Tale Weaver Prompt #3 Making Sense of the Nonsense (and a note for photographers)

He called himself a Grezzle

Though no one knew

What the appellation implied.

Was it an endearment from youth?

Did it indicate his rank or station?

Was it a gang sentiment or warning?

Was it nonsense or the abbreviation

Of an equally improbable brand?

 

I could discern nothing in the vacuum

That had absolved him entirely from sight

And I suspect the nothingness

Ran deep for his smile too was empty

A basin, a scoop, queerly toothless.

Whatever may be gleaned from his omissions

He suffered no infirmary.

His thoughts were voluminous

Beyond our petty human musings.

I found myself fumbling

Within his scarred orifices

Infinite and minute

He became an object of great fascination

Like a local quarry or a derelict house.

 

I suspect he was not a man

An alien, a demon, a quasi god perhaps

But no man ever lived such as this.

A Grezzle may well have been a sentient

As of yet unrecorded.

He lived amongst us

Curiously, in his corner house

Arranged with doll-like fragility.

He never sat in those timid chairs

Or laid in his well-dressed bed

He didn’t even bother to disguise

The plastic fruit

The neat rows of unused china cups

The gape-mouthed closets

That held not a stitch.

 

I believe the only object

For which he had any use

Were the books

But he did not read them

He opened his great round mouth

And swallowed them whole.

Then to our amusement

He’d recite the entirety of them

Male or female, young or old

He could become anyone

And had he access to our diaries

He might well have taken our souls.

 

I think I may have loved him

To look into that mouth, like a universe

I felt things more immense

Than the heart set to contain them

I knew things that words cease to mention

Though not for want of trying.

His jaw and nose were perfect

The thick hair that never wholly settled

The great height and the athletic form

The patient eyelids forever pressed

And those lips behind which nothing

And everything was simultaneously glimpsed

There is no doubt that he saw me,

Every molecule

Even my nonsense must have meant

A good deal more to him than it did to me

For he always took the time unravel it.

 

We made a monument for him,

A great black obelisk

Which stood outside

The now gutted library

On the day he disappeared

(and he really did right in the middle of tea

his unfilled cup the very last implication

Of his occupancy)

Instead of flowers, sheaths of paper

Of poems and cockeyed manuscripts

From the grandest to the most feeble

Of our literary attempts

And though we never saw him again

I suspect he saw us quite clearly

For every page was seized by morning.

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This character is influenced somewhat by a character called O in Planescape Torment but I put my own spin on it. I love creating characters and couldn’t resist using Grezzle as a name XD

For

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/03/05/tale-weaver-prompt-3-making-sense-of-the-nonsense/

*

Photographers

If you are willing to share your photos for inspiration and use at my writing group Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie please  contact me either by email or in the comments below. We will give credit and link up to your site(s). If you have any additional stipulations or requests please explain in your message.

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