Friday, October 10, 2008

The Stellenbosch Sisters

The dogmen avoided the Cataluña sisters, having neither a liking for licorice sticks or creatures more hideous than themselves. Knowing as they did Dejesus’ fondness for licorice, they parried across the sideways in search of the sister’s sweets shop, the littlest dogman sniffing out licorice sweets and hideousness. The Stellenbosch sisters sold odds and ends from a pushcart, the eldest sister Eloise having a fondness for Western Cape sweetmeats and card tricks.

(Dear reader, if read you do, you might query as to the umpteen character driven into the plot of this pilotless thing, and right you are to query. The world is peopled by umpteen people, people whom you and I will never meet, never acknowledge as people at all. These are the people that people the world of my imagination, the peopleless people, the lost and forgotten people, the people, that think as we might, we can never people in our peopled world. I feel it my duty to people my peopled world, the world of my imagination, with such people, the peopleless).

The Stellenbosch sisters were known far and wide for their odds and ends, and people were willing to pay handsomely for a tiny odd or an even tinier end. The harridan’s sister loathed the sisters, saying they brought an unwholesomeness to the church bazaar with their soiled skirts and filthy mouths. ‘…for the last time stop hollering…’ screamed the harridan’s sister. Dejesus hid behind the rector’s altar, his thoughts on black aces and cudgel blows. The dogmen circled the church, the littlest dogman peeking around corners and behind nooks.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz
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