A Very Tiny Piece

[Georgina]

The Staircase

He stared down at the gaping maw that was the staircase. He was in awe of the potential of the bottom of the stairs. The endless, thickened, tangible air that separated where he was to where he could go. Steps twisted at the bottom and bumping up in regular intervals towards him. Walls enclosing and defining the space to his ultimate destiny. The bottom of the stairs. He stood, testing his will against fiercesomeness that was the step off of the end of the world as he knew it. Gleaming eyes of the rabbits that were his slippers transfixed upon his face as he contemplated the space that had the potential to both consume him, face first, and also lead him to the basement. He was two.

[Pax]

Fascinating use of language, Georgina. The words almost served to create a vertigo all on its own. First, the stairs promised to consume him -- a terrifying vision -- but no, there was potential there -- peace? -- thickened air -- did his breath catch, did his heart thump in his chest, did he for a fleeting moment reconsider what he was contemplating? -- perhaps so, testing his will -- such juxtaposition, rabbit eyes -- ending the spiral of feelings as it started, in the consumption metaphor. Almost.

"He was two."

That sentence is very different from all the rest. All the rest were so much longer, so full of imagery. "He was two." Very stark -- a hard stop, as if he has already jumped, but he hasn't -- he's still there, contemplating. What does "two" mean? That he's of two minds, even now? Perhaps -- The staircase both terrifies and welcomes him.

[Georgina]

Vertigo-causing words is a cool image. Thank you for commenting, Pax.

I wanted the words to sound overwhelming and complicated about something simple, which is standing at the top of a staircase and contemplating going down the steps. I imagined that’s how it felt to him even though the character wouldn’t be able to articulate any of that. You get the first clue why it’s overwhelming, because the person at the top of the steps is wearing bunny slippers that are staring up at him. Finally and, as you pointed out, flatly, we find out that he’s two. As in: two years old. And that’s why the staircase is fraught will all sorts of strange and wonderful and dangerous potential. It’s new to him.

And then the image in my mind stopped there. It began as a shadowy outline of a body standing in a doorway at the top of a set of stairs and when the shadow cleared, he was just a little boy.

[Brian]

Apr 5, 2009 20:44:56 GMT -5 Georgina said:

The Staircase

He stared down at the gaping maw that was the staircase. He was in awe of the potential of the bottom of the stairs. The endless, thickened, tangible air that separated where he was to where he could go. Steps twisted at the bottom and bumping up in regular intervals towards him. Walls enclosing and defining the space to his ultimate destiny. The bottom of the stairs. He stood, testing his will against fiercesomeness that was the step off of the end of the world as he knew it. Gleaming eyes of the rabbits that were his slippers transfixed upon his face as he contemplated the space that had the potential to both consume him, face first, and also lead him to the basement. He was two.

Georgina, I've read this a couple of times now and enjoyed it. You did a great job of using words to describe the anguish that the individual at the top of the stairs was feeling. But you know what? Until I got to the end (the slippers) I thought this piece was about a dog! My mom's dog (a 14-year-old chocolate lab) has a lot of difficulty in going up and down stairs. Even a few steps can be a problem, and he'll stand at the top, gazing down while looking scared and hesitant of his next step. Your story made me think of him.

[Calluna]

OH, he was two years old! I read that last sentence differently. I thought it was referring to some sort of inner struggle...two sides of his personality...one wanting to get to whatever was at the bottom of the stairs and the other horribly fearful of the stairs. Interesting how words can be interpreted in so many ways.

[Georgina]

And here I thought the bunny slippers were a dead give away.

And thank you, Brian. It's neat that conjured a memory for you.

[Pax]

[This was originally posted privately to Georgina, but she has given me permission to post it publicly here -- Thank you!]

lol, was I way off! But that's fantastic. I've heard that the best writing allows the reader to insert his own experiences and impressions into the story and make it his own.

You wrote it more literally than I read it: The swirls of feelings and wonder that a little boy may experience when encountering something as awesome as a large spiral staircase for the first time. So innocent, and sweet. I'll tell you, one of my favorite things is to see a puppy or a kitten playing. Because everything that is so mundane to we jaded adults is so utterly new and fascinating to them.

I'm almost embarrassed to say how I read it. May I? I've always been fascinated by the supernatural, so among other things I'm always tuned to look for double meanings. As well, for whatever reason with my own creations I'm obsessed with exploring the mind pushed to the edge by death, whether it be the death ultimately of the protagonist or the death of someone close to him. What does it MEAN to him, how does it CHANGE him, what goes through his mind?

So... again, almost embarrassed to say it... in reading your story I imagined a pitiable soul, a male, possibly in his 20's or 30's, living with his mother in an ancient apartment building -- perhaps converted from an old luxury hotel that's seen far better days? It was, perhaps, 3am, and an utterly sleepless night. Not the first. The stairs I imagined were solid mahogany. Worn but still gleaming in places. Solid as marble, beautiful, implacable, dark. The bunny slippers I took to be a sign of his state of mind, a sign of his deep depression. They belonged to his mother. I think that, in her age, to be wearing bunny slippers, says something about her, that she's a little bit off, herself, and says something about how the two of them lived. I think he despised being cold, and the hallway was extremely drafty, and that stairway unforgiving. I think that he chose to wear SOMETHING simply to keep his feet warm, and the slippers just happened to be by the door, and he didn't even have the energy in his state to try to find something more suitable. If the thought occurred to him of how he'd be found at the bottom of those stairs, lifeless and smashed, with bunny slippers, it didn't stop him.

I imagined, finally, that he was teetering on the railing, balanced there on the slippery soles of those slippers. I could see him as he stared down at those uncaring plastic eyes eyes and past them to the darkness below. The thick air -- I imagined that even with someone committed to suicide, there must be fleeting moments of horror at what they are about to do. A kind of horror that would choke the airway and make the air seem thick. The spiral of the staircase, spinning into the blackness, was as metaphor for his spinning mind. Down there was death, and life, the possibility of something beyond, and at the very worst, at least, an End. As for "He was two," I thought that that meant that even now he was of two minds.

Though it wasn't the one you quite intended -- thank you for that experience. :-)

[Brian]

That's a fascinating image you had of the person at the top of the stairs, Pax. I never would have thought that, but I enjoyed reading your interpretation of it and level of detail.

[Pax]

Thanks... just tells you my mind works in weird ways. Georgina's work was inspirational.

[Georgina]

Why thank you, Pax. I personally think it's because you have a rich imagination and a mind you let roam where it will.