Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Monday January 7th, 2019
The exercise: I need to get this week organized, clearly. Anyway. For now, the (slightly later than intended) prompt is to write about: the rhinoceros.
Well, don't think I couldn't conjure up a rhinoceros in Carcosa, but I feel it would stretch the storyline a lot to accommodate it. So we'll fit it in somewhere more appropriate instead. Were you inspired by Ionescu's Rhinoceros then, or something kid-related?
Rhinoceros Commander Gatti's wife was hunched with her arms squashed against her sides and her face looking as though it had been flattened by something heavy. Her nose was pushed over to one side and too broad, and her teeth pointed inwards, puckering her mouth. Her hands flapped wildly, almost spastically, and her legs, splayed at the knees, gave her an oddly crab-like gait. She wailed, a rising and falling howl. "Sounds like a rhinoceros in heat," said Ben, adjusting his tie. Bill looked at him. "How do you kn-- oh, I remember. Grace. You dated her for a month or so." "She was not a rhinoceros!" "She had a horn. And she was grey. And... hefty." "Mrs. Gatti is pretty grey." They both looked at the Commander's wife who had stopped and was staring at them, her dead gaze flicking from one to the other as though wondering why they weren't running. "No horn though." "Shut up." Mrs. Gatti lunged forwards, finally pulling her arms free of some waxy substance that might once have been body-fat that was holding them against her sides. She growled, a throaty, reverberant sound that rolled around the inside of the jungle yacht like thunder, and leapt at Bill's head. There was a noise like a ripe melon splitting open, and the machete went cleanly through her face, her skull, and out the back of her head. Her whole body writhed for a moment, impaled on the knife, and them went still. "Help me pull her off," said Ben, lowering the knife. "She weighs next to nothing, you know. She must have been hiding in the fridge waiting for a meal to come along." "Not as hefty as Grace then," said Bill. "She was not a rhinoceros!" They pulled the corpse off the knife, with Bill taking fastidious care not to stain or mark his suit, and then, for want of somewhere else to leave him, settled her into Commander Gatti's lap. Ben tapped her head. "Mostly hollow," he said. "And keep your comparison's to yourself. It like whatever changed her ate her from the inside out." "What I don't understand," said Bill, looking around, "is why the door was locked. Couldn't she have eaten snakes, or birds, or... rhinoceroses?" "Maybe the Commander locked the door after he realised she'd changed?" "Locked himself in with her?" The two men looked at the doors that lead into the rest of the jungle yacht. "I guess there's something else hiding in there as well then," said Ben. "Can we just set fire to this thing and pick up our... requirements after it's finished burning?" "We're after two maps and a book," said Bill. "Do you think the Commander was odd enough to have had them printed on asbestos?" Ben sighed. "Or rhinoceros skin," said Bill innocently.
Ah, wasn't thinking this prompt would go so well with the image prompt. Glad you didn't miss the opportunity to continue your tale! I shall have to find something suitable for you to carry this onward a little further :)
2 comments:
Well, don't think I couldn't conjure up a rhinoceros in Carcosa, but I feel it would stretch the storyline a lot to accommodate it. So we'll fit it in somewhere more appropriate instead. Were you inspired by Ionescu's Rhinoceros then, or something kid-related?
Rhinoceros
Commander Gatti's wife was hunched with her arms squashed against her sides and her face looking as though it had been flattened by something heavy. Her nose was pushed over to one side and too broad, and her teeth pointed inwards, puckering her mouth. Her hands flapped wildly, almost spastically, and her legs, splayed at the knees, gave her an oddly crab-like gait. She wailed, a rising and falling howl.
"Sounds like a rhinoceros in heat," said Ben, adjusting his tie.
Bill looked at him. "How do you kn-- oh, I remember. Grace. You dated her for a month or so."
"She was not a rhinoceros!"
"She had a horn. And she was grey. And... hefty."
"Mrs. Gatti is pretty grey."
They both looked at the Commander's wife who had stopped and was staring at them, her dead gaze flicking from one to the other as though wondering why they weren't running.
"No horn though."
"Shut up."
Mrs. Gatti lunged forwards, finally pulling her arms free of some waxy substance that might once have been body-fat that was holding them against her sides. She growled, a throaty, reverberant sound that rolled around the inside of the jungle yacht like thunder, and leapt at Bill's head.
There was a noise like a ripe melon splitting open, and the machete went cleanly through her face, her skull, and out the back of her head. Her whole body writhed for a moment, impaled on the knife, and them went still.
"Help me pull her off," said Ben, lowering the knife. "She weighs next to nothing, you know. She must have been hiding in the fridge waiting for a meal to come along."
"Not as hefty as Grace then," said Bill.
"She was not a rhinoceros!"
They pulled the corpse off the knife, with Bill taking fastidious care not to stain or mark his suit, and then, for want of somewhere else to leave him, settled her into Commander Gatti's lap. Ben tapped her head.
"Mostly hollow," he said. "And keep your comparison's to yourself. It like whatever changed her ate her from the inside out."
"What I don't understand," said Bill, looking around, "is why the door was locked. Couldn't she have eaten snakes, or birds, or... rhinoceroses?"
"Maybe the Commander locked the door after he realised she'd changed?"
"Locked himself in with her?"
The two men looked at the doors that lead into the rest of the jungle yacht. "I guess there's something else hiding in there as well then," said Ben. "Can we just set fire to this thing and pick up our... requirements after it's finished burning?"
"We're after two maps and a book," said Bill. "Do you think the Commander was odd enough to have had them printed on asbestos?"
Ben sighed.
"Or rhinoceros skin," said Bill innocently.
Greg - pretty sure this one was the kids' fault.
Ah, wasn't thinking this prompt would go so well with the image prompt. Glad you didn't miss the opportunity to continue your tale! I shall have to find something suitable for you to carry this onward a little further :)
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