“Your problem,” the doctor began, laying down his stethoscope “Is in being too real.”
The carriage clock on his desk chimed nine. “Your heart-aches, the dreams, memory loss, the peculiar sensation of moths in your lungs can all be attributed to this cause.”
I pinched my cheeks, rolling my tounge around the cavern of mouth. That couldn’t be right, I had been trying so hard not to exist. I had read all the right sort of books, while eating, walking, waiting for the train. I had changed my name at least three times in the last week. I had thought in the third person and past tense. I had even memorised The Jabberwocky until I could recite it backwards.
“A healthy girl of your age,” he continued, I wasn’t listening “ought to be no more real than a silk slip or a corn husk.”
My shoes felt too big all of a sudden. I was gripped by the fear that perhaps I had tried too hard. Tulle, ice, spectacles, fog.. I was forgetting something.
“Not to worry,” his bony hands scrawled something illegible on a yellow pad.
Windows, raindrops, crystal, plastic wrap.. oh, that was it. I had gone through to the other side, like cordial through a gauze sleeve. In unbecoming, I was nothing, and through nothing you can see everything. Everything, more bright and bold and painful than a gasp.
“Take three in the morning and two with your afternoon tea.” the doctor handed over the script.
I thanked him, turned, and walked through the wall.
August 4, 2010
51 responses to transparent things
This is just amazing, I don’t think I can explain it any better than that.
Oh, thank you, truly. I don’t think it’s amazing, but I will keep trying to write better.
It is better to be too real and feel every ache in the universe than to be nothing more than a silk slip. You know, you know.
It can be such a lonely thing.
The more we try to fade, the more we catch on things. It isn’t fair. xx
Wow. What a lovely short story!
Thank you dear, I am so happy you still like my stories.
Beautiful! Your writing always fills me up with magic.
Thank you, sometimes I feel I will overflow if I don’t write.
Sometimes I feel like this. Too real. Too alert to the vibrations around me. Sometimes I want to be a little less real to mute the pain of feeling so much.
I love that your words always seem to capture pieces of my heart <3
Oh, yes, it is just like that. I try to be less real, like storybook people, only to find they are more real than we are. x
yes, YES!
This has awoken my pulse…
To awaken this slow beast is to fluff the moths and lean into their dance… away from here… just to follow their lead.
So pretty.
I love your comment so, my pulse beats quickly when I think of these things, I’m glad I’m not the only one.
Very lovely and deep story. It’s so sad how so many try not to exist… or instead merely existing instead of truly living. Everything in our life should be real, even if it’s only real to us. It’s what makes life so special. <3
You are right in every word. Thank you. <3
I love this. I cannot even begin to tell you.
Thank you sweet. x
Oh Skye, this was so, so beautiful. I’m afraid I must be much too real as well. But exactly as Olivia said, must be better than anything, in truth.
All my love xxx
Eliza, I know you know all about transparent things, your words are always too real.
love. x
Your words always leave me with so many thought inside and around me about all those ways persons can be…
Thank you.
I have too many of these thoughts, so I am glad to have them find new homes in other people’s heads. Thank you.
This is really very lovely and effectively thought-provoking, particularly when read aloud to oneself. ♡
Oh, I am so glad you read it aloud. That is the best way. That makes things real, like Meggie and Mo.
This is so beautifully written, though I don’t think I would ever want to not exist. To not exist is to leave this world and become nothing. I have to much attachment to the magic here on this earth. The trees and flowers, the rainbow of animals, all the singing brookes and streams and everything else that lives along with us. In no way could I ever part with them.
I am so happy for you. That is the best and truest way to be. Thank you.
Lovely, very lovely.
I feel rather guilty after reading this, I am not always real. To feel everything, always… I am afraid to do this.
It is such an easy thing, to be no more than a “silk slip”. It takes a brave person to allow your heart to ache.
You are not alone in this Alice, and I love you for your honesty. x
Oh, Skye, this is perfectly wonderful. I think I would like to pitch a little tent in that grand mind of yours and stay awhile. I think you must be right, it must be the ones who try so hard not to exist that end up being the most real. They feel too much to be anything but, I think.
xxx
Elly, you don’t need a tent in mine as your own is brimming with magic and half-forgotten stories, a sargasso sea. I should like to sail through on a paper boat some day.
xxx
After I read this, all I could do was hold my hand over my heart. Then I called my friend over so he could also read this perfect little morsel of fine writing. Gorgeous, Skye, Gorgeous as always.
Thank you sweet one, I think you are gorgeous.
would you stop blowing my mind away? i can’t find it now -_-
look in the letter box.
Oh, Skye, this is wonderful. It’s very nice, yes. You should write a book, and if not, at least compile short stories and sell it. I would love that so much.
Thank you. Would you believe I can never finish a story? I am daunted by novels and my short stories have no endings. All I can seem to write are thimble tales.
Your writings are always so beautiful, fills me with hope and happiness every time I read them =)
Thank you Mika, may you have an endless supply of both.
hmm..very peculiar passage m’dear.
But nonetheless enjoyable.
I feel very peculiar sometimes. Thank you.
It’s almost unbelievable how quickly all of your stories spread to my fingers and toes and stay. Like hot chocolate when it’s cold. Your worlds are hot chocolate.
P.S.: Your listography account is my favourite of all, I wish I could crawl into your lists. xxx
Vera dear, I hope your fingers aren’t too cold, I should dearly miss your typing. xxx
p.s. It has been the greatest comfort to me lately. I would love to read your lists if you have one.
I think some of us (not excluding myself) try too hard to be someone we’re not, so hard that we forget ourselves completely. And ’tis a sad thing indeed when we do this on purpose.
Beautiful writing. I agree, you should write a book or something of the nature. <3
I wonder if we can actually be someone we are not. I rather think that maybe we try too hard to be one of our selves, and neglect the others. At least that is what I am most guilty of.
Thank you for your thoughts. <3
Lovely. I love the concept behind this.
Thank you so much. x
Words can not quite grasp the amount of love I feel for this post – the concept is innovative, yet the way you “executed” it (I’m making this sound way too technical) contains every element of fantasy & whimsy that’s so inherent to your style of writing.
Oh, thank you Heleen. I’m glad you understand how hard it is to make birds fly. You are the kindest. x
I just love this! So whimsical. :D And so very true.
Thank you Merry. I’ve missed you on tumblr but I have to say your blog is looking wonderful.
Oh … wow. This is so beautiful. I want to write it down in my journal.
I always feel like I’m erasing my self, maybe like this.
This text scared me, made me think and comforted me.
Your words are beautiful. I just love it.