What you can’t see
A stranger now silently skulks through the long shadows of a Veilheim night. Hooded and masked in the darkened streets, they take long steps at a quick pace, the rough gravel beneath their feet unmoving and soundless. They turn their eyes to the night sky, with a low growl and odd braying sound seemingly emitting from them though their mouth never opens. Under the brilliantly starry sky the remaining three moons shine, noticeably less brightly than they once had been, and as our stranger takes of their hood to reveal flowing golden hair, and an oddly shaped jaw, those few moons seem to wink out of existence one by one.
The departure of a moon had always been a bad omen for the people of Veilheim, and on this one night it was this very departure that sent people into the wildest frenzy seen since ‘The Night of Drinking’, although this night in particular consisted of panic and disorder moreso than slurred insults regarding the size of individual’s genitalia. Among all this panic and disorder, a squat man with closely cropped chin hair, a wild twinkle in his eyes and a sparkling bejeweled top hat sat in an equally ostentatious office, kicking the bottom of the desk at which he sat. Dressed in a tux that reeked of the scent of a man trying to impress, he pondered the situation that was causing wild riots not 5 metres away, and how he would address his responsibility as the town’s mayor in such a crisis. Though he was short, Mayor Stiltskins had never been short on cunning and intelligence. He threw his doors open, ready to address the crowd, with his miraculous, and politically perfect solution, just as the chaos began.
Outside, among the marches and the wild mobs, a small minority had been engaged in a more obscure practice. This minority consisted of the many dregs of society; the hags, the dropouts, and many other insignificants that I dare not waste time describing. As these figures gathered in a dark circle, chanting in guttural sounds that shook one to the core, they each reflected on the pains of their lives, the suffering they had undergone. Understanding that the end was nigh from the ill omens that the sky had brought, they called on all forces supernatural and fantastical to purge their existence of all impurity, and inadvertently caused their own end. Though true magic was a rarity nowadays; those few who could shape reality to their will were often in positions with little incentive to aid others, small tomes and remnants of their previous exploits still remained, with faint traces that could be used in conjunction with others for the same effect. This particular tome, a tattered and torn collection of loosely bound pages at the center of this eerie chanting of arcane incantations, now erupted with a vile green fog. It spread throughout the room, reaching with grasping tendrils for the nearest targets to make its victim. As it touched their bodies, the individuals froze and slowly the emerald mist rose upwards in ghostly tendrils toward their mouth. Spiraling and intrusive it entered their lungs; an acrid and foul entity that burned them from the inside. Now you see the various dregs in the room had quite obviously not read the safety warnings and further instruction that can always be found on the second to last page of any tome of magic origin. Similar to a scientist not conducting a risk assessment, a practitioner of magic not reading safety warnings was tantamount to a death wish. As this fog rolled about, it entered its victims as billowing green fog emanated from every orifice. Their eyes, leaking with it as if they were crying obscure tears. Their mouths agape, and their bloodied eyes bleeding blood, the ethereal gas rolling off of their tongues as their very flesh melted from the inside out.
The fog brought with it terror, it was a dark reflection of that which the citizens of Veilheim did not know; that which they could not understand. Summoned out of fear and panic it acted accordingly, spreading till a thick layer formed. At this point even the starry night sky, absent of the moons that had caused this tragedy was not visible to any of the unseeing fools below. They simply went on singing to a tune they knew not, dancing with comical outstretched limbs bound by the strings of their fears like marionettes. Unseeing, yet… foolish enough to believe they saw.
Our dearest Mayor Stiltskins, who had finally come to terms with the events that led to the initial chaos, was now at a loss for words as the fog promptly rolled in and liquified the majority of the chaotic mob. It was quite simply, terrifying.
Just a man, cunning as he was, Mayor Stiltskins had always hated, always feared, that which was beyond him. Envious and determined, he had quickly torn down those who stood above, but this, this monstrous fog was different altogether. As he watched it envelop the crowd that had been shouting and jeering mere moments ago, he felt stuck. For once Mayor Johnathan Stiltskins, a man who never could be beaten, who was renowned throughout the city for making his way from nothing as the bastard child of a poor mother to a respectable leader in society, was stumped. This fog that now lay before him blocked out everything, silencing it all. Not a cry could be heard, not a face could be seen, all was gone, all was still.
All he saw, was himself. His gaze was fixed, his mind at loss. As the fog encroached, Stiltskins saw only his own ratty face, now blank with absolute terror reflecting back at him at every angle.
And he couldn’t see.
Nobody could see.
Nobody saw the three moons come back into view as a thick passing cloud that had blotted out the moon, now made way for the glimmering moonlight.
It illuminated the town that now lay as a wasteland devoid of cheerful life that was Veilheim…
But they couldn’t see…
Written Explanation of the chaotic story you see!!!
This story was primarily based around Rushdie’s short story “At the Auction of the Ruby Slippers”. I made attempts to emulate the abstract writing style, but rather than making direct parallels I chose to put my own twist, by using my own themes and ideas and conveying through a similar abstract fantasy. My introduction was made to be more dynamic, than descriptive, similar to Rushdie’s style in “The Prophet’s Hair”, with a clear unexplained mystery and confronting event that is later explained. Rather than opting for a more interactive narration, I decided to keep a distant omniscient third person perspective, as I believed this added to the feeling that gave the setting of the story ‘Veilheim’ a feeling of richness and authenticity. Throughout the story my plot begins to devolve, where at first it was a coherent form of storytelling it rapidly descends into a small bit of satire on society after the climax. Although this may have been somewhat confusing, it was for the most part an artistic choice, meant to be reflective of the state of the town as the chaos unfolded. It ends on an ironic note, with the desperation and panic of the townspeople ultimately being their undoing. The overall theme I attempted to explore was the danger of impatience (if you look at the shallow aspect), and perhaps more accurately, our inevitable tendency to act based on the limited information we have. There was also a minor theme in the character of Stiltskins, a prideful yet ultimately useless politician with an inferiority complex who serves to comment on the ability of a lone politician without the people they serve. Finally, this task was also based on a symbol dictionary, from which the idea of fog was initially drawn, I chose to use what the symbol meant to me as a person, that being deceit and that which is obscured, which also prompted the name of the piece “What you can’t see”. I mostly tried to employ the use of imagery and had a distinct lack of dialogue because the characters themselves were not the focus of the story.
Techniques:
Polyptoton: Polyptoton refers to the use of a word followed by the repetition of that words noun and can be used towards a kind of humorous effect. It seems quite comical when you first read it ^^. There are other ways to create a polyptoton, the main criteria is that they sound similar or come from the same thing. Eg: … their bloodied eyes bleeding blood…
Note on what I thought of it: It is difficult to use this effectively as it seems to come off as unnatural, so unless it is intended to make the reader look back upon the sentence, don’t use this for descriptions.
Hendiadys refers to the literary technique where you have an adverb describing an adjective. Eg. Simply Terrifying. It can be used to make things seem very dramatic or as though they have an extra punch in way. I didn’t feel very comfortable using this too frequently in my writing and ended up putting in in a fashion I worry is too unnatural.
Overall, my short story was meant to appear confusing and as though it was slowly dissolving into chaos. I tried to pain vivid and descriptive images in a reader’s mind, then wisk them away, so that they felt fleeting, like fog. Although initially I felt I wasn’t conveying it very well, I chose to dramatically increase the number of short and improper unfinished sentences as I reached the end of the story. The beginning had a more descriptive style that rapidly deteriorated and I hope the reader is at the very at least affronted by this, maybe confused and perhaps even left wondering about what it all means. The short descriptive phrase where Dee is described as a man who was always ahead but now finds himself in despair, allowed me to comment on my themes a little. I really hope you enjoyed the short story and maybe understood a bit of my message!!! Thankyou for reading.
