Search This Blog

The Contradictite

The Collected Writings of Jacob P. Silvia.

Llama

Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps

September 05, 2006

Your mama's a llama.
Your dada's an alpaca.
Oh, and I don't very much like your sweater.

poem

Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps

Comments

Jugend

February 17, 2021

[Author's Note: This is the outcome of a writing exercise from Jeff VanderMeer's book Wonderbook , found on page 25 of the Revised Edition] Michel pored over the musty scrolls and ancient dusty tomes. The light from outside dimmed with the approach of dusk, but still he worked, his study illuminated only by flickering candlelight and the shekinah of his halo. Hugin, a parrot, and Munin, a cockatoo, fluttered around the room, perching on the antlers of some long-dead deer head mounted on the wall, or a bust of Athena, or any of the other bird-friendly detritus scattered about his sanctum sanctorum. “Found it yet?” asked Hugin, landing on the edge of his current book. Munin chirped from within the mouth of an opened alligator skull. “No,” said Michel. “What are you going to tell the old man?” asked Hugin. “I will find it,” said Michel. He waved away the bird. Munin began pecking at a small book with a bright cover. Michel saw the word Kinderspiel written across the s...

Tautological Cyclops

September 09, 2006

A cyclops is a cyclops. A biclops has two eyes. A triclops has another (Which should come at no surprise). The children in the schoolyard can tend to be asses When they declare that a quadroclops Is just some kid wearing glasses.

Ten Minutes

March 19, 2006

[Author's Note: I wrote this poem in ten minutes as part of my college Creative Writing class, and tried to make it as confusing as possible.] As a needle throws steeds to stead or seeds to the wind (or wind) of the clock, A voice drolls from the closet, a robed ward with a voice. Freely a plague upon the teeth (avoid such a mishap) surely Will put you in need of deconstructive registry. ‘Tis better to have lathered, rinsed and repeated and then to get Dirty and stained, swimming amongst blackberry bushes, Than to have never washed at all. Mother tells me stuff and she sells me tough, For cannibals don’t enjoy skin & bones (bins and stones), Aside from to lick the marrow, and use the remainder as a spoonerism.

Powered by Blogger

Theme images by fpm

Cephalostate, Chapter 1

November 01, 2004

Phoenix From the Ashes In the depths of space, a giant alien thrashed her legs. Pouring into the cold vacuum, her blood formed tiny spheres as it rushed from her wound. She had been injured. This much was true. Placing a claw to her wound, trying to stop the flow, she realized it was futile for her. She would have to find a safe locale. She would have to find a safe harbor to lay her egg. Her life was over, but a new life still had a chance. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a blue/green planet. It was inviting, and not too far away. She would be able to make it if she tried. Moving her array of limbs, she flew closer to the planet. Soon she felt the pull of the world surround her. She eased back on her accelerating, allowing gravity to do the work. Looking at the largely proportioned moon associated with this planet, she saw a large glob of her blood eclipse this satellite. This was her last bit of blood. She was going to die soon. Her dying regret was that the egg ha...

Dandelion Junction

June 02, 2021

[Author's Note: This was my submission for the Geauga Park District's 26th Annual Nature Writing Contest . It received Honorable Mention.] The strangest place I’ve ever seen a dandelion grow is out from between two bricks in a wall. At one time, a mud wasp must have built a nest in the groove, and a dandelion seed must have landed there, taken up root, and started to grow. And there it was when I found it, yellow face to the sun, ready to take on the world as if to say: “I’m in a weird place right now, but I really want to live!” We call them “dandelions,” a word which we get from the French, which means “lion’s tooth,” named after the fact that the leaves have coarse teeth, much like its namesake. Other common names include blowball , priest’s-crown , doon-head-clock , witch’s gowan , and cankerwort . Scientists refer to the entire genus as Taraxacum , a word we get from Arabic, meaning “bitter herb.” If you’re at all familiar with Passover, there is a practice during which yo...

Cabbages and Kings

November 01, 2005

[Author's Note: This story has been released to the Public Domain under the CC0 license. The full version may be read here .] "The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- Of cabbages--and kings-- And why the sea is boiling hot-- And whether pigs have wings." Lewis Carroll, "The Walrus and the Carpenter" Gladwell once wrote: Cabbages and Kings To G.G. Thanks for helping me write this. But: Things were not right with the universe. Chapters Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Hands

September 05, 2006

The right hand says to the left "What are you doing?" "Nothing," it replies.

Cabbages and Kings, Chapter 1

November 01, 2005

Once upon a time, there was an author named Günter Godric. He specialized in writing speculative fiction, but took special enjoyment in reinterpreting fairy tales through a science fiction lense. His most recent tale took the concept of Diamonds and Toads, and added a space element to it. Diamonds and Toads in one of its many forms, tells the story of three young sisters, two of them vain and wicked, the third pure and noble, and their evil stepmother. The older sisters took advantage of all opportunities that would come their way, while the youngest sister was long-suffering, humble, and took her lot in life with grace and humility, taking no more than her share. Günter, on the particular evening in which we join him, sat on a stool in a bar. In his hand was an imported beer, and at his side was a ragged old man who was much less partial about his drink. Günter’s face was flush, and his speech slurred. Though the bar was mostly empty, he still spoke to the old man beside him as if...

Cephalostate, Chapter 5

November 05, 2004

Eyes in the Dark The restaurant was a quaint affair with orange walls mimicking adobe clay. Carlos ordered for everyone, speaking Spanish to the waiter. While waiting for the food, John lifted a glass of water to his mouth. “Señor,” said Carlos gravely, “don’t drink the water.” John has a surprised look, holding the glass to his lips. “I’m only kidding.” The others began to laugh at John’s expense. He too began to laugh, sipping his water. He set the glass on the table, shaking his head at Carlos. They passed the time spent waiting for their food by talking with each other. They learned a lot about Carlos and his family during that one evening. The food itself was a new experience for John and Martha, who had rarely eaten anything made outside of their kitchen in quite some time. Granted, they had eaten Mexican food in the past, though it was Americanized. This stuff was pure. This was true Mexican food. Everyone ordered different things, but they all shared...

The Life Bird

June 01, 2018

[Author's Note: This story was written for the Geauga Park District's 23rd Annual Nature Writing Contest. It received second place.] Melody drove. Jack sat beside her, polishing the lenses of his antique binoculars. He squinted while he did so, feeling for the lens caps after he had finished each lens. The binoculars smelled like dust and oiled leather. “Dad,” she said after an uncomfortable silence. “I’m worried about you. I think it’s time you moved in with Doug and I.” He said nothing. “I just want what’s best for you,” she said. After a moment, he said, “I can take care of myself.” She sighed. “I know you can, Dad,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to. We have the space. You can have your own bachelor pad.” She nudged him on the shoulder with her fist. He looked down at his binoculars. He wiggled his wedding band with his thumb. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “Fine,” she said. They were making progress. “What are you hoping to see today?” Jack took a ...

Conversing With Myself

August 01, 2000

[Authors Note: This is one of my earliest published pieces. It was originally published in August of 2000 in Between The Lines Literary Magazine , an online publication dedicated to literature and art written by high school students.] One day, while wasting a weekend doing pretty much nothing, I was looking for something simple to occupy myself with. I walked past the mirror, but I didn't walk past the mirror on the other side. I was just standing there, looking at myself walking by. I was laughing. I looked like an idiot too. I asked myself, "What are you laughing at?" I replied, "You! Look at you! You have all this time that could be used doing things! You could be drawing, working, writing, playing, talking to people, or any other moderately useful thing, and here you are, just wandering around aimlessly, trying to waste time!" I looked at myself oddly. "What are you talking about? Why is that funny?" I responded, looking myself straight i...

Tautological Cyclops

September 09, 2006

A cyclops is a cyclops. A biclops has two eyes. A triclops has another (Which should come at no surprise). The children in the schoolyard can tend to be asses When they declare that a quadroclops Is just some kid wearing glasses.

Cephalostate, Chapter 3

November 03, 2004

Allergies John encountered Carlos one afternoon. He and some of the other hands were smoking cigars. “Big news, jefe, my son was born this morning!” “That’s great, Carlos. What’s the boy’s name?” “Pablo.” Carlos reached inside the cigar box he had and handed a cigar to smoke. John took it, unwrapped it, used a knife Carlos had to cut the head, and held a lit wooden match to the tuck. He puffed on the cigar lightly as he told the hands what the day’s activities would be. He came inside for lunch smelling slightly of cigar smoke. Martha set down a sandwich and bowl of soup for him. Marvin crawled about the kitchen while he ate. Crawling to his feet, he looked up at his surrogate father. He sniffed John’s pant leg slightly, sensing the odor of cigar. Scrunching his face in disgust, he coughed, and then crawled into the other room in search of more interesting things. John finished his sandwich then reconvened with his hands in the fields. As he worked, the sun ...

Labels

short story poem Geauga Park District Annual Nature Writing Contest fantasy Cephalostate narrative poem science fiction /r/Fantasy NaNoWriMo Short Fiction Writing Contest Cabbages and Kings Christmas

NaNoWriMo Yolun allegory horror novel wonderbook Alice in Wonderland Catch-22 Spanish dystopia essay first place honorable mention secret agent

Show more Show less

Search This Blog

The Contradictite

Llama

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Jugend

Tautological Cyclops

Ten Minutes