Maybe by Stephen Hastings-King

Once we were in love. Then we disappeared.

Very slowly you fell through the floor of memory rooms that were brightly lit and entirely your own and dissipated into surrounding zones of detritus and decay, then in fragments drifted down through networks of seldom-visited structures comprised of corridors that connect nothing and stretch arbitrarily & spread yourself across a map of the sky that is outside of them became a constellation superimposed of diagrams of astral scatter or the relations and environments that absence creates, intimate but inaccessible.

I see you as you were. Once we were in love maybe.

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9 Comments

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9 responses to “Maybe by Stephen Hastings-King

  1. I like the movement in this, spiraling away with her to a forgotten zone.

  2. Len

    poetic, dreamlike. very nice.

  3. I like how the sentence sort of falls away like the characters fell through the floor. Nice.

  4. That one long jag-of-a-sentence, like a dream, or a vision, just splendid. Book-ended with speculations, wonder, the container. Masterful!

  5. stephen

    thanks much for the reads and lovely comments. i’m pleased that the piece does what i thought it does…

  6. guy

    Another data point here: I read it more or less like ganymeder did.

    There were some jagged edges in the long sentence that i would have been tempted to smooth out, but then i thought that they were kind of like bumpers on a pinball table that sent the couple spinning and separating.

  7. stephen

    thanks, comrade…

    btw i noticed a typo (my fault):

    superimposed on diagrams of astral scatter

    which smooths out that at least.
    i considered the making the surface smoother, but thought it’s edges conveyed what the words couldn’t about the fact of forgetting in this context. i thought the words themselves sort of neutral or detached. the edges made them cut a little.

  8. Lovely, just lovely. The form feels like the content, and you use two of my favorite words: detritus and astral. And this is what your story feels like — astral travel. Peace…

  9. Pingback: Week #31 – Missed the bus | 52|250 A Year of Flash

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