Search

The Unknown


Photo by Fred Rivett on Unsplash

Hello, and welcome back! It's been a while, you know, a full week.

Today's prompt was another good combination, I think. I was quite interested in writing it, as soon as I found out what it was.

Although I have to admit, the original idea has changed quite a bit, but more o that at the end.

Now, as a reminder, here are the requirements for this week:

o Write a rhopalic piece;

o Write about a magical incursion in a particular, real, context;

o 500 word limit.

Step.

Each step.

It followed me.

Along the long aisles.

In between the blurry shapes.

No one seemed to notice them.

The glow he wore on his back.

The faint smell of death coming to me.

No turned heads, no one stopping to look back.

And here I was, in front of him frozen, aghast.

It was me, that looked around, and tried hard to understand.

“You look at me now, as if you know not who I am.”

It talked, I thought and looked again, this time careful and somewhat surprised.

The scene, I saw in front of me, would hunt me down for life.

I stepped away from the figure, and slowly returned to minding my list of chores.

Peppers, milk and bread, and I have to remind myself that there is no toilet paper.

I could feel it following me, like a snail, leaving a trail of slime, glowy and sticky.

My eyes would ignore the slow movements he made, and my ears will only hear the faint sound.

“Come back. Come back,” he would sometimes cry at my back, and beg for me to turn, and stop.

The sound of his voice would put my mind in a daze, and each step would hurt for a second.

“Come back to me. Come back. Come back,” he’d cry, beg and yell, and no one would turn around to help.

“What,” I asked, looking in his eyes, made of blue, and coral, with stars glowing into the night, “What do you want?”

He looked at me, slow and surprised as if he never expected I speak to him, he never knew I would look back.

There’s that one book, I remember what I wanted to buy, stepping away from the silent figure, to disappear yet again from his sight.

A few minutes of peace and quiet followed, for the figure was too slow and too slimy to follow me so fast around the store.

As I was passing the multitude of humans, not a single one tried to stop the figure, or even ask me if I was all right.

So, I assumed everyone had one of his own, and if they did have a following figure, I wondered, was it as big, and slimy as mine?

I turn back, the figure stops with a flinch, and looks me straight into the eyes, before it slowly melts away or dissipates into the boxes of cereal.

Lucky one that will buy that, I think, before getting one of my own, knowing full well I am not a fan of cereal, not even milk, especially cold.

Whatever it was, now it was gone, and my mind forgot all about its lumps of glitter and its eyes of glass, sparkly glass which lit into the dark night.

I guess I think as I walk away, I guess we were meant to forget, never to understand, or ask, for if we understand who knows where our hearts would lie?


Final Word Count: 497

First of all, I hope I counted right. If I haven't, well that's life.

Second of all, I found out this week that a rhopalic piece doesn't necessarily have a certain structure, weird as it sounds. I found a definition that said it needs to have one letter more than the previous word. Another definition said that it add syllables. And so on, and so forth, till I decided to give up and add one word.

That brings me to the count limit. It is not exactly 500, but it's close, and I really didn't want to add thirty-two more words, for a three-word difference, hope you understand.

The original idea was someone who was walking around, talking to ghosts. It suddenly changed it... that figure. No, I do not necessarily know what the figure is, feel free to guess.

The requirements for next week, in case you were expecting them, are as follows:

Tuesday: 19.05.2020



o Do not use a word more than once;

o Write an Oulipo experiment (well-known text – N+7 technique)

o Word limit 600


Hope you enjoyed this one, and see you all next week!




©2020 by Writer's String. Proudly created with Wix.com