Short stories consume you faster.

Month: September 2017

Food for Dolls

“Well, I didn’t want tea anyway.”

It sounded petulant to her ears, but there was no trying again. It didn’t matter how much she tried to predict her tone and her bearing; she wasn’t the one driving this thing.

“Alright,” he said, picking up the cup. His voice was steady and gentle. She didn’t know what audience he was acting for. They both knew what he was.

“I made breakfast,” he repeated inanely. She had heard him the first time, but of course that didn’t matter. There was a script, and she was abandoning it. That wouldn’t do.

“Thank you, dear. You do so much for me,” she lied.

The strings were pulled taut. She was being moved again. She bounced out of her seat. She jerked towards the sink.

“It’s the least I can do. I’ve been so lucky,” he said, voice as bitter as it had been on that day. But he was still smiling, and when he said, “Thank you for doing the dishes tonight,” his voice was as kind as his expression.

Apologies to Michael at Morpethroad, whose post inspired this one.

The Common Defense

“I didn’t sign up for this.”

“You signed up to keep the peace. That’s what we’re doing.”

“What we’re doing is betraying everything our country stands for.”

“Don’t we stand for tolerance?”

There’s a roar, further up the road. They can’t see her wings or tail yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“We stand for truth and justice too. It’s not tolerance to accept everything, even the stuff that’ll destroy you.”

“The death rate is minimal so far.”

“So far.”

“Maybe you’re right, maybe this is a mistake. You did sign up for this.”

“Maybe I’ll change that.”

Image by Izaak Standridge

Moral Criticism

Literary criticism has been around in the most general sense at least as long as literature, but the first example of formulated criticism that we have records of comes to us from the Greek philosophers, Plato and Aristotle.

In Plato’s Republic, book X, he constructs a dialogue about the user, the maker, and the artist.

“But does the painter know the right form of the bit and reins? Nay, hardly even the workers in brass and leather who make them; only the horseman who knows how to use them- he knows their right form.”

Plato’s mouthpiece goes further, generalizing this description of a specific industry, that of the creation of bit and reins for horses, to all forms of art and craft:

“…there are three arts which are concerned with all things: one which uses, another which makes, a third which imitates them?”

Only the user, the player, or the reader can determine the quality of a product. They know upon touching it, listening to it, or otherwise handling it, whether it is good or bad. The maker will take their feedback and incorporate it. An imitator, a third party who observes this and tries to replicate it, will have no such knowledge. According to Plato, all art is mere imitation.

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Aristotle disagreed with Plato on several fronts. They agreed that art is mimetic, imitating reality. However, where Plato treats art as a failure to honestly capture the truth, Aristotle believes that art contributes something unique, when used effectively. In his Poetics, Aristotle focuses on rhetorical devices like diction and meter, and their role in making art affect the audience.

Catharsis (κάθαρσις) was the most essential element of art (especially tragedy, the highest form of art) for Aristotle. The audience must purge their negative emotions- and their positive, finding a balance between pity, fear, and ecstasy. The audience recognizes that the events of a story are not true, and so they can distance themselves from the reality of various forms of horrific and tragic events. Art produces entertainment and education because it imitates, and the imitation is recognized as unreal.

Yet like Plato, Aristotle limits the kinds of stories that can be told. He believes tragedies must have a fixed form. He painstakingly describes the qualities of a tragic hero, the techniques that should be used to induce catharsis, and the rhetorical devices that good art contains. Moral Criticism’s focus on the role of art as education would last as long as Greek Civilization- and recur whenever a civilization admired the Greeks, like the Romans and the Victorians did.

Court Jester

“Pick a card,” it cried out. There was a petulant quality to the voice, like a child that had never grown up. So it went, day after day. The circus came to town, once, and never left.

The laughter, high-pitched and incessant, was worse. If he had ever had a sense of humor, it was gone now, worn down by years of this torture.

He kept peddling, kept performing. Even when it closed the lid on his box, submerging him in darkness. He didn’t want to make it angry again.

Monastic Preserves

“You could say I’m a connoisseur. Have you ever tried Trappist beer?”

“No, sir. I don’t drink.”

“Of course, of course. Where do you get your berries?”

“That’s not something we like to share, sir.”

“Of course, of course. I suppose I can’t have just one more jar?”

“They won’t cooperate, sir.”


“Couldn’t you convince them?”

“We are busy.”

“Of course, of course. I suppose I’ll be on my way then?”

“Was there something else you needed, sir?”

“You wouldn’t be interested in having a taste of it, would you? You’re welcome.”

“I’m a monk, sir.”

“Of course.”

Prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a busy character. It could be a busy beaver, gnawing birch trees endlessly or an executive on the go. Go where the prompt leads.

Ancient Architects

“What was it for?”

“It was a monument to the Christian god. They used it as a place of worship.”

“The entire thing?”

“There were variations over time. Some religions believed that places like this were important. Dedicating a building and idols to the gods was seen as the greatest gift, because it meant bringing them into your life. The gods exist beyond reality, so it’s important to invite them in.”

“Is that what the people who made this believed?”

“Not exactly. I’m not an expert on early Christian thought, you understand.”

“Got it. Why the art?”

“The art is an act of devotion. Some wrote poetry instead.”

“It seems too physical. I thought religions were about the abstract?”

“They were, but they were also about morality, social order, community, and understanding the world.”

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“Their understanding was wrong, and a lot of the morality was terrible. I’m not sure ‘social order’ sounds that great as a central tenet, either.”

“I’m not sure I can explain it to you. Things were different then.”

“You say it like you were there.”

“I saw the end of religion. I think I understand most of the history of human religion better than those who didn’t.”

“You weren’t religious, though.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You really talk like you admired the whole thing, but their priorities must have been skewed to preserve these buildings for so long. They could have tried to preserve the reefs instead.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“I know that look. You want to argue.”

“Sometimes I wish I’d seen the Great Barrier Reef before it died, yes. But there’s something to be said for standing inside something like this.”

“It’s nice, I guess. I’ve never seen a building with this much wood and glass.”

“It’s always going to be a bit out of place now. Out of time.”

 

The title is a riff on Ancient Aliens, a show I’ve never actually watched and don’t plan to.

Inspired by the Quote of the Day, from texaslawstudent.com

Photo by Jan Tielens on Unsplash

 

 

A Literate Populace

“They aren’t meant to read! They’re only good for cleaning up after us!”

“We extend these rights to all humans, regardless of their qualities as individuals. I may not respect them, but I recognize them for what they are.”

“Why does the reality of ‘what they are’ matter? They’re not better than animals, even if they are more like us than the rest.”

“I want to be on the right side of history.”

“I see. Vanity over progress.”

“Progress requires improving upon the past .”

“Progress needs something to build on.”

“Excuse me,” interrupted the speller.

“Shush,” they said simultaneously.

Prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a speller.

Lengthy Dissertation

As I reached the top of the hill, I examined the sides of the formation first. They looked like natural rock, and felt like it, too. The locals blamed every fairy and ghost for the sight that they could imagine, their superstitions leading them astray. Most likely, the structure was the result of a long-dead river, water that once had flown through here and since been redirected. They had showered me with gifts when I told them my destination. While they were content to hide down below, I, the intrepid adventurer, braved the mountains.

It was a nice reputation to build up, so I didn’t stop the rumors. I knelt in the sand for a closer look at the sculpted rock. It was too perfect to be natural. Looking through it gave me a sense of vertigo, like I was peering into another world. I noted my thoughts and observations in my journal as I looked through. I wrote, until my eyes began to feel tired and my hand cramped. I was able to tear my eyes away from the hole at long last, placing down my pen.

My throat tickled with thirst. Surprised, I reached for my water bottle. Gone. I looked to my journal. It was still recognizable as paper, but it was well-worn with time. As I picked up the pen, scribbling on the moldy, fragile paper. As it tore, the pen left no mark.

I called out, but there was no one to hear me on the mountain. Clutching the notebook, the pen, and the last shreds of my sanity, I began the long trek back.

Prompt: Weekly Writing Prompt #104: | FAIRY | SAND | HIDE | JOURNAL | RIVER |

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