Sunday, May 4, 2008

World B

A small Inversion


In-ver-sion act or instance of inverting.

Reversal of the usual or natural order of words; anastrophe.

(In counterpoint) the transposition of the upper voice part below the lower, and vice versa.

4. A chromosomal defect in which a segment of the chromosome breaks off and reattaches in the reverse direction.

5. The point at which a part of this reality is replaced by another reality from a separate dimension.

Since the Brachester inversion in 1879 the frequency of such events has, as you know, increased. Whilst mass inversions like the one of 1903 are thankfully rare, it seems as though if you haven’t been directly affected by an inversion you’ll know someone who has…

An insurance assessor returns home to find his wife and children are no longer there, and upon speaking to the neighbours, discovers that they never were there in the first place.
A mother goes to pick her daughter up from school only to discover that her daughter no longer exists and she now has a son she does not recognize instead.
A family of four returns home from visiting friends only to discover that there has been a different family living in their house for the past twelve years.
The stories are countless.

Jacob Henry lost nothing in 1998, when a highly localized inversion occurred in his hallway, yet it changed his life forever.
Jacob had nothing really of any worth to lose. Few possessions, and no true love. An artist focused only on his art. Females his subject matter. He sketched them, painted them and made love to them.
Hundreds of them.

It was a blonde in the summer of 1985 who first noticed it. He’d finished sketching her, and screwing her, and she was on the way out of the door when she made a remark. A throwaway comment.

“It doesn’t look much like me.”

She was right. Jacob looked at his drawings of her, and it seemed as though they were of another woman.
Two days later it was a redhead laid out before him, and he found himself editing her form too. He reduced her breasts on the page. Took the frizz from her hair with his pencil. Changed her lips completely. Opened her eyes a little more, and then fucked her.
This one didn’t have the eye of the blonde and couldn’t see what he had done. He knew though.
He continued on this way for the next thirteen years. Every woman altered to look more like this other, who existed only as a picture in his head.

He often tried to draw the face before him, but something inside him found no satisfaction in it, and again and again he would reduce a chin, broaden a nose. Change the hair completely. Even with the most outlandish beauty sat there naked in his studio he’d opt to draw that other woman in that pose. Using the girl only for clues as to how the light might fall on the woman in his mind.

This didn’t stop him having as many of his models as he could, but as the years went on he found it less and less fulfilling. He soon lost count of them. His sketchbook the only clue to the true number, as he himself felt no need to recall their faces.
Only one face concerned him.

And that face didn’t exist.

Then one day in 1998 she did exist.

Jacob heard someone moving in the hallway that led to his studio, and upon going to investigate found her standing there.
She held out a set of keys. “Here’s your keys then.” She said.
Jacob said nothing. It was her. It wasn’t just one of those girls who looked a lot like her. This was her!
“Don’t look so surprised.” She continued, “It’s been a long time coming.”
She turned to walk out of the already open door.
“Wait!” Jacob called to her. “I, er.” He was lost for words. Him, Jacob Henry lost for words in the company of a woman.
“What? Jacob we’ve been through this last night. What more can you say.”
She knew his name.
Suddenly it came over him. A wave of emotion he’d never felt for a female before. “I love you.” He blurted.
“I know you do.” She replied “And yet I’m for some reason not enough you. Place a naked woman in front of you, and you have to fuck her don’t you. You just can’t stop yourself.”
Jacob couldn’t think of anything to say.
“You should have painted flowers Jacob. Maybe then we’d still be together.”
She placed her keys on the table in the hall and walked out the open door. Jacob closed his eyes, but never heard the door close. He opened his eyes again and saw that the door was somehow closed and the keys gone from the table.

An inversion had occurred.

He’d had her. Loved her, known her name, in some other world then lost her in this one.
It was only then when he returned to his sketchbook and canvases that he realised he’d never drawn her smiling.


Anonymous said...

I really loved the last sentence

BenefitScroungingScum said...

Amazing! BG

Jim said...

Wow! is right. That's some great writing, very creative. Reminds me of some of the short works by Julio Cortazar.

Anonymous said...

< Speechless!!!!>

Priestess Of Nothing said...

Absolutely breathtakingly brilliant.

Thirding the "Just plain wow" sentiment.


Helskel said...

*postive comment


Dm said...

Wow...what an amazing story...


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some sort of artist or something. with problems and issues. I draw stuff
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