The Slip

Reads: 337  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
to be continued

Submitted: October 20, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 20, 2008

A A A

A A A


The Slip.

There was a place, he thought, somewhere between the slip... he had tried many times to describe what it was.. the slip, but, so hard to grasp such illusive concepts, and defenition had elluded him........ but in given times, when and where his mind wandered, the describing became almost tangible... like a vague sense of recognisable hope that was just, just, just.... j..u..s..t coming into moment of clarity. And as words so poignant would race around his head, everything assumed some import of and to MEANING... but then, almost in a haze he did not quite recognise, it would slip away from him... and that was the SLIP.... the slide, the fall... the vacant space into which everyone, not just his, but everyones dreams would vanish...... unspoken.... unrealised..... unrecognised...... The sound of a dog barking, repetative in the distance... an unfamilar bird song.... a cloud, which baring all coincidence forms itself into a face, or a dragon..... what import ? he thought , these things may have, and yet have none..... but still, the slip. And if it did not beggar discription or some discribing, he would not bother with it, not in the least, after all it was the preverbial needle in the pain in the arse ....................................................

to be continued

So things would move all about him, as if he were still, while the rest of the world became mobile, even frenetic in its attempts to catch his attention. Outside became a strange place. Inside became to warm and familiar to withstand. Separated by the slip, he felt as if he meandered through some alternate aspect, some other. Yet, he considered, its poetry was fluid, it had a liquidity of forms which moved from one to the other, a kaleidoscopic edge created by round mirrors, they spiralled and swam almost dancing, connecting……… connecting to what? He knew what, he could almost taste what it was, as if the seed of a billion flowers had been laid on his tongue, just a word, a single word would describe it all, noun, verb, vowel, pronoun, there like a loose molecule it beckoned with things so profound……………….

To be continued

This thing, this moment had pestered him all his life, gnawing and nagging at everything he did and existing in all the things he didn’t do. Sometimes he would wake up from troubled dreams to feel it hanging over him, a Damoclesean sword full of consequence and trouble. He hated the slip; he hated it for never being spoken, for not having a clue. He hated it for being perpetual, for being a shadow, for being a door to which he could not find the key to unlock. Yet there it was a half unguessable chord of chaos that invaded his life with its fucking surety and tangible knowledge. And so he considered the insides of trees and the cold sides of stones, he considered the stars and ideas that would stretch his imagination into palpable realms of magnitude. From the interlinking patterns and puzzles of atoms he would expand until he felt or sensed the quintessence of life moving in an ocean………… and yet…. Still…….. The slip… the slip, would not give itself up to grasp, would not give up its sacred and magical word………… and so he lingered, living in a half world of unseen augury, habitualised by the need for an explanation.

To be continued


© Copyright 2019 col13x. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Literary Fiction Short Stories