She was a young, vibrant artist.
He was a block of clay, with a checkered past.
It all seemed so unlikely ...
After Ralph shot himself, a cousin discovered his closet full of dresses and ran them down to the dumpster behind the building before anyone else in the family saw them. Ralph no longer cared who knew his secret. He was dead, after all - finally released from the weird stress of pretending to be male. Oblivion, he hoped, would be sweeter.
He didn’t expect to be reincarnated as a block of clay. Would you? Yet to Ralph it was not entirely an unpleasant surprise. He discovered that blocks of clay have some abilities unknown in his previous human existence. While he didn’t actually have any senses, he did have a certain kind of awareness of his surroundings and could drift a tiny bit outside himself and look back to get a sense of where he was. This is how he learned he was wrapped in plastic and sitting on a shelf. Without a brain it was a little hard to read the sign on the shelf in front of him, but Ralph got the idea that he was on sale.
Time passed, as it does for inanimate objects. Days can go by with absolutely nothing happening, yet they rarely get bored. Ralph knew he had the option to reflect on his past life, but he was still enjoying his new experience and was not in the mood to dwell on old failures.
He was a gray block of clay. No one expected him to behave like a sphere or a pyramid. Humans would wander past and sometimes look at his pricetag. Once a human reached past him and took away a gray block of clay that looked exactly like him. Ralph wasn’t sure what to think about that.
He discovered he didn’t have strong feelings about being bought or not being bought. The store was an interesting enough place and he wasn’t especially eager to leave it. He knew from his previous life how things could go from bad to worse rather quickly, and experience had made him a bit of a pessimist.
Until the girl with the green hat came into the store. She was young and lean and Ralph was enchanted by her clear blue eyes. She wore a red peasant skirt that was similar to a skirt Ralph once owned.
She didn’t seem to know what she wanted to buy. First she was fiddling with the rubber stamps, then she opened a few of the colored pencil sets, and cooed at the orderly rainbows inside. Ralph wanted to hop off the shelf and plop into her knapsack.
Blocks of clay can’t do this, of course, but sometimes they can slightly adjust some of their qualities if they feel intensely enough about a situation.
Ralph tried to wobble. He thought about swaying back and forth, perhaps enough to tumble over on his side, making a noise to attract the girl’s attention. He couldn’t do this. But maybe he could get his plastic wrapper to crinkle somehow? He tried pushing against it, but blocks of clay can’t push.
Somehow all this intense feeling must have caught the girl’s attention, because she suddenly turned around and stared right at Ralph.
There was a long moment as they just stared at each other. Then the girl in the green hat put down the pencil set and reached up and took Ralph in her hands.
Ralph felt dizzy as she took him up to her nose and sniffed him. He had a fresh, claylike odor, even through the plastic wrapper. Her fingers were soft and strong. Ralph pressed against the palm of her hand, melting slightly and remembering her contour.
Then she was carrying him toward the front of the store. Ralph was paid for and stuffed into her knapsack. It was warm and dark and full of her essence. He shuddered with bliss, and carefully examined her palmprint on his side.
Time passed. It may have been weeks, which feel like hours when you’re a thing. Something about the girl in the green hat had brought back a flood of memories from when Ralph was trying to be a man. His short, heartbreaking time with that girl in high school - what was her name? No matter. What joy she brought him in those early days! How giddy she made him feel, just by standing next to him. Later, her disappointments, and her eventual dismissal of him, were better forgotten.
One day the bag was opened and Ralph was suddenly taken in her hands. His wrapping was quickly stripped away and discarded, and the girl was pressing her thumbs deep into him as he gazed up in ecstasy. She worked him thoroughly until he was soft, then kneaded a wire deep inside him. To Ralph’s astonishment, he began to take on a human shape. The girl molded legs and arms for him, reinforced with the wire, then skillfully sculpted a small head to sit on his shoulders.
Ralph shuddered as she pressed against his stomach, slimming him there and broadening his chest. She spent a very long time on his chest, rounding it precisely until he had two full upturned breasts. Then she focused on his legs, trimming them and curving them to her liking. She added pretty little feet and stretched his arms out in a gesture that left Ralph wide open, as if he wanted to embrace the world.
And for the first time ever, he really did. He really did.
Comments
curiously upbeat
Hard to tell straight off, a word or two of hint might help.
A strange fable of existential reincarnation in inanimate form, which probably means it isn't existential but I'm not sure what it is then. It reminds me in some ways of stories of people changed into things, statues or whatever, that usually make me sad or angry. This one for some reason almost makes me smile, which is very silly. But there ya go. Odd introduction to BC but hey, nice to see ya. Gotta love those earnest art students eh.
Kristina
Hi and thanks for your
Hi and thanks for your thoughtful comments!
>Hard to tell straight off, a word or two of hint might help.
I guess you are suggesting that I could give a hint that the story will be upbeat? I don't think I could have done that, because I wanted it to be a surprise.
>A strange fable of existential reincarnation in inanimate form, which probably means it isn't existential but I'm not sure what it is then.
Existentialism is not my bag. In my opinion existentialism started out as an attempt by a few highly educated men to make sure no one around them got too cheerful. Today it's a big crater in the ground where a dead horse used to be.
I wrote this story two years ago when I was in very very sad mood and I wanted to cheer myself up while at the same time sorting through the stuff that was floating through my mind. I was marveling at how life can be both unimaginably sweet and filled with heartbreak at the same instant.
>It reminds me in some ways of stories of people changed into things, statues or whatever, that usually make me sad or angry. This one for some reason almost makes me smile, which is very silly. But there ya go.
I'm glad it made you smile. Yeah, I don't really like those stories either, they are too creepy for me. But I guess the only difference is, the character's reaction to his transformation. Instead of the typical "oh the horror the horror i've been magically transformed into a dress shield!!!11" Ralph is sort of okay with the idea of being a block of clay. To him it's no more inappropriate than having a human male body. I guess that IS existential in a way, but hopefully it's a few steps away from the rim of that crater.
>Odd introduction to BC but hey, nice to see ya.
At least it wasn't a typical introduction ... I'd never live that down. ;)
not typical
Which is cool and it never hurts to try something different. As for existentialism, well I had to check the dictionary first to make sure I was using it appropriately, there's more in the idea than is often taken to be.
As for the few words... well I was thinking something like, 'Existence can be me or less than we think, there's always another view.' or 'Reincarnation goes back to the basics.' I dunno, I just like a little tease to things, not a give away though.
Anyway, it's all good and you have nothing to live down, it was sorta fun in an odd way.
Kristina
Oh now I get it ... instead
Oh now I get it ... instead of just having the block of clay, to actually put a few words in there on the first page? LOL, yeah, that would probably be smart ... thanks.
Weirdly nice
Hi WingedGiselle,
A strange combination of 'fondest wish fulfilled' and frustration. I suspected the female figurine quite early, I'm not sure why. The suspicion didn't detract from the story one bit. Nicely spun tale.
Thank you for posting.
with love,
Hope
with love,
Hope
Once in a while I bare my soul, more often my soles bear me.
Hope, Glad you liked it and
Hope,
Glad you liked it and thanks for your comment :)
Very Sweet and Cute
I'm looking for nominations for the Terry Awards and I think I just found one. :)
I love this little story. It's very creative and cute. :)
Thanks.
- Terry
quirky nice, Twilight Zone meets Grim Brothers Fairy Tales
An odd little story but sweet and inventive.
I guess if you F**k-up bigtime in a karmic way you start over as an inanmate object then back up the chain of life towards perfection? Hum? I'm confused.
A welcome New Year's treat.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
>I guess if you F**k-up
>I guess if you F**k-up bigtime in a karmic way you start over as an inanmate object then back up the chain of life towards perfection? Hum? I'm confused.
Either that or he's in heaven.
Awesome! I'm bowled over!
>I'm looking for nominations for the Terry Awards and I think I just found one. :)
Awesome! I'm bowled over! And honored!
Galatea
I believe that artists and potters frequently refer to "what the clay wants to be," so perhaps this isn't that unlikely a scenario.
Agreed! And I'm pleased to
Agreed! And I'm pleased to report that the piece of paper I wrote this story on is quite satisfied.