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    dots Submission Name: Fabledots

    Author: rws
    ASL Info:    58/m/ohio
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 2788/1297/258
    Words: 555
    Class/Type: Prose/Misc
    Total Views: 1062
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 3592

       ~slip out of your skin and become someone else or the skin will define who you are~

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    Once upon a time there lived a poet named Renaldo. He enjoyed composing stories and poems to entertain friends, although very few people could grasp the oddities he wrote.

    "Renaldo," they would say. "You have a wondrous grasp of languge, for your words flow like sweet waters from an everlasting stream."

    "But, Renaldo," they continued with shrugs of resignation, "as lovely as this seems to the senses we cannot understand it. Pray tell us, what do your silly phrases mean?"

    "What do they mean?" Renaldo replied, befuddled. "The meaning's as plain as peasant food."

    "For you perhaps. For us it's a mystery that causes our eyes to cross. You write riddles, Renaldo."

    "Write something simpler and we'll listen," they added as they left.

    Renaldo thought a very long time about what the villagers had said. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps poems should be plain and songs should sing themselves. Perhaps...

    So Renaldo shed the guise of the poet he once was, and despite sleepless nights and a hill of crumpled paper, he codified his thoughts and became wealthy as a king.

    Then all his friends were thrilled, for the magic of his words now required little labor to be fully understood.

    And the walls of his domain glittered like the hidden jewels his mind had once conceived when his visions had been dreams.

    Life was fat and easy.

    But Renaldo wasn't happy and nothing could appease him. His new status left him empty and his challenges were few. What was wonderful was hollow as his castle's unused rooms or his many statuettes.

    So he sought the sage advice of a mentor in the mountains who babbled quite a lot and ocassionally made sense.

    The old man listened quietly as Renaldo detailed his dilemma, pausing to mumble words as odd as those Renaldo used to write.

    "My God, write what's in front of you!" The old man finally shouted. "I say screw the critics! Else logic's just a lovely bird that sings a fetid song."

    "'Do your best to be yourself,' That's what I would have answered, if you had had the sense to ask the second question first."

    Renaldo thanked the hermit for this bitter admonition that a dozen others echoed on at least as many mountains.

    "Perhaps it's time," he said, "to truly be immortal. After all the man is measured by his very last pen stroke."

    So he sadly scaled the stairs of the vast estate he'd founded; unable to choose between his comforts and his literary soul.

    He leapt into the darkness toward an unforseen conclusion, and caromed like a bullet off a group of men below.

    "How fortunate to have landed on such a worthy group of tourists," he said of the friends who'd tried to change him long ago.

    Slipping his credentials into the pocket of the nearest, he allowed the world to mourn his passing as he disappeared into the darkness and became another man.

    Buoyed by the broken bodies that had broken his fall, Renaldo melted into the mists of obscurity to become a legendary poet and a somewhat better writer.

    And the dead lived happily ever after.


    Submitted on 2006-11-21 18:40:17     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Thank you ever so much for your comments on my poems--I revised "I saved a life" according to your suggestions, and I like it very much more, now. And yes, I have considered publishing! I started a publication of my own at my school. Anyway.

    I thought that this had an outstanding message until it got to the part where he went back to his estate and died--It got very confusing there. I would chop it down and leave it at the mountain, where the man tells the poet to 'write what is in front of him.' Your message, up to this point, is telling me that the simplification of things does not provoke thought, and laziness and immorality come with ease. Thought and intelligence served everyone better off before the poet gave in to the pressure of the less wise. End it with a fable-ending that sums THAT aspect of it up--it was simply too confusing near the end. The more simple the fable is, and the more meaningful layers there are, the more powerful the fable is.

    | Posted on 2007-01-07 00:00:00 | by Maevity | [ Reply to This ]

    Such a simplistic piece yet bears a truly profound message to all literary writers.

    We seldom write what we feel because we usually seek to please our extremely harsh critics.

    The fable, although a reality, was reeling and thought provoking.

    Renaldo lost himself in finding out who he really was..... Do I make any sense at all? I think Renaldo is rubbing off on me now. LOL.

    I have truly enjoyed...as always you have a natural way with words and expression...so meticulous.

    | Posted on 2006-12-31 00:00:00 | by CaramelCandy | [ Reply to This ]
      Such a great piece, I don't feel like I can critique it. I just wanted to say that I enjoyed it very much. Refreshing and original! I'm favorite-izing this. :)
    | Posted on 2006-12-30 00:00:00 | by pick a locke | [ Reply to This ]
      What I pick up from this peice is a strong sense of outward perseption vs. inward reflection. The outside crique & the inward seeker.

    The way this "poet" journey's into the far away mountains to consult the sage describes the inward journey of the poet to find "answers" to the "why". But still, the sage is also an outside source for his answer sought.

    Which brings him to his own conclusion of eternal demise as he plumets from everything in life he had build for himself (the word "sadly" emphisizes it's tragedy - otherwise this part would have dual meaning). I sense confusion and chaos in the midst of this moment.

    And I suppose to truly be a "legend" you would need to be dead.

    Nice work.

    | Posted on 2006-11-25 00:00:00 | by vohomegirl | [ Reply to This ]
      such wanderful words that you have put together. coherency is the last thing we see. like a pebble in my pocket. what ever happened to sweet irony? i like the part where he squishes the tourists.
    | Posted on 2006-11-22 00:00:00 | by disillusion | [ Reply to This ]
      and the dead lived happily every after

    This has to be one of my favorite lines of yours. And this is a fun story too, I love how the protagonist leaps out of the window, what a way to become your own super hero!

    Its a fun story Bill and one I needed to hear right now. I'm in the process of engaging in some writing projects and first off, they need to be fun and fulfilling. If I ever have to say about something in print that's mine like I'm sorry I wrote this the shame will be overwhelming, no doubt.

    Thanks for keeping me on the curved and vivacious my friend, it's a cool story and I enjoyed taking a look.

    *sings, "I love you just the way you are" sniff,sniff*


    | Posted on 2006-11-21 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]

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