The List, #071: The True You

(These do not need to be read in any order; they are unrelated!)

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I dreamed that in this city painted in grey on the highest points of the buildings there are gargoyles with hands for wings. They scream their rage at not being free and it’s all I can do not to break the hands that hold them.

~

On Friday evenings there’s always a crowd of people around him. Typically, police broke up groups larger than fifteen. For whatever reason, though, they left him alone.

He tells stories and parables to the larger crowds. If the crowd is smaller, he’ll tell fortunes. Everyone wants his fortunes because they’re always true. It’s the reason I’ve never asked him for one. Except for Today.

Today I ask him to tell my fortune.

~

There’s a boy who lives on the streets. He’s tall and thin and lanky, and when he smiles it says that he’s done something delightfully wicked.

People also say he’s a prophet.

And others say that he's the son of the devil.

~

He slips into the crowds on weekdays—becomes just another kid on the streets. He has no regular spot where he sits to give audience; I have to find him if I want my fortune told.

I find him sitting in an abandoned bit of the city, in a fountain that still miraculously works. He’s cross-legged under the spray, hands folded in his lap. His eyes are closed against the water, but when he hears my footsteps on the pavement he opens them.

My wish floats across the empty space between us and lands in his folded hands. I find that I can’t breathe.

“All you will do is run after a mirage,” he says, and he smiles gently.

~

I heard someone say once that his name was Nathaniel. Others would crack evil grins and say, “nah, it’s Damien.”

General opinion on the streets and in the city was that he didn’t have a name.

All lies, of course. His name was Jeremiah.

I know this because I asked him.

~

It was a month before I got the courage to see him after he gave me my fortune.

He greeted me as the Mirage Chaser and I couldn’t help but smile.

He asked me to sit beside him on the broken stone wall and tell him a secret.

I leaned in close and told him that I didn’t believe in the fortune he’d given me.

~
My disbelief didn’t faze him. He said that belief wasn’t necessary.

Things tend to happen, whether you believe in them or not.

~
These hands that cradle me and hold me and rip me with their broken fingernails. They hurt and they are hurt. They look for someone to hold.

But I don’t think that someone is me.

~

Time doesn’t exist in this city.

~

The dreams I have at night are frightening.

A boy with hands growing out of his back, grasping and grabbing, ripping and tearing.

Jeremiah believes in dreams. He says that they are reflections of what we want, our deepest desires. He says that they show us the things we can’t see.

~

In the early morning, the city is painted a dark grey and he waits for me on the corner. His eyes are bloodshot and calm and the hands are ripping through his shirt. And in the pit of my stomach I feel the terror.

I wake in my bed moments later. The city is painted a dark grey, and Jeremiah waits for me on the corner. His eyes are smiling and pleasant and the wrinkles in his clothing are still.

But when he offers it, I still don’t take his hand.

~

He waits for me outside my apartment building sometimes.

I look out my window and see him. He perches on the stone wall on the other side of the street like a stone gargoyle and tells stories to the children. They giggle and gasp and when the hands burst from his back they clap.

The mirage is slowing down. It’s coming at me instead of me running toward it.

I watch from my window, and he looks up at me and smiles.

I notice now that when he smiles at me, his teeth are cracked.

~

The police always left Jeremiah alone. I think they know that he owns this city more than they do.

~

In my dreams the hands lie broken and twisted on the ground and he weeps over their mangled fingers.

~

Jeremiah told me that he lied about my fortune. I won’t run after the mirage. The mirage will run after me.

~

Jeremiah believes in dreams.

But I don’t.

~

It’s time to wake up.

----

So...I know that this is a little weird. And I'm not entirely decided on whether or not it's worth saving. But I kinda like it. Have at it!

I love it! It's simple yet deep; just the way I like stories. I really was able to get to know the characters. Although I was a little confused on why you added the dashes in between each phrase. But the whole only giving bits and parts added to the story and gave the characters more mystery.

I would really like to hear more about what happened between these two and why you titled it the way you did. And more detail and more to the story would also be nice. Why did he tell her she was chasing after a mirage? Did it have something to do with him? That's what I figured but I wasn't sure.

Keep writing!

I loved how this sort of jumped and skipped its way through. The little snatches were more powerful than a big long paragraph waxing poetic would have been.

I like it as is, but I also sort of want more, to find out what exactly is going to happen with these characters. But it works on its own, with that sort of dream-like quality.

I look out my window and see him. He perches on the stone wall on the other side of the street like a stone gargoyle and tells stories to the children. They giggle and gasp and when the hands burst from his back they clap.

Favorite bit right here.

watch from my window, and he looks up at me and smiles.

~ (<---)

I notice now that when he smiles at me, his teeth are cracked.

That squiggly there doesn't feel necessary. The two thoughts feel connected enough in the strange logic of the piece that that particular divider seemed almost out of place. Just my two cents though.

I can sort of see this being written as a comic book or some sort of illustrated book, with each little bit between the squigglies being its own page with a picture. Really nice, really thoughtful, without being too artsy-fartsy.

~GryphonFledgling

SACHI! I loves you! And I also love this story. No lie!

I love the simplicity of this. It gives a dreamy effect which is completely appropriate for this piece. I'm extremely pleased with how well that works. And I was able to make theories by drawing connections between Jeremiah and the gargoyles and the dreams and the police and just -- ah! I reread this two or three times, and every time I finished, I understood much better and was much happier.

Also, the name Jeremiah is tremendously appropriate for this. Another connection that just made me squee with delight.

I dreamed that in this city painted in grey on the highest points of the buildings there are gargoyles with hands for wings. They scream their rage at not being free and it’s all I can do not to break the hands that hold them.

This is really my only nitpick! I felt this was too new of a note to make for the end. Perhaps mention the gargoyles earlier than this at least one other time. It seemed too new of information to end the story soon after. That's just me though!

This made me really happy though. You deserve to be proud of this piece! I don't always get these kinds of exciting shivers when I read a short story, but it's why I read them. So I daresay: Bravo!

Keep writing!

Jabber, the One and Only!

I would love to give you some indepth review right about now, but I'm still trying to figure out what you said; don't change that. Seriously, I'm going to be trying to figure out all the mini meanings all week (even if none actually exist). Insane job. *clicks follow button*

-Bee

Chiko!

Wow, why haven't I read your stuff before? Or have I? If I have, it must have been quite a long time ago. I think you're a really good writer!

At first I thought that the vast usage of the one-lined paragraphs would feel excessive, but it didn't. It fit in this story very well and I found myself enjoying it, although I usually always find it kind of choppy and annoying. I guess it depends a lot on the wording, too.

I'm not sure if all the squiggly lines are necessary? Some of them were a bit like, hmm, why is that there.

There are a lot paragraphs that I really liked, for example this one:

I heard someone say once that his name was Nathaniel. Others would crack evil grins and say, “nah, it’s Damien.”

General opinion on the streets and in the city was that he didn’t have a name.

All lies, of course. His name was Jeremiah.

I know this because I asked him.

I don't know why I like it so much. I don't know if I should even know exactly why. You're just so good! There were some bits that made me readerishly very satisfied (???) in the same way as this one. I have no idea what I'm saying, but just know that it's supposed to be a compliment.

I should read more Chiko.


Demeter
x

p.s. I'm not sure if I forgot to say something, because my internet glitched for a while and I lost half of what I had written, but I think I managed to remember what I wanted to say. If not, I'll come back!

This is madness. It's crazy. IT'S SO GOOD! I absolutely love it. It's deep and dark and scary and soooo good! I don't know what it is about it that I love. Actually I do know. It's everything about it. Never change anything and yes, keep it. If you're not keeping it, give it to me because it's crazy good.