A couple of years ago I posted a short-short story called Red Ball, which became rather popular and got comments like “breathtaking” and “This is great. Really creepy!” and “YES! Creepy… for sure.” and “Creepy is the word! Especially the 4th corner.” You can read the original story here.
Now I have gone and made a short video of it. I narrate it. You can see it by clicking on this sentence.
That’s it. Thanks for coming by. V+
Posts Tagged ‘fantasy’
I wrote and posted a short-short story (read HERE–click it!) about a toe detaching itself from my foot to go live its life. It proved popular. So I recorded it.
Listen (and/or download) here: Big Toe Walkabout read by the author.
It’s less than 3 1/2 minutes.
Enjoy and thanks for dropping by. Don’t forget to leave a comment below! Vincent….
My big toe detached itself from my foot and took a walk. My foot said, Ah shit, not again. I said, You let him go. My foot said, I didn’t let him anything. He does this when I’m not looking. I never see it coming. He just ups and—what’s he doing?
I looked at my big toe waddle over to the nearest corner and stand, like a little bald egg with hands if he had hands tucked behind his back rocking slightly to and fro and staring intently at the corner as if he was in a museum and he had finally come upon a painting worth his attention.
He’s looking in the corner, I told my foot and my foot said, What’s he doing that for? What’s in the corner that’s so special? I said, Nothing special that I can see. It’s just a corner.
My foot shook itself slowly back and forth. Toes. I’ll never understand them. And with that my other big toe detached itself.
Oh no! my other foot moaned. Oh please, I said.
This big toe headed over to my trash container and stood before it. I watched my toe watching itself in the metal reflection of my trash container and my feet tried to tuck themselves up under me to keep the other toes in place but I wasn’t having any of it.
Feet, I lectured. Feet. Two things I ask, one large thing, one small thing. I ask you to get me from one place to another. Also, I give you the small duty to keep my toes attached to the front of you. And you fail.
Hey, we tried—
I don’t want to hear it, I told my feet, who shut-up. Now I have to get up and go over there in the corner and then over near the trash thing, and retrieve them.
No! said my foot. No! said the other foot. We don’t have any experience walking around without the two big toes and cannot guarantee your safety. We would instead highly recommend that you remain seated until both the big toes return of their own accord.
What if they don’t return?
My feet thought about that. You could crawl?
For my toes? For my toes! I have my self-respect. So I sat there, waiting for my big toes to return but I waited so long that I got drowsy and fell asleep and when I woke up the light from outside was beginning to dim its end of the day light giving the room a soft blue look I always liked and I stood up without thinking and didn’t fall over. I looked down to make sure everything was back in its place before taking my first step.
I said, Hello, again, Big Toes, and welcome back, and then I went for a short walk.
Once more the little girl pushed the red ball into the empty middle of the big room. She steadied it, let go, stepped back and watched. It swayed a moment as though getting some balance, then slowly moved on its own, returning in a slow roll back to the corner where it always seemed to want to be.
The girl watched it roll to the corner. Once there it stayed there. She went over and poked it with her index finger but it did not move. She did it once again and once more and once again the same thing happened. Every time. Ball in middle of the room. Ball roll to the empty corner on its own. Stop, stay, there.
In another corner was all the furniture of the room. All the lamps and rugs, the sofa and tables and stuff had gone to that corner all on its own and the girl didn’t know how it happened. One day everything of the living room was in its place. The next it was in the corner.
In another corner was her mother and her father and her little baby brother. They had stayed in the same position in the same way for two days now like rag-dolls one flopped on the other. The girl went to her father, and grabbed the cuff of his jacket, pulled it and pointed to the ball in the opposite corner. “Dad, the ball. It’s doing funny things.” Dad did not respond.
The girl walked once again and once more over to the ball all the way over on the opposite corner and picked it up and carried and put it smack dab in the middle of the room and sat between the ball and its favorite corner. The red ball swayed again again again and rolled at her and at the last moment it served around smoothly without hesitation and went to its corner. The girl quietly followed it with her eyes.
“Weird ball,” she told it.
The girl looked at the last of the four corners where an unmoving figure seemed to be sitting on a stool with a long blanket over him her it. If she watched there were movements sometimes. Like a hand reaching up to scratch an itch on its nose, but also like a rat running around restlessly behind. The girl stayed away from that corner.
She went to the ball again. She picked it up, brought it to the middle of the room, put it down, then draped herself over it, holding it down, holding it still, with all her body weight, which was a bit less than it had been two days ago because she hadn’t eaten much in two days. She looked to one corner. “Watch, daddy! Watch, mommy!”
She tried to lay more heavily on the ball, using all her small power, flopped atop it like a rag-doll herself. She waited for the red ball to move.