| Fiction, Ltd. Story #100 | explanation and main page |
To bind a spirit, first count its teeth. Circle it that many times with ribbons or dental floss. You may want to give it a nickname, something overly familiar. Take pictures of it and let it chew them up. Upon digest- ing its own image it will begin to drum its fingers. Now you should leave. Nothing will happen for a very long time. To implore the sun for favors, first fill a bin with ordure. Your neighbors may have some they are not using. Damp the scent in every way you can, including perfumes, ventilation, or trickery. Assemble lazy friends to guard it; once they start to shirk their duty, the sun will make off with the bin. There is very little the sun can do for you, but you are now free to ask. To see inside the earth, first learn to sleep twice at once. If you do it enough you will awaken at times other people are skeptical about, such as ¼ o'clock and 7%AM. At these times the sun is so bright that the ground is translucent. While your friends narrow their eyes and make sarcastic remarks, you can examine everything that has been buried. Be careful of the sound that clocks make. To last through an ordeal, first assemble wood, gold, and viscera. Drag each of them behind you in a small bag. Odds are that you will meet some- one doing the same. To distill willful fluids, first carve some of your possessions into needles. You may brandish these for emphasis while speaking, but do not point them directly at anyone's eye. A selection of dessert syrups may be useful for modelling to your distillable fluids the behavior that you expect from them, especially syrups with floral ingredients, such as orgeat or lily-savor. Protect your distillation apparatus from wolves. To travel unnoticed, first thank your house. Praise each wall for its individual virtues and the house for having trained them all in coopera- tion. Then reckon up the objects you saw underground and take on each of their identities in turn as your make your way. If caught, you will find that a sequence of odors leads you back to freedom and anonymity. To find a spouse, first paint yourself blue. If you cannot reach some parts, the sun may grudgingly agree to help, particularly at night when it considers itself most noble. This is also a good time to call upon any physical travesties that you are able to manifest, such as odyle, orgone, quintessence, the will, or ether. Detection of the spouse can be left up to mechanical instruments, but once it is found you should greet it warmly and speak to it fluently. To free a spirit, first groom it in a modern style. Place a bowl on its head and cut its hair quickly, without stopping. You may find that you have forgotten its nickname and would rather hear from it by occasional postcard than keep it where it is. To repair a broken apparatus, first stand well away from it. Write ten words on a scrap of paper and place it under your tongue. From a distance whisper the words to your apparatus in order. Never worry that you have mistaken one apparatus for another; each hears just what it should, and is certainly happy to see you. written for Nina, known as nne, in Cambridge, MA 11/9/08Nina's words: odor, order, ordure, ordeal, orgone, orgeat.
I knew when writing it that this would be the last story in the project's original incarnation. I'd been wanting to use the ½/¼ key on my typewriter ever since I noticed it way back at the beginning, so that alone provided a sort of closure.
I've lamented before that most people, when told to pick "five to ten words", will not even consider choosing less than ten. But when it came time to summarize the project, there I was, saying "ten words".
Thanks to everyone who read, commented or requested.
- everything is by Aaron Mandel; please ask first if you're about to steal
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