Flash Fiction: Revision

[wyld_dandelyon]

Well, it's still Friday (somewhere), so it's time for #fridayflash. And for the first installment in what I'm considering yuki_onna 's meme.

So, for today, something a little different:

REVISION

You notice the sound first. It’s not loud. You can hear every click, every squeak of the couch cushions. But it’s there, like the black ink keeping things distinct and separate in a line drawing.

You turn to your friends, open your mouth, speak. But the sound is there, keeping your words trapped inside the lines. Your friends sit there, static.

Louise nods, earphones on. She’s playing Toyboat, you can hear every word, every nuance, though the sound is all neatly trapped in the lines, running from the gadget in her hands through the wires to her ears, surrounding her mood and her thoughts neatly.

Andy and Pixie are playing a video game, and you can hear that music too, fully orchestrated and modulated to sound good under the sounds of the sci-fi zap guns and obligatory explosions. The sound-lines connect them, divide them, define them.

You pull another game out of your pocket, try to link in, but the lines won’t connect.

You start to yell, to scream, to hop up and down, and the sound traps your words in a bubble, above your head. Louise nods and taps her feet, her eyes fixed on the distance. Andy and Pixie stare at the screens between their nimble fingers.

Desperately, you grab a scissors, cut at the lines holding you in. The color drains out of you, the reds and blues and tans and golds, leaving you just a broken outline.

The sound changes, and a pink shape appears, wiping your lines away. You hover over the whiteness, formless, colorless, voiceless. No bright tunnel appears, and no angels. Just a stick, and then new lines.

First, a mouse, sticking its tongue out. And then you have a new form, four limbs and a tail, and whiskers. There’s a torrent of lines, defining a bright red cord, tangled tightly around you, Louise’s legs, and Andy and Pixie’s hands. One game is flying in mid-air and now everyone glares at you.

The sound turns to a chuckle. A mousehole appears in an empty corner of the page, and more mice appear, hiding in and near it, sniggering.

Finally, silence, and your friends can hear your voice. But now, all you can say is, “Mrrrrrrow!”
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Comments

[tigertoy.livejournal.com]

That's creepy. Also, a bit hard to understand why the mice would react with mirth to creating a cat, that's really surreal.

[wyld-dandelyon.livejournal.com]

The mice are reacting to the predicament the cat's in, not its creation.

This story is a metaphorical post about the creative process, you know.

[tigertoy.livejournal.com]

Maybe there's a part of my muse that identifies with the metaphor, and that's why I find it hard to change anything once I've written it. Even if I don't think it's the best it could have been, it's already been made real.

[ankewehner.livejournal.com]

Fun stuff. I can't say I got every detail decoded, but the speech ballons and pink eraser I think very clearly make it a story written from the point of view of a sketched figure. Or possibly the idea behind it, taking the transformation/rebirth as a different character into account.

[wyld-dandelyon.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I'm glad you had fun

This was an experiment; I'm not sure whether it was altogether successful. But you only grow by trying different things. I appreciate your comments!

[(Anonymous)]

As an experiment, I'm not entirely sure this worked. I liked the idea of the lines being cut, the color running out, etc. but then I got confused after that and couldn't really follow what was happening. I do like the idea of taking things literally though. Cool thought process. :)

~ganymeder

[wyld-dandelyon.livejournal.com]

I appreciate the comments! It's even more helpful to get comments on experimental stuff than the usual; it's hard for me to tell where the readers' minds go unless they're my mind!