What do people use to express themselves with, what do they extract from themselves in order to write? There are trout hanging in the corner of the room; they are still as wallpaper. They lay in the thin and thick shadows waiting for whatever it is fish wait for. What do we express ourselves with? A man has teeth shaped like fountain pens. He wishes to bite the world on the face in hopes of explaining himself once and for all. The end was near, she knew it. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, she tore through them as if they were made of paper. All the different sights and sounds would not come together for her and make sense.1
Time was coming and going; it was difficult to see but time was what life wrote with. There is this constant movement of everything, yet we seem to sit in place like a thumb tack in the wall. Is it our blood, bile or shit that we write with? A window has been left open. What was on the outside was now on the inside. What was on the inside went out the window. The people were very confused,not knowing if they were in or out, with only the thin skin of the building giving any point of reference.2
Is there something inside ourselves to write with, some unknown substance? Let's say there is. Let's say: 'It has a red and black tint, and flows smooth as your breath.' Could be. We will call this the unknown substance and leave it at that. Is it we are the paper and something outside ourselves is writing on us? This could be true too. 3
She drove the car to the end of the road and waited. In the great opening where the earth would normally have been there was the blank stare of a valley. The woman waited so beautifully, she was calm, patient, accepting anything that was to happen. Her wrist were cut. Straw was found at the doorstep, fanned out in some deliberate pattern. The older men snorted, laughed, saying, "I know they're going to blame an animal for this." The dying woman was watching herself flow out, and waited to see what was next. Then suddenly she saw the unknown substance, the one with the red and black tint and flows smooth as breath. She plucked a feather from her head, dipped it into this substance, and wrote out exactly why she did what she did. She experienced a joy life had never given her before as now had the right material to express what she felt. She was explaining what this world was to her. Dying didn't seem so necessary now that she could get it all out about the pain, exactly how it felt to live with it. 4
The last breath slid out the woman's nose. Yet she had left a message behind so that the world could see and understand her life. And this is what the police found, this was her last words to the world. A dead woman in a car smiling, with cut wrist. We look for a sense and unity to it all, but as if we weren't the center, it is difficult to see.5
Author notes
What do you think? I'm too close to really see it, I only know what I intended.
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
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Hi: If I need to tell then evidently I didn't show well enough. The void in a valley always gives me a sense of emptiness, death. (There is a valley down the road from me where the road ends. )Perhaps much too personal a reaction to successfully use in a writing. As for the writing, it was intended to splay out in all directions and tie into the last line. It is too fresh off the production line for me to see this objectively, so any feedback is greatly appreciated.
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Honestly, it's a little abstract to me. But then it's late and sometimes my concentration is off.
"In the great opening where the earth would normally have been there was the blank stare of a valley." The abstraction comes with lines like this one. I am not sure what you are seeing.
Suicide is a subject I know too well myself. I think I need to read this again with a clearer mind.
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Damn..you do have a way of expressing yourself in a different style of writing and I'm enjoying. Just wish I could let it flow like you do. Once again well done !!
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Not sure about 'angry' but was hoping to display some passion for the subject. thanks for the comments
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the voice behind it seems angry, not sad. Like an old detective trying to paint the scene on a mystery that cant be solved. What the woman saw, knew or felt that would make her do this, and the fact that you didnt disclose what she was thinking works wonderfully..
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Thanks for the comments: and yeah I agree there is only here and it's going on now. Just wrote this today so difficult/impossible for me to be objective, or even know if it works. thanks again.
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Little Picture ... Big Picture ... is it one and the same.. ?
Sure seems at odds sometimes. Great writing.. the energy flows in odd and interesting ways, trout and onward.
Good stuff.
B
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