PoeknowsProse
04-29-2009, 04:58 PM
Hey everyone,
This is one of many drafts of a short story I'm working on. I would really appreciate some honest feedback. Thank you.
Enclosure
The last thing he remembered was lying in bed beside his wife. Now, two giant turtles stood to his right. Robert strained his neck to look up at them. The larger of the two was mounted on the back of the other and every few seconds their shells knocked together.
Robert turned and ran into the glass wall.
He peeled his face from the glass and blinked. He couldn’t make out anything in the darkness in front of him. Stepping back, he saw his reflection in the glass; a turtle, screaming, black tongue pointing straight out.
The reflection stared at him: yellow spots on a dark green forehead, with white and red lines on each side of his leathery face. His shell was a mix of green and brown, with parallel ridges running along the top and sides. He had a tail. He flicked it and rotated around, trying to catch a glimpse of it while stomping his stumpy feet. He looked around and realized he was in a tank. The interior was sparse. There was the occasional shrub, a pool of water in the distance, a log up ahead. The ground was covered in black and white pebbles.
He walked toward the log and saw it was hollow. Moss hugged its exterior. Halfway there he stopped, cold and bewildered. He tucked his limbs into the shell, but it wasn’t as warm as he thought it would be.
Beyond the log the ground tapered downward where the pool of water formed. Repressing the sick feeling in his stomach, he stood and marched forward. He veered right, towards the log, and peered inside. It was murky and the air was stale. Too dark to see any detail. A blow sent him skidding backwards. An enormous turtle emerged from the log. It feigned forward, kicked back a few pebbles, and then backed into the hollow. Robert sat still until he was sure it wouldn’t come back out. When he thought it was safe he continued forward, staying clear of the log.
A pool of clear water ran across the length of the glass and extended out a foot. He walked down into the pool to test its depth, dipping his left leg in and poking down until he felt bottom. He submerged himself and paddled, a bird beating its wings for the first time. Underwater swam another turtle observing him, the trespasser. The distorted face was cold, lifeless. He kicked hard and swam around it cautiously, like one might navigate around a mine.
He surfaced. This side was just like the other. He charged the glass and rammed it with his shell. His feet slid as he pressed against it. He turned and charged the other side, only to bounce off. Robert continued this until he collapsed. His stoic reflection mocked him. He stared out from the tank, but it was too dark, like looking out into space and trying to see beyond the stars – just vast emptiness.
He wandered aimlessly, looking down at the black and white colored pebble ground. He grabbed a white one with his mouth and set it down beside another white one. He did it again so they made a line. Minutes later, he had formed an H. Pleased, he tucked his limbs into his shell. After working for an hour, he spelled HELP on the ground.
He stood in front of the pool of water and stared down at his reflection. It was always the same. The same log, same reflection, same pebbles. If he could escape he didn’t know where he would go. For all he knew his enclosure was suspended by a string in the center of black room. He noticed a shell poking out of the water felt a pang. He stepped into the water and swam toward the other turtle.
***
The two turtles repeated their weekly coupling, and despite himself he felt jealous. It did give him a chance to see inside of the log, though. Somehow he knew the answers were inside of it. Why else would the male turtle guard it so fiercely? He waddled to the entrance. His tiny heart thumped. He peered in –
The male turtle charged like a rhino. Their shells slammed together and Robert flew back. The turtle kept on him, knocking into his side and flipping Robert over. Satisfied, the giant turtle skulked back into the log.
Robert saw a white light, the kind dying people claimed to see. He reached up, but couldn’t get to it. His legs kicked, the light seemingly out of reach; Robert lay on his shell, staring at the light that lit the tank. He wiggled frantically and rocked back and forth, tilting his body and flicking his tail. His mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish out of water, and he made a strange, distressed sound. The female turtle examined him in passing on her way to the pool. He strained to touch her, but she did not bother to look back. Finally, his struggling formed a dent in the pebbles, and he tilted to one side and dug until he had enough room to flip over and retreat.
Time did not seem to exist in the tank, though he knew it passed. His will to fight his circumstances waned, and finally he came to a decision. He stood and passed the log one last time. Whatever was in it didn’t matter anymore. At the pool, he stepped into the tepid water and sank to the bottom. He waited, fighting the urge to surface until everything went dark.
The female turtle stood over him, long face peering down. When she saw he was conscious she submerged back into the water. Robert stormed to the pool, moving in that slow, exaggerated way turtles do, but she fended him off. When he went left, she went left – he went right, she went right. Dejected, he turned and attacked a plant, tearing and pulling the root, jerking his head side to side until it ripped from the ground. He stomped on it until it was pulp. Robert then flung himself at the HELP message and kicked it into an illegible mess.
***
Since his last attempt to enter the log the male turtle was like a sentry stationed outside of it. Robert always felt the brooding face watching him – surly attitude palpable, a toxin in the air. Sometimes when Robert slept, he woke with a jolt, certain that the turtle was creeping up on him. It had to end. He would wait until the turtles knocked shells again, and then make his move. If only he was still a man. He would set the turtle beneath his truck’s wheel and back right over him – squish – dead – road kill.
But he was not a man.
And then an enormous hand reached into the tank and plucked the male turtle from the log.
He’s there.
Blink.
He’s gone.
Robert stared at the log. He looked at the female turtle, resting in the pool, chewing a shrub, apathetic.
He walked toward the log, slow at first, then at a full turtle-gallop. When he took the first step inside its darkness smothered him, but he circled around and ran to one end and back. He spun, then dropped to his belly, laughing.
But now he looked closer. The interior was bare. It was a hollow log. He scoured the ground, sniffing faster the longer he searched. He examined every bump and curve until the tip of his nose bumped the back of the log. Nothing there.
He turned and saw a light at the entrance. He stepped toward it. Just maybe. He ran into the light. For a moment it engulfed him, but then his eyes adjusted. He was still inside the tank.
This is one of many drafts of a short story I'm working on. I would really appreciate some honest feedback. Thank you.
Enclosure
The last thing he remembered was lying in bed beside his wife. Now, two giant turtles stood to his right. Robert strained his neck to look up at them. The larger of the two was mounted on the back of the other and every few seconds their shells knocked together.
Robert turned and ran into the glass wall.
He peeled his face from the glass and blinked. He couldn’t make out anything in the darkness in front of him. Stepping back, he saw his reflection in the glass; a turtle, screaming, black tongue pointing straight out.
The reflection stared at him: yellow spots on a dark green forehead, with white and red lines on each side of his leathery face. His shell was a mix of green and brown, with parallel ridges running along the top and sides. He had a tail. He flicked it and rotated around, trying to catch a glimpse of it while stomping his stumpy feet. He looked around and realized he was in a tank. The interior was sparse. There was the occasional shrub, a pool of water in the distance, a log up ahead. The ground was covered in black and white pebbles.
He walked toward the log and saw it was hollow. Moss hugged its exterior. Halfway there he stopped, cold and bewildered. He tucked his limbs into the shell, but it wasn’t as warm as he thought it would be.
Beyond the log the ground tapered downward where the pool of water formed. Repressing the sick feeling in his stomach, he stood and marched forward. He veered right, towards the log, and peered inside. It was murky and the air was stale. Too dark to see any detail. A blow sent him skidding backwards. An enormous turtle emerged from the log. It feigned forward, kicked back a few pebbles, and then backed into the hollow. Robert sat still until he was sure it wouldn’t come back out. When he thought it was safe he continued forward, staying clear of the log.
A pool of clear water ran across the length of the glass and extended out a foot. He walked down into the pool to test its depth, dipping his left leg in and poking down until he felt bottom. He submerged himself and paddled, a bird beating its wings for the first time. Underwater swam another turtle observing him, the trespasser. The distorted face was cold, lifeless. He kicked hard and swam around it cautiously, like one might navigate around a mine.
He surfaced. This side was just like the other. He charged the glass and rammed it with his shell. His feet slid as he pressed against it. He turned and charged the other side, only to bounce off. Robert continued this until he collapsed. His stoic reflection mocked him. He stared out from the tank, but it was too dark, like looking out into space and trying to see beyond the stars – just vast emptiness.
He wandered aimlessly, looking down at the black and white colored pebble ground. He grabbed a white one with his mouth and set it down beside another white one. He did it again so they made a line. Minutes later, he had formed an H. Pleased, he tucked his limbs into his shell. After working for an hour, he spelled HELP on the ground.
He stood in front of the pool of water and stared down at his reflection. It was always the same. The same log, same reflection, same pebbles. If he could escape he didn’t know where he would go. For all he knew his enclosure was suspended by a string in the center of black room. He noticed a shell poking out of the water felt a pang. He stepped into the water and swam toward the other turtle.
***
The two turtles repeated their weekly coupling, and despite himself he felt jealous. It did give him a chance to see inside of the log, though. Somehow he knew the answers were inside of it. Why else would the male turtle guard it so fiercely? He waddled to the entrance. His tiny heart thumped. He peered in –
The male turtle charged like a rhino. Their shells slammed together and Robert flew back. The turtle kept on him, knocking into his side and flipping Robert over. Satisfied, the giant turtle skulked back into the log.
Robert saw a white light, the kind dying people claimed to see. He reached up, but couldn’t get to it. His legs kicked, the light seemingly out of reach; Robert lay on his shell, staring at the light that lit the tank. He wiggled frantically and rocked back and forth, tilting his body and flicking his tail. His mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish out of water, and he made a strange, distressed sound. The female turtle examined him in passing on her way to the pool. He strained to touch her, but she did not bother to look back. Finally, his struggling formed a dent in the pebbles, and he tilted to one side and dug until he had enough room to flip over and retreat.
Time did not seem to exist in the tank, though he knew it passed. His will to fight his circumstances waned, and finally he came to a decision. He stood and passed the log one last time. Whatever was in it didn’t matter anymore. At the pool, he stepped into the tepid water and sank to the bottom. He waited, fighting the urge to surface until everything went dark.
The female turtle stood over him, long face peering down. When she saw he was conscious she submerged back into the water. Robert stormed to the pool, moving in that slow, exaggerated way turtles do, but she fended him off. When he went left, she went left – he went right, she went right. Dejected, he turned and attacked a plant, tearing and pulling the root, jerking his head side to side until it ripped from the ground. He stomped on it until it was pulp. Robert then flung himself at the HELP message and kicked it into an illegible mess.
***
Since his last attempt to enter the log the male turtle was like a sentry stationed outside of it. Robert always felt the brooding face watching him – surly attitude palpable, a toxin in the air. Sometimes when Robert slept, he woke with a jolt, certain that the turtle was creeping up on him. It had to end. He would wait until the turtles knocked shells again, and then make his move. If only he was still a man. He would set the turtle beneath his truck’s wheel and back right over him – squish – dead – road kill.
But he was not a man.
And then an enormous hand reached into the tank and plucked the male turtle from the log.
He’s there.
Blink.
He’s gone.
Robert stared at the log. He looked at the female turtle, resting in the pool, chewing a shrub, apathetic.
He walked toward the log, slow at first, then at a full turtle-gallop. When he took the first step inside its darkness smothered him, but he circled around and ran to one end and back. He spun, then dropped to his belly, laughing.
But now he looked closer. The interior was bare. It was a hollow log. He scoured the ground, sniffing faster the longer he searched. He examined every bump and curve until the tip of his nose bumped the back of the log. Nothing there.
He turned and saw a light at the entrance. He stepped toward it. Just maybe. He ran into the light. For a moment it engulfed him, but then his eyes adjusted. He was still inside the tank.