4.05.2011

pernicious concatenation

Week *seven* of the Indie Ink weekly writing challenge! In the challenge, participants are randomly challenged by our peers with a writing prompt.
Concatenation. Like a daisy chain, one action causes a reaction spawning consequences setting in motion yet another action and reaction and so on. All interconnected and shit, like a chain link fence. And so it was, and so it started, when I allowed myself to cross a line.

Of course, in my world, the line was bogus anyway. What's up with that, some kind of limits imposed on me, like I'm a dog being housetrained? I rejected the line. I wanted what I wanted, and what I wanted was all good and right. Some kinda pernicious self-fulfilling propaganda, that was.

So gentle was that night, so soft was the air that the creaking of the cellar door rang out like a warning shot. Sharp. Staccato. Doomed. What was I thinking? I could never get away with this. But I pushed forward, all bravado. Resorting to pusillanimous retreat was unthinkable.

She was such a beautiful girl. Like a teen magazine cover, her fresh-scrubbed skin and luscious lips beckoned me. I could eat her like a cupcake. I rifled through the photos in my precious shoebox until I found the one, the perfect one, the very one that would release me from my distressed state.

On the prowl then, I travelled block to block searching for her, wanting her, seeking her in every strange girl's eyes. In dark alleys where the rats and coatimundi outnumbered humans sleeping huddled in the shadows. Fervently I scurried beneath streetlights and along the aquaduct until ah! At last! I found her.

Arms akimbo, her fresh eyes gazing forever northward to that star on which her dreams were hitched. Her photo fluttered into a puddle as I was reduced to the same, a deliquescent disaster there on the pavement by my love's side. What happened? I was too late. Someone had already claimed my prize.

Next morning, I awoke in a lonely cell. Not knowing whether I would plead my case to the attache or to the archon, I strove to remain lucid and present. Flights of fancy and crossing of lines? Fuck that. Now I knew. Now I could see.
Alyssa of sputterbugg challenged me thusly: "You used to be __________ but you're not anymore. Why not; how did this change come?"

For help in addressing this prompt, I asked my TwitterFolk to tweet me their favorite nouns and adjectives in MadLibs fashion. I have used every one of their words in this story!