The new but never worn Jumper
Fashion is a mysterious man who wears a beard, feigns to be a woman
and prays for originality. At my most original I was seconds old, enveloped
in my mother, but for my exposed head, and blue all over.
Since breathing and life’s experiences having taken their hold on me,
I have only managed to poorly adorn myself in blue and remain entirely unoriginal. As this original, blue, seconds old character, marginally cleverer than a plant, practically blind with no means to communicate other than wail, piss and shit, I was brilliant! Unfortunately now I am less so and hide behind
a blanket of words. When able, I attempt to chain these words together into stories and pictures; Films. Mainly unable to turn these words into anything, not even speech, like an unfashionable jumper I sit in a draw and wait
for my turn. Hoping that a moth will not eat me before I get my chance.
How similar the life of words, that stumble into stories and fight to
become films, are to a brightly coloured, confusingly patterned jumper.
As fashion dictates the destiny of that lurid jumper, you once chanced
as a good look, stories remain strapped to souls until they are
fortunate enough to be released…
It stank in here and I needed fresh air, these putrid little balls below
me were to blame, and frankly I wouldn’t wish them upon even a turtle-neck.
I knew that my next opportunity to break this stinking dark containment
would come soon. I smuggled myself close to a popular, rather slinky
polyester V-neck. Knowing that with the right hasty withdrawal
its static would lift me too.
My opportunity arose. I could feel hands probing my inmates above;
finely the slinky V-neck was grasped. I perked up my bright woollen threads
to aid the static’s hold on me. Bingo! I was pulled from the deep draw alongside the V-neck, my plan had worked! I then fell to the floor as the static faltered and the V-neck was whisked away.
The fresh air made my sleeves curl with joy. I lay there proud, but still tarnished from the stinking pit in which I had been held for so long. Its smell rising from me forming an ozone layer that disbarred me from this new found land. Everything else around me smelt sweet or sour and had a definite sense of belonging. I was very different, I was rather odd, unworn and, but for my age, new. I lay for many hours, my fusty stench slowly fading and my colours zinging in the natural light cast from the window.
I felt happy but incomplete. As my colour withdrew with the dying light,
I could feel the presence of a creature above. I had not witnessed such
a spectacle before. This thing bobbed and danced in the air. I had never realised how rooted I was, I felt almost anchored to the floorboards in comparison. The creature was so elegant and for some reason it appeared
to be transfixed on me. I couldn’t move and my colours were not looking
at their best due to the low light, yet there was undeniably
a connection between us.
I wanted to edge towards the creature but unable to, fortunately as my stench lessened, the creature moved towards me. As the last whiff of the little balls expired from my body I couldn’t believe my fortune, the creature dropped onto my chest. I beamed inside. The creature fluttered and tickled at my threads. I was in heaven. A tickle, a nibble. Wow! My Lord! Yes! Yes! NO! NOOO! I was breached. OUCH! I was breached! The little shit had bitten me. One wash and my threads would unbind themselves into little more than
a ball of wool. I was finished. SHIT! I was never to be worn,
never to experience, my destiny was cat fodder!
The creature flew off having fulfilled its needs.
