tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7320131690292314651.post437624621056060649..comments2024-02-13T13:54:25.645+01:00Comments on Finding Clarity: Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 239Miranda Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11166000575283710451noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7320131690292314651.post-84665748013478930402022-03-02T00:50:59.469+01:002022-03-02T00:50:59.469+01:00Intriguing. Thanks for joining. Intriguing. Thanks for joining. Miranda Katehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11166000575283710451noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7320131690292314651.post-53049414312557332372022-02-18T00:32:51.158+01:002022-02-18T00:32:51.158+01:00By Mark A Morris on FB:
“Come on,” she said, wil...By Mark A Morris on FB: <br /><br />“Come on,” she said, wild-eyed and ferocious. “I gave you exactly what you wanted. Just try to make use of it, will you?”<br />I closed my eyes and tried to feel my way forward, wishing my legs would obey me. I remembered the classic adage, ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ and wished I’d made no wishes at all. She’d left my old body where I could see it, broken open and with its innards hanging out, showing me the place I’d come from. It was also a reminder that there was no way back; I’d made a choice forever, ill-advised though it was. But how was I to know she was going to be able to make good on her offer? I should have been more careful with what I said.<br />“It’s so difficult,” I said. “I don’t know to connect with it. You can’t expect me to work it out just like that.”<br />A flywheel – my flywheel – began to spin, its clockwork creating a growling noise as it built up momentum. I felt its gears grinding as they tried to mesh, their metal teeth skipping as they sought out that sweet spot where they could engage without jamming.<br />I tried again. This time, I opened my eyes, pushing the shutters apart enough so I could see ahead. My right hand was before me, clenched into a fist that I would never be able to open. My left one was tucked behind, out of sight: I knew already it would reappear if I got the trick of walking. They would alternate – left, right, left – perfectly out of phase with my legs, my body staggering forward like a drunkard’s.<br />All I needed was to find a way of aligning myself with the mechanism. How difficult could it be? This was supposed to be child’s play, something a growing mind from five to ninety-five could do.<br />I lurched forward, my body pivoting on its front foot. The lever sticking from my back shifted its position, forcing the escapement hidden in my chest into a new relationship with the gearbox below.<br />The wooden boards in front of me began to move. My right foot appeared, monolithic and metallic, striking out at the wood and lifting me so that I hopped as it passed beneath me. My left hand provided a counterweight, maintaining my balance, the two of them together driving me forward.<br />I could do this. I was getting it. I only had to maintain the rhythm, and I would be able to run, striding forward with my eyes firing sparks as I ate up the distance.<br />And then I fell.<br />I don’t know what happened. I could only look ahead, my eyes fixed on the forward horizon, my vision tunnelled into a small cone no better than thirty degrees in diameter. One minute I was sprinting, my mainspring filled with power - the next, I was lying on my back, impotent, my gears hissing like a snake as I writhed in place, seeing nothing but the ceiling. I wished I could have my original body back as it had been before, its legs useless and lacking in power, my hands, arms and shoulders all I could use. A wheelchair was a prison - or so I’d thought - but at least I’d been more of a man then, not an overgrown child’s toy, dependent on someone using a key in my back to move me along. If this was some sort of a joke at my expense, it was a cruel one. I needed to be myself again, limited but still me.<br />If only I had another wish, I could put this all right.Miranda Katehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11166000575283710451noreply@blogger.com