Blurred Line

Midterm season has hit, though it's pretty much wrapped up by now, hence my absence here. Also, I'm a lazy bastard. Fortunately, reading week is coming up, so I should be able to get some lazy out of my system.

Additionally, the Moon Topples "Vision" contest has just finished up. No wins for Cavan, but I was just excited to actually have written something (my output's been pretty much non-existent lately). Anyhow, I just wanted to make a few remarks on this piece (here's the direct link). A lot of the flash fiction I've seen (especially on the web) is of the "fake left, go right" variety. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but I also don't think it's a coincidence that the best flash pieces are also most often the ones with the most subtle turns. When writing for this contest, I challenged myself to write something with absolutely no twist at all. I wanted to see if I could actually create some meaningful interaction between characters in a flash piece that left the reader contemplating things. I'm not sure I was entirely successful, but I took a shot. Anyway, here it is:

"Vision!" cries the blind man.

He's walking towards me (not the defeated shuffle you'd expect from an old man with plastic bags around his feet and a cardboard sign draped over his tattered jacket, but something proud, upright). I look down at my own feet (last year's fad, scarred with salt stains) and hope he'll walk right on by. There's another man beside me, waiting for the bus. Fortyish. Suit. Immaculate hair that looks like it's been welded to his scalp.

The blind man slows as he reaches the station. Can he sense us here? Does he smell the presence of other people? He's mumbling under his breath, but when he finally stops in front of the businessman, his words become coherent. The cardboard sign he wears has the word 'vision' scrawled on it.

"Vision!" he cries again. "What do you see?"

"I see myself not giving you any change."

"Yes, but what do you see?"

The businessman sighs. "Sorry."

The blind man remains where he is. His gaze is fixed directly onto the face of the businessman. It's uncanny, and more than a little unnerving. I'm trying to make myself as small as possible, folding myself into the crevices of the bus station.

"Look, buddy, I don't have any change. Why don't you just move it along now?"

I see a bus coming and strain my eyes to see which number it is. I'm feeling around in my pocket, making sure my pass is at the ready. The bus approaches, stops. It's not mine. The businessman boards and I think about trailing after him. The bus leaves and it's just me and the blind man. The silence, the anticipation of what he'll say is spooking me.

I'm expecting standard sandwich-board material. You know, "The End is Nigh" and all that. Hellfire. Brimstone. Those are the kinds of visions these guys have, aren't they?

"What do you see?"

And he's looking at me. Straight on. Filmy white eyes looking directly into mine. I'm shuddering inside, looking at his eyes, at his clothes, at his feet. Knowing I shouldn't, but doing it anyway.

"Uhh...a bus stop?"

"Yes. What else?"

"I don't know. A road. Buildings. The sky."

"Yes. And what do they look like?"

I shrug, glance around the corner, hoping that my bus will be here soon. "You know, like they're supposed to. A road's flat and long and black and goes off into the distance. Buildings are tall boxy things. The sky's blue. A few clouds."

He never takes his eyes off mine while I'm talking. He stares intently. He takes a deep breath.

"Yes," he says. The word rides on his exhalation, one syllable stretched out interminably. Dissolving meaning.

I can see parts of myself reflected in his eyes. My face glinting off the corner of his eye.

My bus pulls up. His eyes firm on mine.


Profile Editor. Writer. 9-5er. Lord of the Dance. Blurredline.com Apodis Publishing Fusion Fragment cterrill(at)blurredline.com Buy Goodbye, Darwin Amazon.com Amazon.ca Chapters.ca Barnes&Noble.com Read it free in PDF Format Buy Blurred Line Amazon.com Amazon.ca Chapters.ca Barnes&Noble.com Read it free in PDF Format The Short Stuff "Learning Magic From Mint" - published May 2007 in Atomjack "Between Eternities" - published October 2005 at Speculative.ca "Smoke and Mirrors" - published June 2005 in Byzarium Submissions Log Total Subs: 25 Acceptances: 3 Rejections: 17 Withdrawals: 3 Subs Out: 2 Quality Blogs Scalzi's Whatever Dave's Blogography Bookslut The Struggling Writer SF Signal the0phrastus Paperback Writer Scribe's Writing Desk Nathan Bransford Lyons Literary LLC The World in the Satin Bag Book In The Oven The Word Perhaps We Learned Something... Words, etc. Archives March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 Et Cetera Cavan @ Last.fm Cavan @ LibraryThing Feeds Atom Feed RSS Feed	Thursday, February 15, 2007 - Moon Topples Entry Midterm season has hit, though it's pretty much wrapped up by now, hence my absence here. Also, I'm a lazy bastard. Fortunately, reading week is coming up, so I should be able to get some lazy out of my system. Additionally, the Moon Topples "Vision" contest has just finished up. No wins for Cavan, but I was just excited to actually have written something (my output's been pretty much non-existent lately). Anyhow, I just wanted to make a few remarks on this piece (here's the direct link). A lot of the flash fiction I've seen (especially on the web) is of the "fake left, go right" variety. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but I also don't think it's a coincidence that the best flash pieces are also most often the ones with the most subtle turns. When writing for this contest, I challenged myself to write something with absolutely no twist at all. I wanted to see if I could actually create some meaningful interaction between characters in a flash piece that left the reader contemplating things. I'm not sure I was entirely successful, but I took a shot. Anyway, here it is: "Vision!" cries the blind man. He's walking towards me (not the defeated shuffle you'd expect from an old man with plastic bags around his feet and a cardboard sign draped over his tattered jacket, but something proud, upright). I look down at my own feet (last year's fad, scarred with salt stains) and hope he'll walk right on by. There's another man beside me, waiting for the bus. Fortyish. Suit. Immaculate hair that looks like it's been welded to his scalp. The blind man slows as he reaches the station. Can he sense us here? Does he smell the presence of other people? He's mumbling under his breath, but when he finally stops in front of the businessman, his words become coherent. The cardboard sign he wears has the word 'vision' scrawled on it. "Vision!" he cries again. "What do you see?" "I see myself not giving you any change." "Yes, but what do you see?" The businessman sighs. "Sorry." The blind man remains where he is. His gaze is fixed directly onto the face of the businessman. It's uncanny, and more than a little unnerving. I'm trying to make myself as small as possible, folding myself into the crevices of the bus station. "Look, buddy, I don't have any change. Why don't you just move it along now?" I see a bus coming and strain my eyes to see which number it is. I'm feeling around in my pocket, making sure my pass is at the ready. The bus approaches, stops. It's not mine. The businessman boards and I think about trailing after him. The bus leaves and it's just me and the blind man. The silence, the anticipation of what he'll say is spooking me. I'm expecting standard sandwich-board material. You know, "The End is Nigh" and all that. Hellfire. Brimstone. Those are the kinds of visions these guys have, aren't they? "What do you see?" And he's looking at me. Straight on. Filmy white eyes looking directly into mine. I'm shuddering inside, looking at his eyes, at his clothes, at his feet. Knowing I shouldn't, but doing it anyway. "Uhh...a bus stop?" "Yes. What else?" "I don't know. A road. Buildings. The sky." "Yes. And what do they look like?" I shrug, glance around the corner, hoping that my bus will be here soon. "You know, like they're supposed to. A road's flat and long and black and goes off into the distance. Buildings are tall boxy things. The sky's blue. A few clouds." He never takes his eyes off mine while I'm talking. He stares intently. He takes a deep breath. "Yes," he says. The word rides on his exhalation, one syllable stretched out interminably. Dissolving meaning. I can see parts of myself reflected in his eyes. My face glinting off the corner of his eye. My bus pulls up. His eyes firm on mine. Cavan blogged at 8:40 PM \| 4 comments	Progress Zilch! 0/0 Listening A.J. Croce - "Maybe I'm Amazed" My Music Reading Bright Lights, Big City - Jay McInerney My Library Watching Black Book: B Sweet and Lowdown: C Breakfast on Pluto: B Wishlist Bridge of Sighs - Richard Russo Rachael Yamagata - Elephants...Teeth Sinking Into Heart