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In Flash rule: must contain one line that is a palindrome
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Jan 10, 2013 01:47
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| # ¿ Apr 24, 2024 05:52 |
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HiddenGecko posted:
There is no need to teach me the abécédaire. I find it unjust to be reprimanded for carrying out the judges' appointed duty of getting out of my comfort zone. For this reason I throw down the glove and I challenge you to a Thunderbrawl. One round. Life or death.
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Jan 10, 2013 04:58
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iroelbrawl Anamnesis I don’t know if it ever happened to you, dreaming about people whose companionship is so charming you feel like you’ve known them all your life. And then waking up and realizing you haven’t the slightest idea of who they were. It often happened to me, especially when I was a child. Back then I clung to the memory of those people because I was sure there must have been some meaning behind them. Despite my efforts, I forgot them, one after another, with the same ease one forgets any dream. Except for one. Well, almost. You see, I just remember her hands, her voice and the place where I met her, a place where I had been before. So I went back there, to Nova Scotia. When I woke up at the Castle Rock Country Inn it was late in the morning and dark outside. The saturnine sky loomed over the brilliant fiery colors of the beech forest springing up as the backdrop to a plumbean lake. The whole house felt empty. Cars were parked outside and a boat moved slowly in the distance as if the lake were really made of lead, but you couldn’t hear a thing except the slow rustle of leaves. I went downstairs hoping to find breakfast -- I was starving, I never eat on planes -- only to find that the meal had already been served. The feeling was so different from when I visited with my parents: back then it was spring and even the air was as light and luminous as were the days, or my mother’s laughter. I remembered my father playing Satie on the piano after our morning walks and wondered how I could have forgotten that. I approached the woman behind the reception desk, who was aging by the hour. I asked her how long she’d been working in this place and whether there were any girls working here ten years ago. I watched her hands as she fiddled with a keychain and didn’t answer my questions. She asked me where I’m from and what my profession is and all those questions you really don’t want to answer because they seem to be all you ever talk about. Noticing my lack of interest, she asked me if I wanted something to drink, or maybe to tour the house and maybe see the other rooms, even the other guests’ empty rooms. I decided to kill the time until lunch by taking a walk in the woods just outside the inn. I was relieved to be surrounded by the tall and slim trees. When you are used to living in the city you forget how vast and lonely the horizon can be and how vertigo can catch up to you with your first glimpse of the reunion line between sky and earth. Trodding on a carpet of red leaves, I picked up rocks one after another and lifted each one at arm’s length, hoping it would shine, but no sunrays pierced through the canopy. I wanted them to shine as they had so many years ago while I was breaking them with a little pickaxe. Their golden sparkling reassured me of their value, which I was trying to grasp by breaking them into smaller and smaller pieces, so that I could leave the dull gray parts behind. One time my mother intercepted my hand to show me that there was no need to break the rock because on its surface it bore the imprint of a fossilized leaf. I looked back to re-examine some of the rocks I had just thrown away to see if they had any fossils, but I had no pickaxe with which to split them. I walked towards the pier from which you can view the whole panorama of the basin. The shoreline lifted itself well above the water in the distance. Its walls, steep and black, a repository of millions of years of geologic memory and a testament of the perennial action of the water, were mocking me. As my memory faded day after day, and I struggled to maintain the ever so distant memories of what I held dear, nature was posing in front of me, mocking me with its silence. Nature is in its glory indifferent to us men, and our passing ages, and yet the faithful and secret chronicler of our every event. Unable, then, to recall the reason for my trip, I thought that after this long walk, I might as well have lunch and then sex with that woman. Iroel fucked around with this message at 06:55 on Jan 12, 2013 |
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Jan 12, 2013 03:01
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I haven't gotten home all day (i'm still out after having been to work) so i did the edits on the phone. I'm not sure about the final word count. It should be around 750.
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Jan 12, 2013 04:29
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Fanky Malloons posted:762, you buttlord I know, I know. It's one of those slips like constantly misspelling my username 
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Jan 12, 2013 17:46
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I don't think that you hate the last line because it's a non-sequitur. Because the logic is pristine: Afraid to forget -> Understands that nature is silent and indifferent -> Forgets and pays the price for looking in the wrong place (the price is cynical matter-of-factness. I think you don't like the last line because the message of the story is "gently caress you nature, you are not beautiful and you suck, art is where it's at". And the last line is essential to drive home this point. Edit: ready for round two.
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Jan 12, 2013 19:32
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Fanky Malloons posted:Actually, the point is that you suck. But so does Hidden Gecko, per my above edit. I do agree. And I know you don't care, but the first paragraph and the last line where actually born together and then I worked in the middle. The reason I'm saying this is because I fail to understand why the point didn't get across (to understand which is one of the reasons I'm submitting my writings). Anyway I wanted to make a proposal: what if the contestants of a thunderbrawl had to analyze in depth the other challenger's writings after the fight is settled, in the same way we have to do with the pairings for the regular contest?
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Jan 12, 2013 19:40
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| # ¿ Apr 24, 2024 05:52 |
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HiddenGecko posted:Blah Blah Blah It's because I believe that my work will stand on it's own that I can allow my self to be annoying (I'm a stupid newbie afterall). But again it's not a defense, it's an attempt to understand why I'm misunderstood. And again, I'm being misunderstood. Iroel fucked around with this message at 20:29 on Jan 12, 2013 |
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Jan 12, 2013 20:25
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