1
Unseen, he slides through cracks, unbound, liquid fear of mothers.
2
The camera arcs a left-right panorama but could not see below or above. Jones, the station operator, tells his visitors, here I see the world, not mentioning what's missing.
3
She stands on the building's roof, God's view of an empty city. Flags rustle in wind. No cars. No people. Clouds scatter overhead, lost kites eastward to barren places. She awoke and someone had taken an eraser to the world. Except her. Why? She screams, echoless, chases the descending sun.
4
Unseen, L and N sneak into a dark alleyway, kiss. Both were married to others; infidelity, here, was criminal. There are cameras everywhere, she said, her back pressing brick wall, fingers feverish unbuttoning his shirt. Yes, that war was lost long ago, he said, his hands sliding up her legs, reaching bare hips. Here they have free space, unbound from pious spouses, as whirring cameras search for those who dare.
5
He draws shades so no one will see. He disconnects the phone, turns off the computer, destroys each television with bullets. All pictures frames go face down. The outside world, still present as he can hear airplanes flying overhead, thumping bass of passing cars. He inserts earplugs. Sun goes down and he refuses to turn on lights. At night he cries as he recalls the time his father made him sit in a dark closet as punishment. Now, unseen, he deletes future years, longs for the comfort of broken childhood.
7
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Week #21 of 52/250 Challenge
"Unseen"
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great buildup here. a pyramid of pyrotechnical writing. love it. well observed, this unseeing.
Good use of the challenge. Great ending.
Yeppity yep yep
the next number in that series is 112.
What do I win?
Thanks, Marcus!
Thanks, Matthew!
Matt, you've won a package of "We Are Not Joaquin Phoenix" Silly Bandz! Please send $47.99 to cover shipping, handling, and processing, and please allow 95 weeks for delivery.
5 knocked me out - holy moley.
There's not a weak spot in all of this, Christian. This was absolutely wonderful. WONDERFUL! I don't know what else to say. Pure power, hoss. Christ almighty.
Great form to this, Christian. Agree with Lou about 5. Yes.
This:
lost kites eastward to barren places
is lovely.
I like this piece as a whole, but that image had me daydreaming for a while.
Thanks, Lou, Sheldon, Sam, and Stephen!
Bet you can't guess which stanza I like best. Ha ha. Beauty, power, magic: quite a package. A+
Thanks, Jack, for your comments.
I don't know quite why, but I'm reminded of something Pynchon wrote about ignorance - that it has mass and a shape - perhaps it's the way your unseeing builds into something dense and oppressive (threatening like a black hole)that only "broken childhood" could relieve.
This is beautifully written. "longs for the comfort of broken childhood" is stunning; really sums it up, but is so surprising that I didn't see it coming.