content on its lot. I envy it. Ignition on, ignition off. Check the tires. Fillíer up, check the oil. Change the tires. Fix, fill, check. Check, check, check. Itís life is a list to mark down. Must be nice.

    The back of my frontal teeth itch, I use my tongue to scrape and scratch it away. There always seems to be an answer on its tip, desperate to get out, but even if I open my mouth, nothing comes out. What was the question? Hell if I know. I donít even know who I am. Sure, I was someoneís kid. Everyone is. But that was a long time ago. P & M were there at the beginning. Said I was too quiet. There was a lot of noise back then, it tired me. Mostly, it came from P, but then M would make noise too. Then one day P was gone. Gone? Dead? Donít know if I cared then. Donít know. Me and M managed; she did the best she could. They set me up with their faults, as people, as two-in-one. Maybe thatís why I never wanted anything serious with anyone. Hi-sex-bye-next. Why make someone unhappy by sticking around like a mouth sore? Move along now, another pair of thighs will keep me warm.

    I donít need anyoneís company. I got me. The silence is a better listener than anyone else anyhow.

    Pink twilight is fading into black and pinprick lights. Night comes in taking its time, nobodyís going anywhere anyways. Soon enough thereís two circles of light on the fading asphalt. My faithful metal steed.

    Sheís a good one, the coyote speaks. I donít know when did it got into the car, but it sits on the seat next to me. Sleek fur coat, shiny, the color of flame atop a pyre. Viking funeral pyre. I want to go up in flames one day, take the World with me, not because I hate it, but just to see it come alive. The coyoteís voice is velvet on my ears. All the wisdom in the World is in here, it says, placing a front paw over a brown paper bag between us. You are not yet ready to recieve it.

    The horizon lights up in a flash, and thunder crashes all around us. Their voice is loud and beautiful enough to end the Earth, but Iím not afraid. Up ahead a dozen arcs of lightning are shining, lighting up the desert out of the darkness. They twist and turn, trees made of white light thatís never quite still. Without warning, they race by my sides; they are beautiful. Then they turn right and head into the desert. Follow them, the coyote beckns me. My hands glow with their light over the steering wheel, they got a mind of their own. We turn right and follow into their light. The pressure slowly grows from my foot to the pedal, going faster. Body sinking into my seat, chasing lightning. I canít stop; I donít want to. This is my forever.

    Up ahead the lightning stops moving and lights up a vast canyon. Already my foot rises and the car slows down to a stop at the edge. All over my skin is a field of goosebumps, the air is electric, caressing me. Come, it is time, the coyote speaks and jumps out from the open window. I follow. The canyon is deep, I canít see the bottom even with this much light. The arcs of lightning stretch all the way to the sky, their branches sway and spread, splitting and twisting. I can barely follow their dance. Then they stop, lie perfectly still. A snapshot in three-dee. It all goes dead quiet. A voice speaksÖinside of me. It tells me the secrets of the desert. It is bigger than me, than anything. I know why Iím here. Not just this now, but for my whole life. The answer, it finally leaves my tongue. A word vibrates in the air; from my lips to the wind. Yes, the coyote speaks, and brings the brown bag to me. Open it, the World is yours.

    It is a small bag. Dark brown, crinkly, a thousand folds, old personís skin. A shiver courses me, like electricity. Tingle. The lightning, the coyote, the desert, the night, they all hold their breath. This is my moment; Godís eyes are upon me. What You know, I will know too. I open the bagÖÖÖÖÖ

    And fall.

    And fall.

    And fall.

    Fall.

    Fall.

    FallÖ

    Ö

    Dozed off. How long? Iíve been here before? Took two shots of tequila. The car is waiting for me to turn on the ignition. Get this show on the road. The desertís a bright shade of jaundice. A place of dead, long forgotten things. Donít really know what was I doing before. The road ahead seems endless. What will I find at its end? The ignition key turns, a purr gently shakes my car. In the far distance, the faint sound of thunder reaches me. Thereís a brown paper bag next to me. Did I bring lunch for the road? Doesnít matter. I press down on the pedal, leaving who I was behind in the wind.
    Last edited by MrDuck; 27th Apr 2019 at 06:21.

  2. #2
    El Shagmeister
    Registered: Jul 2000
    Location: Under your fingernails.
    Tough crowd.


  3. #3
    Member
    Registered: Feb 2001
    Location: Somewhere
    Well, I read it, and honestly I cant tell you if its good or not. A little too "stream of conciousness" for my liking.

  4. #4
    Member
    Registered: Feb 2002
    Location: In the flesh.
    To be fair it isn't your typical story with a plot. It's more of a fever dream exposing aspects of the protagonists personality. It's hard to know what to say about that sort of gonzo style. There were individual sentences I liked very much like "The air tastes of rust, things forgotten, left to bake under a punishing sun -it’s so dry my lips crack and peel like a lizard" but it's very disjointed. I would have preferred the coyote to show up earlier. That had possibilities. If the coyote had been a sounding board to resolve an issue the protagonist had and that tied in with last sentence of leaving behind his old self then it would have worked better. If it had been about a relationship gone sour and the realization that no matter the feelings which linger one has to move on it would also tie into the rolling along the road.

    It wasn't at all a difficult or unenjoyable read and had it's highlights. I liked the envy over the simplicity of checking lists to keep things going smoothly and how that just never happens in a persons life. I would have left off the lightening which had confusing and distracting effects. I couldn't tie it to any meaningful metaphor except power and that didn't seem to fit. The chasm was an impassible but I couldn't see where to tie that to either, maybe to the view the protagonist has between himself and a meaningful other? The bag was a symbol of alcoholism maybe? Or maybe a warning of it? On the whole it was more symbolism than substance to tie it to. A long talk with that coyote might resolve that.

  5. #5
    El Shagmeister
    Registered: Jul 2000
    Location: Under your fingernails.
    Now that's what I'm talking about. <3

    Thank you, guys.

  6. #6
    Member
    Registered: Feb 2001
    Location: Somewhere
    No problem, I know it takes a bit of courage to post things like this in the first place. Having read other things of yours before, can I suggest you try writing something thats not 1st person?

  7. #7
    It's a bit rambly and rough around the edges but I found it atmospheric and kind of ensnaring. Lots of questions about what's going on, what's real, what's in the narrator's mind. Is the road even there or is it another figment of his tired mind?

    It doesn't really stand on its own but it could be the start of a character study of sorts.

  8. #8
    Member
    Registered: Jan 2001
    Location: the Sheeple Pen
    Hey, I read your thing! Not really my cup of tea, to be honest, but even though I thought that the story itself turned way too weird towards the end, I think you got the atmosphere just right there. Having said that, this could have worked as a part of some bigger story, but as a standalone thing it's just a little too odd for me. Thanks for posting it though!

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