RE: The Exquisite Corpse: A Weekly Story Nobody Fully Controls
"Are you giggling?" Jon, who turned out to be Dutch, asked, his hair ruffled. "Are you putting on some sort of theatre show, testing just how far you can go? Are you not a man of your word at all, and do you really not like rolling those stones to the top? Have you just made it all up? I could well imagine that you don’t have a wife at all. If I were you, I’d stop this right now, drama queen, otherwise you’ll need those stones for something else – like building your own 'hunnebed'."
I said: I tell you, your sense of humour isn’t exactly great. You can clearly see he’s dead serious; perhaps he’s giggling because he’s nervous – it’s not easy to start something new; it takes courage. You know yourself what it’s like, when everyone thinks the same, nobody thinks. It’s not easy being an artist, even if you’ve got an art degree.
"That’s true", said Jon: #freeartfreesart, but not the artist. All those materials have to be bought first, and just try standing out amongst all those bananas stuck to the wall... Phew
‘What do you think of being a sculptor?’ I asked my friend. He had enormous hands and could certainly, just like Thor on his anvil, deliver some fantastic karate blows with them. No tools needed.
The giggling stopped abruptly. My friend wasn’t the brightest of the lot and was, indeed, a bit of a wimp. A nudge in the right direction is what he needed, and a fat bank balance, I realised. I was struggling myself and trying to hide my depression. I’d only come here to see the caves and find a quiet spot to die alone.
‘Let’s walk up together,’ I suggested, ‘roll that stone up too – I’ve got a great idea…’ (would that stone be able to close the entrance to a cave of my choice?)...
7.9.26
Translation: deepl.com
Right now..? I thought that was a suggestion for something to happen in the future. Why now? You knew that I was feeling tired from rolling all those stones. You know that, and you still asked the question with all seriousness. I could see that on your face. It is just the way that you act, isn't it? You just try to lure others to say things that they try to hide. It is that attitude that you cannot let go off, isn't it? Well, this time is going to be different. We are still going to roll that stone up. But, while we are at it, I need you to tell me what happened when you disappeared for two years. How has it been? I heard rumors that it was not something that you wanted to do. It was a favor to someone dear to you. It is those little things that you try to hide. Well, let us get ready to move and you can start telling me all about it while we are moving.
"Two years?" I muttered, my hands slipping on the wet, mossy granite as the boulder wobbled between us. A sharp gust of sea wind nearly knocked the breath out of me, but I held my ground. "You call it a favor, but back then, it felt more like taking the hit for a fire I didn't start."
I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my forearm and looked him dead in the eye, the heavy stone trembling under our weight. "I stayed away because if I came back any sooner, the whole village would have known whose hands were really on that chest. But since we're finally talking... tell me, Ronnie, did you ever open it while I was gone, or is the rusty padlock still sitting on the bottom of the cove?"
The narrator of this story, a certain @ladyaryastark, saw that the experiment was getting out of hand. Sisyphus was no longer carrying a stone to the top of the mountain only to have it roll back down into the void, but rather a "wet, mossy grain," like river sediment, in his hands. Then he stopped to reflect: Can an absurd life cease to be absurd at a certain point? What is the point of bearing the "weight" of what happens in the world if not even the reflections written by @gor671, so insightful, will be read by the "masters of the world"? Do I become anxious about the present, or do I close my eyes and immerse myself in this narrative where @ronnie asks about the two years I spent in Hades? Does Ronnie not know that the underworld of before is now our world?
Ladyaryastark read what Sol had written, and she was furious to see that this "newcomer" was trying to read her thoughts, then she took control of her "exquisite corpse" and decided that we should return to the moment when Mr. Isbister was on the beach at Pentargen.
!dubby 14 %
What does "dubby 14%" mean?
Dubby is a nice German Bot - he'll get 80% Beneficiaries from original Post and share them among the participants of the contest. Every contributor gets 14%... ;-))
Great. I learned something new today, which is fantastic. I loved this "exquisite corpse" activity. We used to play it all the time in college—though not with narrative texts, but with poetry. Maybe we could try it that way.
You can always write a poem.
To me it feels the storyline was gone. It is unclear to me how many people were present. It feels as if not everyone read all the earlier parts or the translators (most likely) messed it up.
Thanks to everyone!
We look forward to seeing you at the second edition of this exquisite corpse.
https://steemx.org/hive-107855/@ladyaryastark/the-exquisite-corpse-a-weekly-story-nobody-fully-controls-2-p1m13z
Definitely. I'll be there.
!dubby 14 %
Sounds there's a 4th character introduced to the story or?
This BOOMING vote is yours and well deserved!
❤️🍀
I wonder who is at word. The Sissy?
This BOOMING vote is yours and well deserved!
❤️🍀
Thank you & have a nice day,
!dubby 14 %
!dubby 14 %