After Monkey’s paw
In a far off land, there once lived a smooth pebble. By pebble standards, his complexion was very pale as he was couldn’t bear to go out into the harsh sun and play with the other young pebbles. His life was very quiet and his internal solitude was exacerbated by his current existential cul de sac and his physical isolation which actually, was a consequence of illness rather than choice but luckily, he liked his own company so this isolation, for the most part, was a pleasure.
Sometimes, peter, this was his name, would sit at the mouth of his dark cave, bathed in a kind of cliched melancholia as he watched the other pebbles playing their carefree games in the sun. Peter wasn’t very close to his immediate family, and although they loved him dearly, they thought him a little odd. His mother had raised him alone so many of his unconscious gestures and characteristics were quite effeminate but this didn’t seem to concern him now that he was through his teenage years. He had assorted idiosyncrasies that were really quite comical to the viewer but to peter the pebble, sometimes, these broke his little stone heart. One of these characteristics was a nervous tick we like to dub tourettes and this would cause the little pebble the most embarrassing scenarios. Another of these traits was that he had an immensely profound empathy for other pebbles, rock, and stones, in fact, any type of stratified form. Peter was therefore particularly susceptible to the pain and sadness of others,regardless of race,sex, or personal differences.
Peter spent most of his days alone studying the steady stream of stone life and other absurd creatures that passed through his garden on their way to bask in the sun. He was frightened by some of these monsters but at the same time, he found them quite interesting and alluring. The pebble lived in one of the fabulous and bustling of pebble cities but the reality was that he found this city repugnant and he viewed it accordingly, with the jaded spectacles of one who sees the true nature of city life. It was rare in this city to find a rock that could exist and with a pebble without any cultural or religious implications and this caused the little pebble much sadness. Out of all creatures he expected more from his kind but as ever, he remained disappointed. The pebble thought, perhaps naively, it was as simple as allowing unconditional love for his fellow creatures but somehow, in reality, this seemed to be unattainable. Slate would not mix with granite, diamonds thought they were better than coal and after all, they were, at heart, exactly the same thing. He knew that his counterparts needed to feel this illusion of difference to one another. To create a semblance of individuality but he felt that the root of this behaviour was anachronistic and an unnecessary defence mechanism, after all, there were other ways to keep an individual identity that didn’t have such a negative impact on his society as a whole. On a more superficial level, feeling superior to one another was another governing but dividing factor of this behaviour and he despised this illusory fact with a passion. His patience was at an end with all of this nonsense. He was a simple and sensitive creature, and more than anything else in his world, he wanted his fellow creatures to love each other and make happy little cave paintings in the huge rock cathedrals.
One day, which was the same as most other days, he sat in his cave making his little wall drawings when there was a knock at the cave door. He wasn’t expecting anyone and was feeling quite fragile so anxiety overtook him but he decided to answer anyway. On answering the door, his tick kicked in. “Cock” he blurted out. It seemed to be aggravated by stress and an over developed analytical thought process so each time he was in a new environment, or he was thinking too hard about any one thing, he would blurt out the ‘funniest’ of obscenities. This depended on one’s vantage point, as mostly, the delicate little pebble was mortified when these foul words streamed forth from his mouth. At the door was a large rock eyeing him strangely. The pebble assumed the rock would be selling something, as that is what most rocks tended to do. Like most other creatures made from natural stratification he cold sometimes be cavalier with his assumptions “Good morning, sir” said the rock. Somehow, the voice of the rock was familiar and comforting to peter but he could not place it. Peter was instantly intrigued by the familiarity the voice engendered in him and bade him enter. I have been given a task by the rock god to wander the earth until I can find a soul pure enough to pass on my burden. The pebble’s curiosity grew as the rock’s story unfolded but peter was thinking he was very strange and a little bit forward telling him all of this but he told the rock to continue with his tale.
Peter could not possibly know that the rock was lying. It was the devil that had cursed him to wander the earth with his burden but the naïve pebble had no inkling of this.
Sir, said the rock, “I have a chance for you to possess anything your heart desires. All you have to do is pay me a modicum of cash and answer me one question and this talisman, which can grant your hearts desires can be yours. My father gave it to me and it was given to him by his father and his father before him .I have no children so I am free to pass it on to a stranger and I have chosen you. I watched you at the mouth of your cave, bathed in what appeared to be self pity and felt you were deserving of such a gift.” Peter the pebble was elated. “So ask me the question,” said the peter impatiently. “What do you think is more likely to happen?” said the rock, “a rich man entering into the kingdom of heaven or a camel passing through the eye of a needle?”
The little pebble thought about this for a moment and then said, “I guess that would depend if we were talking literally or metaphorically but taking it as a metaphor and from a personal point of view, I would have to say it would be easier to pass the camel through the eye of the needle”. The rock appeared to be content with this answer and said, “Give me all the money in your little pocket, and this wondrous talisman shall be yours”. Peter emptied his pocket and handed over the princely sum of seven rupees.
The rock handed over the talisman and left without saying another word. Peter immediately rushed inside to begin abusing his new panacea for mortality’s negatives. His mind was racing and he was confusing himself with the ensuing torrents of internal dialogue and suggestions for improving the world and by default his life. What should he begin with first? He wondered if he could make the unrealistic and cliched wish for an end to poverty and world peace like a contestant in a beauty pageant. Perhaps, he thought, he could wish for the best sandwich in the world or for wealth and success or simply for an end to his fucking indecision and internal dialogue and of course an end to his tourettes.
More than anything else, he wanted an end to the existential quandary of loneliness that devoured him daily so he decided his first wish would be to fall in love. As soon as he voiced this wish, he had a sense that he had possibly made some dire oversight but this soon passed and he waited in earnest for his new love to appear. He went back inside his cave to rinse the day’s dirt from his face. As he leaned over his pool to wash, an intense feeling overwhelmed him. He saw the most beautiful pebble creature staring back at him. Peter had never been in love so he had no idea that this was the emotion he was now feeling. He had fallen in love with his own reflection. He decided he would accept this fact or it would cost him another wish and if truth were told, he was already a little narcissistic and this would simplify the whole relationship dilemma. Peter wanted to experience a connection with his fellow stones but he found this almost impossible. He was intolerant of what he saw as immoral or unnecessary behaviour from the other stone creatures and this made it very hard for him to accept others. He wanted to be able to embrace fashion on every level. From the way others made their drawings to the way they thought about what they made and how they behaved and yet his inability to conform kept him on the outside on every level. He often felt as if he existed within Dantesque circles. If he was honest, he quite liked some facets of being an outsider but it could get quite lonely.
He decided for his next wish he wanted arms long enough to embrace every culture, philosophy, and belief system. Suddenly, as when he gazed at is reflection, he was overcome by another foreign emotion, He succumbed to the feeling he had lost his identity and although this was only an illusion it felt incredibly real. Peter watched his arms in awe as they began to grow. They grew till there was very little room in the little cave and then headed straight out the entrance and kept on growing.
Immediately, he felt lost and really quite silly with such ridiculously long arms. There was only one wish left and the very thing that plagued his life the most overcame the little pebble. He realised his internal dialogue and his indecision were the only things he wished to change about his life and that in reality, although he was often debilitated by poverty and despair, he actually loved his life, and who he was. The obvious solution was to use his final wish to make everything as it was before the talisman was used so this is what peter the pebble did.
After Monkey’s paw
In a far off land, there once lived a smooth pebble. By pebble standards, his complexion was very pale as he was couldn’t bear to go out into the harsh sun and play with the other young pebbles. His life was very quiet and his internal solitude was exacerbated by his current existential cul de sac and his physical isolation which actually, was a consequence of illness rather than choice but luckily, he liked his own company so this isolation, for the most part, was a pleasure.
Sometimes, peter, this was his name, would sit at the mouth of his dark cave, bathed in a kind of cliched melancholia as he watched the other pebbles playing their carefree games in the sun. Peter wasn’t very close to his immediate family, and although they loved him dearly, they thought him a little odd. His mother had raised him alone so many of his unconscious gestures and characteristics were quite effeminate but this didn’t seem to concern him now that he was through his teenage years. He had assorted idiosyncrasies that were really quite comical to the viewer but to peter the pebble, sometimes, these broke his little stone heart. One of these characteristics was a nervous tick we like to dub tourettes and this would cause the little pebble the most embarrassing scenarios. Another of these traits was that he had an immensely profound empathy for other pebbles, rock, and stones, in fact, any type of stratified form. Peter was therefore particularly susceptible to the pain and sadness of others-regardless of race or sex, or personal differences.
Peter spent most of his days alone studying the steady stream of stone life and other absurd creatures that passed through his garden on their way to bask in the sun. He was frightened by some of these monsters but at the same time, he found them quite interesting and alluring. The pebble lived in one of the fabulous and bustling of pebble cities but the reality was that he found this city repugnant and he viewed it accordingly, with the jaded spectacles of one who sees the true nature of city life. It was rare in this city to find a rock that could exist and with a pebble without any cultural or religious implications and this caused the little pebble much sadness. Out of all creatures he expected more from his kind but as ever, he remained disappointed. The pebble thought, perhaps naively, it was as simple as allowing unconditional love for his fellow creatures but somehow, in reality, this seemed to be unattainable. Slate would not mix with granite, diamonds thought they were better than coal and after all, they were, at heart, exactly the same thing. He knew that his counterparts needed to feel this illusion of difference to one another. To create a semblance of individuality but he felt that the root of this behaviour was anachronistic and an unnecessary defence mechanism, after all, there were other ways to keep an individual identity that didn’t have such a negative impact on his society as a whole. On a more superficial level, feeling superior to one another was another governing but dividing factor of this behaviour and he despised this illusory fact with a passion. His patience was at an end with all of this nonsense. He was a simple and sensitive creature, and more than anything else in his world, he wanted his fellow creatures to love each other and make happy little cave paintings in the huge rock cathedrals.
One day, which was the same as most other days, he sat in his cave making his little wall drawings when there was a knock at the cave door. He wasn’t expecting anyone and was feeling quite fragile so anxiety overtook him but he decided to answer anyway. On answering the door, his tick kicked in. “Cock” he blurted out. It seemed to be aggravated by stress and an over developed analytical thought process so each time he was in a new environment, or he was thinking too hard about any one thing, he would blurt out the ‘funniest’ of obscenities. This depended on one’s vantage point, as mostly, the delicate little pebble was mortified when these foul words streamed forth from his mouth. At the door was a large rock eyeing him strangely. The pebble assumed the rock would be selling something, as that is what most rocks tended to do. Like most other creatures made from natural stratification he cold sometimes be cavalier with his assumptions “Good morning, sir” said the rock. Somehow, the voice of the rock was familiar and comforting to peter but he could not place it. Peter was instantly intrigued by the familiarity the voice engendered in him and bade him enter. I have been given a task by the rock god to wander the earth until I can find a soul pure enough to pass on my burden. The pebble’s curiosity grew as the rock’s story unfolded but peter was thinking he was very strange and a little bit forward telling him all of this but he told the rock to continue with his tale.
Peter could not possibly know that the rock was lying. It was the devil that had cursed him to wander the earth with his burden but the naïve pebble had no inkling of this.
Sir, said the rock, “I have a chance for you to possess anything your heart desires. All you have to do is pay me a modicum of cash and answer me one question and this talisman, which can grant your hearts desires can be yours. My father gave it to me and it was given to him by his father and his father before him .I have no children so I am free to pass it on to a stranger and I have chosen you. I watched you at the mouth of your cave, bathed in what appeared to be self pity and felt you were deserving of such a gift.” Peter the pebble was elated. “So ask me the question,” said the peter impatiently. “What do you think is more likely to happen?” said the rock, “a rich man entering into the kingdom of heaven or a camel passing through the eye of a needle?”
The little pebble thought about this for a moment and then said, “I guess that would depend if we were talking literally or metaphorically but taking it as a metaphor and from a personal point of view, I would have to say it would be easier to pass the camel through the eye of the needle”. The rock appeared to be content with this answer and said, “Give me all the money in your little pocket, and this wondrous talisman shall be yours”. Peter emptied his pocket and handed over the princely sum of seven rupees.
The rock handed over the talisman and left without saying another word. Peter immediately rushed inside to begin abusing his new panacea for mortality’s negatives. His mind was racing and he was confusing himself with the ensuing torrents of internal dialogue and suggestions for improving the world and by default his life. What should he begin with first? He wondered if he could make the unrealistic and cliched wish for an end to poverty and world peace like a contestant in a beauty pageant. Perhaps, he thought, he could wish for the best sandwich in the world or for wealth and success or simply for an end to his fucking indecision and internal dialogue and of course an end to his tourettes.
More than anything else, he wanted an end to the existential quandary of loneliness that devoured him daily so he decided his first wish would be to fall in love. As soon as he voiced this wish, he had a sense that he had possibly made some dire oversight but this soon passed and he waited in earnest for his new love to appear. He went back inside his cave to rinse the day’s dirt from his face. As he leaned over his pool to wash, an intense feeling overwhelmed him. He saw the most beautiful pebble creature staring back at him. Peter had never been in love so he had no idea that this was the emotion he was now feeling. He had fallen in love with his own reflection. He decided he would accept this fact or it would cost him another wish and if truth were told, he was already a little narcissistic and this would simplify the whole relationship dilemma. Peter wanted to experience a connection with his fellow stones but he found this almost impossible. He was intolerant of what he saw as immoral or unnecessary behaviour from the other stone creatures and this made it very hard for him to accept others. He wanted to be able to embrace fashion on every level. From the way others made their drawings to the way they thought about what they made and how they behaved and yet his inability to conform kept him on the outside on every level. He often felt as if he existed within Dantesque circles. If he was honest, he quite liked some facets of being an outsider but it could get quite lonely.
He decided for his next wish he wanted arms long enough to embrace every culture, philosophy, and belief system. Suddenly, as when he gazed at is reflection, he was overcome by another foreign emotion, He succumbed to the feeling he had lost his identity and although this was only an illusion it felt incredibly real. Peter watched his arms in awe as they began to grow. They grew till there was very little room in the little cave and then headed straight out the entrance and kept on growing.
Immediately, he felt lost and really quite silly with such ridiculously long arms. There was only one wish left and the very thing that plagued his life the most overcame the little pebble. He realised his internal dialogue and his indecision were the only things he wished to change about his life and that in reality, although he was often debilitated by poverty and despair, he actually loved his life, and who he was. The obvious solution was to use his final wish to make everything as it was before the talisman was used so this is what peter the pebble did.
1 comment:
i have no idea why it keeps posting twice- perhaps im being blonde but its really annoying...i have deleted the blog totally twice and reposted and both times it has done the same thing so apologies but i give up.
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