• ✍️ WORDS ✍️

    Welcome Guest!

  • Words Moderators: cduggles | Mysterier
  • Bluelight HOT THREADS
  • Let's Welcome Our NEW MEMBERS!

Story Surrealist Fiction working title: "A Surreal Stroll"

keseyhitchens

Bluelighter
Joined
Mar 11, 2021
Messages
100
Location
San Francisco Bay Area
Please read and critique my work. Any comments welcome, both negative and positive! I can handle it.


If you have a problem with the link please let me know and I'll email it to you in a doc file
 

Mysterier

Moderator: Words
Staff member
Joined
Dec 25, 2003
Messages
18,652
Location
Portmeirion
I'm interested in reading it, but I'm loath to click on an external link as a rule. I wonder if there are formatting options favorable for long-form content here. How long is it?
 

keseyhitchens

Bluelighter
Joined
Mar 11, 2021
Messages
100
Location
San Francisco Bay Area
I'm interested in reading it, but I'm loath to click on an external link as a rule. I wonder if there are formatting options favorable for long-form content here. How long is it?
Is Seeing Believing

As the sunlight tickles his face He walks along the sidewalk. He looks like your father. So he walks, his white converse pitter-pattering on the cement and the wind blowing through his ears. As He walks he sees many things. He sees a road to Stockton, spilled electric kool-aid, a small man drinking a Big Gulp, a sad girl longing for a happy one, soggy McDonald’s fries, a spider web on a woman’s head, and a tree with bark made of peppermint and leaves filled with liquid gold.

He sees shards of crystal glittering about, gasoline held up with wooden beams, and an Oreo cookie making love to a glass of milk.

He sees a melting clock and Superman socks, mutually assured reconstruction, jungle love with an aggressive mug that snarls and drips with hate. A chow mein girl that has lost her way but is finding the means to get it back. Then suddenly it turns to night right before his very eyes, but he keeps walking, his converse still pitter-patter on the cement and the wind still blowing through his ears and he continues to see many things.

He sees a bus to Nowhere (the town not the place), a time traveling Lincoln penny from 1968, another dead bird in the street (oh wait no, that’s a pinecone), a bushel of trash, and a lion trying to tackle its prey and it misses (oh well, better luck next time).

He sees five bugs frozen dead like a still life photograph in Pompeii, crushed cancer sticks, nighttime butterflies, and a tube top magic carpet waiting to give him a ride, and then He makes it home. He glances at the house and starts to walk towards the front door. He knows when he goes inside the only thing he will see is pain and misery. He will see a father that beats him and a mother that doesn’t care. He will see a brother who molests him. He will see no food on the table, too much vodka in the fridge and meth in the pipe. He will see despair, fear, and a knot in his stomach that will not go away. He makes it to the front door, opens it, and goes inside. Maybe he’ll go blind…

END​
 

Mysterier

Moderator: Words
Staff member
Joined
Dec 25, 2003
Messages
18,652
Location
Portmeirion
This elicits some really fascinating imagery, drenched in psychedelia, perhaps. I applaud the contrasting descriptions bristling from the subject's imagination in a coruscating display.

The despairing end is palpable.

Keep writing; I hope to see more. If not expounded on here, then in other works.
 

keseyhitchens

Bluelighter
Joined
Mar 11, 2021
Messages
100
Location
San Francisco Bay Area
This elicits some really fascinating imagery, drenched in psychedelia, perhaps. I applaud the contrasting descriptions bristling from the subject's imagination in a coruscating display.

The despairing end is palpable.

Keep writing; I hope to see more. If not expounded on here, then in other works.
Thank you for the comments! :) One thing I like about this piece is that the main character could be on a psychedelic trip, or dreaming, or schizophrenic, or just have a rich imagination. I don't have the answer for what's going on, it's all in how the reader sees it. I have some more stories that are less surreal and if you interested I will post them. I write, typical, about experiences in normal life . Realism I guess you could call the genre, i'm not sure.
 
Top