City of IF

[D-Lotus]

I present to you my only attempt at writing over the summer. It's not really a short story- it's a sketch; a characterization; an extended metaphor, almost. Anyway, it's brief, so you might as well take a look at it and tell me what you think.

The Obelisk

While walking my own dog through the park one chilly, miserably clouded evening, I chanced upon the woman and her canine. She was in her early sixties, her stout, thick leotard enveloped legs supporting the rest of her diminutive, hunched body; her hair, short and dyed blonde, and her face, carefully smeared with cosmetics, was prepared in the manner of so many others of her age, Spanish women who in their youth had bourn the limitations and repression of General Franco’s times and then had emerged awkwardly into a world of sexual liberation. Her generation is a vanishing one- a generation of careful, modest apparel and quaint affability, so vastly different from the developing generation of designer clothes, of rowdy, urgent drinking, and of ingrained bluntness.

Something tawdry lingered about her person, for the make up wouldn’t hide her wrinkles and her air of disoriented wonder somehow created the effect of provinciality. Her bitch’s leash was wrapped several times around her hand, which rested by her hips. The doggess was an old Scott bulldog, a lazy, heavy dog with deep, mournful eyes, perpetually but composedly frowning below her jutting nuzzle. The old maid would stare glumly at the animal, which sat on the grass as immovable as a white obelisk, and smile hopefully when somebody passed by.

“Morning!” she waved to me cheerfully, undetectably affected, “What a small dog you have!” Her cordial remark struck me as unconsciously prideful, as if my picayune companion provided a foil for the grandeur of her leonine doggess.

“Yes,” I replied, halting out of propriety, “But your dog is very large.” I stopped, not knowing what else to say. Meanwhile, my Scott Terrier was struggling against his leash, leaning forward like mad and pulling with all his puny strength in order to get a whiff of his old Scottish country, but the large female, unmindful of his presence, merely sat with drooping eyes staring into something undetectable beyond the trees, as if she were anticipating a nearby future.

“Look, I think they like each other.” said the woman, ignoring the fact that her dog was completely oblivious of my small Terrier. Despite my tendency to over-analyze, I felt sure that this woman was disconnected from reality, deluding herself in order to see what her mind wished to see. Her distraction from reality linked her, in my fancy, to the animal, who abided imperturbable and unnoticing of anything ephemeral; furthermore, there existed something suggestive about the way the old woman grasped the leash, her arms loose but her wrists rigid, which reminded me more of tug of war than of a dog owner’s grip. The leash united the woman and her bloated, distrait pride and gave the sensation of holding them dependent on one another, though simultaneously, they appeared to detest each other.

“Yes, they like each other.” I lied, and then my Terrier suddenly turned away from the doggess, as though he sensed something innately rotten about her, “She…your dog seems very docile.” I concluded, after a brief pause.

“Oh, no, she’s very stubborn.” The woman replied, her smile wavering momentarily. “When I tell her it’s time to go home, she sits there and doesn’t move. She likes to sit there and watch the trees, or the wild cats running around.” She appeared disconcerted as to what her attitude should be towards such disobedience; she lingered between indulgent allowance and stern reprimand.

“Ah. Maybe if you prod her, or…” I began helpfully, but she immediately cut me off.

“No, no. I can’t hit the dog, I love her too much. And it isn’t as if I haven’t tried everything else. Once she gets the idea that she wants to sit, there’s no moving her until she’s ready to go.”

The woman’s infatuation with her companion, and her reluctance to make the doggess obey her, puzzled me. The hierarchy had suffered a reversal- I wondered who the master was and who the servant. The leash bound her to the doggess rather than the other way around.

“In that case, I suppose you wait for her to get up on her own?” I questioned, my interest morbidly piqued.

“That’s right. Sometimes she takes more than an hour. I try to make the best of it, and talk to people, like yourself. It really isn’t so bad. She’s all I have left, anyway. My husband died a few years ago and my children are away from home.”

“I’m sorry about your husband.” I uttered without much conviction. Then I felt the sudden urge to leave her presence; my mouth tasted like cardboard, as it usually does when I am disgusted by the human condition.

“Well, I have to return home now. I’ll see you later.” I communicated quickly, struggling to maintain decorum, hoping that I would never behold her slight frame or the white monolith, imperturbable and unyielding, that she is tied to.

The old woman’s aura of uncertainty frightened me, especially because I had recognized it. I had recognized the futility of her struggle, how she had become irreversibly attached to her doggess, and how that animal, looming now in my convoluted memory as a menhir- a massive, cumbersome obelisk- had come to dominate her will. That morning, I felt as if I had glanced at myself in the mirror and seen there a man bound to all his ghosts.

The doggess herself did not scare me; rather, the woman’s servility towards an
entity she should be able to control chilled my blood. The woman, so remote from me in every aspect, through the strange association of all things in the world, reminded me of my own leash, the one that ties me to that great white obelisk of mortality, thoroughly knotted around my soul by intangible, manipulative entities.

Well, reading this a month or two after I read it, I can see a lot of weaknesses, but I decided to present its unadulterated version to see if your analysis coincides with mine. That way my opinion will be validated, and I will be backed by reason and honesty if I decide to edit it.

[Guest]

Hey I kinda thought your stoy was kwl
Im new so I dont know what to do
PLZ HELP ME!!!!!
LOL:)

That would be great lol
;) :) ;) :) ;)

[DeadManWalking]

Nice D. Kinda exhausted right now from a long day, but it looks fine to me. Sometimes small faults makes everything else stand out all the more.

And btw, GF, there is an introduction thread, for those who wish to tell all of their newness.

There are also many different places where you can read about the proper things to do, and, failing that, the Inn, where there are often many who can help and inform you.

(I apologize for my dreary lucidity; i'm tired, and not as elaborate or random as usual.)

[Guest]

Hey your story was great!!!!!!!!:) ;)
When are you going to write some more?????

[D-Lotus]

I'm not sure. My academic life has been pretty busy lately, and I've lost some of my eagerness to write. In fact, right now I should be writing an essay about Dorian Gray. But I'm glad you like the story.

[Guest]

lol
I know what you meen by not having eagerness ;)


sorry about my spelling is 3:48am

Im kinda tired:);)