The third section is begun!

Here's the third and final section of my story. Well, the first paragraph thereof:

And Then.

I live with my mother in a rust-red, brickcrumbling house. Or, rather, she lives with me—better: resides. Rests, better still. Down beneath the damp basement floorboards she lies prostrate, engulfed in moist earth. Stiffened by death, in the sense that her body has long since ceased to function, she sleeps: wooden. All around her the worms are stirring the dirt, wriggling past her. Dead, under the rotting floor, she decomposes; in life she had decomposed over the floor. Little difference—both were unwanted. And unwitting. She hadn’t much enjoyed life anyhow. Except for her children. Oh, she had many, many children, nursed each and every one at her breast, loved them, spoke to them as they suckled. Mother. A child’s first love, a child’s first sustenance, a child’s first words. Gravitating to her teat, blind, mute infants opened and closed toothless mouths, gumming for their mother’s milk, but no longer.

Now only I remain, my brothers and sisters lying with our mother. I must remain here, in her house—in our house. I’ve left before. Left my mother, left her house. Never for a long time of course. Only briefly, in short spurts, and I kept in contact, writing letters. But now I stay here, to preserve their memory. Trichinosis took them all; parasites fed on their innards, glutting themselves on ignorance, and they ceased, my family. They stopped speaking, though they had never really spoken—to me, to each other—they died in silence. They fell; down into the muck they collapsed, mud oozing over their bodies. And so I placed the boards over them. Concrete would have been a travesty.

Now, always back to now, the house of my mother is empty, save me. Here I mind their graves and talk to them. Yes, I’m always speaking—to them, to myself. I’ve spilled water all over the floor. Dirty water, caking dust-mud all over the kitchen tiles. It was clean when it was in my little glass jar. Sparkling, clear water, I held it in my hand—watched it ripple and shimmer. Then it slipped and fell to the ground, marblelinoleumfloorshattering…

Cool stuff, Jolly. I have one question: what do you mean by "both were unwanted?" Are you referring to both Thomas and his mother, or the worms and his mother? Or is it something to do with the process of decomposition that I'm missing completely?

By the way, the whole bit about his dead mother suckling the worms is friggin' creepy. Very very nice use of words.

Originally Posted by: earthman buckCool stuff, Jolly. I have one question: what do you mean by "both were unwanted?" Are you referring to both Thomas and his mother, or the worms and his mother? Or is it something to do with the process of decomposition that I'm missing completely?

By the way, the whole bit about his dead mother suckling the worms is friggin' creepy. Very very nice use of words.

It's referring to the decomposition.

The worms actually aren't suckling there, it's the children in a brief memory-flash. I'll change the wording there so it's not so confusing; re-reading it I can very easily see how you got that idea.

Originally Posted by: Jolly McJollysonIt's referring to the decomposition.

The words actually aren't suckling there, it's the children in a brief memory-flash. I'll change the wording there so it's not so confusing; re-reading it I can very easily see how you got that idea.

Ok, I re-read it, and it's definitely more clear. I think you should keep some sort of comparison between the children and the worms there (even if it's only a slight one), because that was really cool.

I can still see a bit of a comparison with the last line: "Gravitating to her teat, blind, mute infants opened and closed toothless mouths, gumming for their mother’s milk, but no longer," but it was a lot stronger earlier.

Originally Posted by: earthman buckOk, I re-read it, and it's definitely more clear. I think you should keep some sort of comparison between the children and the worms there (even if it's only a slight one), because that was really cool.

I can still see a bit of a comparison with the last line: "Gravitating to her teat, blind, mute infants opened and closed toothless mouths, gumming for their mother’s milk, but no longer," but it was a lot stronger earlier.

That's the thing, though, I don't think of the children as completely "worm" concepts. While they have elements of worm, I don't want them to be worm entirely.

Originally Posted by: Jolly McJollysonThat's the thing, though, I don't think of the children as completely "worm" concepts. While they have elements of worm, I don't want them to be worm entirely.

Hmmmm....well, it is your story. Go with whatever feels right, and it'll probably still kick ass. I'm gonna see the worm/child connection regardless now, so it's all good. :)

Edited with the new additions I just made. This is by far the most difficult section to write and, I think, the easiest to read. Go figure.

Pretty cool. I see some parallels with the short story "On a Wim". Are you perhaps a Michael Chikousky enthusiast? Well you certainly pulled inspiration from the right place. :)

I really do like the story though. Nothing else to say really, except...good on ya. And you are a genius of literature.

Originally Posted by: acapellaPretty cool. I see some parallels with the short story "On a Wim". Are you perhaps a Michael Chikousky enthusiast? Well you certainly pulled inspiration from the right place. :)

I really do like the story though. Nothing else to say really, except...good on ya. And you are a genius of literature.

Actually, the influence and inspiration and style of the third section are all derived from Beckett.

Fancy that.