Some things cannot be put right...

A New Year's microstory

Pancho incognito, a bit embarrassed about what I have to say about him

Some things cannot be put right

I write this as a diary. It is the 87th of Walrup, the year of Alred's ascension, the sun has not set for twelve cycles, the dreaded Ape-Things have broken down the wall gate, there are flames in the valley, we cannot ho—

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A little commentary (can be ignored, possibly annoying, at best pointless)

Apparently, I took a break from writing Out & Back posts. This crept up on me, as things will. A week off, then another, then a month had slipped by. Then another, even. It was an avalanche gaining momentum as it slid down a mountainside, sweeping up my best intentions along with skiers, backcountry hikers, small dogs, children, entire villages as it churned relentlessly forward. I was in the middle of writing another post about my trip to Grenada when I stopped.

I have experience with this. The other day I was leash-walking Pancho on Gonyeau Road, when he stopped, refusing to go another step forward (going home was okay with him). It was not in his makeup to carry on as we had done day after day prior to this. He was done.

In Pancho’s case, I put this down to moral decay consonant upon too much easy living, everything handed to him on a platter, treats galore, doors opened to answer his whims, someone (not to be named) letting him under the covers at night, and overpraise for his one trick.

In my case? Well, yes, probably the same.

I just read this bit by Paul Keegan in a back issue of the London Review of Books.

It seems true that short stories are often less easy to summarise than novels, with no need to tidy loose ends, or even any obligation to end, and that their content often communicates something other than their subject, as if, at certain levels of compression, brevity starts to tell its own story.

In this little story, I wanted evoke a feeling of horror, menace, and endings, of a world overwhelmed, of bravery, despair, and hopelessness. I showed it to Melissa who threw up her hands and said, “That’s it. That’s exactly how I feel today. That’s the way the world is.”

There are certainly places in the world where people are experiencing this right now, and not metaphorically.

But it’s a feeling not a reference to a specific event, that feeling of the wave coming over, of submersion. The bad is coming. No escape.

I might just be in a cranky mood. Or I just had a birthday. Or I am starting to get the annual tax prep notices from my accountant.

But there is irony. It’s a joke. I use popular sci-fi memes to set up the situation. We’ve all seen the movies, read the books. You just need about three words to signal the reader that we are not in this world. Walrup? It’s not even a word, but you get it.

So you don’t have to feel too sad. The darkness is at arm’s length. That’s the way we get through.

Awful, darkness, horror, Ape-Things in the front yard, future bleak.