Monday, June 17, 2013

Flash Fiction

I wrote this for Paper Darts and then realized it was probably more creative nonfiction. And then didn't win anyway. Oops!

Anyway, it's been a while since I've posted actual writing, so here it is!

The Terror of “Bloop”

            Summer 1997. A sound is recorded on the Equatorial Pacific Ocean autonomous hydrophone array on multiple sensors at a range of over 5,000 km. Scientists cannot trace the origin but theorize that it is not man made in nature.
            Translation, something big makes a big fucking noise in the ocean and everyone freaks out. The noise is given the name “Bloop” and becomes a mystery. Theories range from “gigantic undersea monster forgotten by time” to “but-seriously-it’s-probably-a-monster-forgotten-by-time-why-even-entertain-other-ideas.” H.P. Lovecraft’s gigantic, winged, octopus headed, be-tentacled monster Cthulhu is implicated. It is terrifying. Ever present danger. Unsolveable mystery with endless possibilities.
            Until it is solved. Not much later in conspiracy years (like dogs years, only more tinfoil hats). November 2012. A scientist from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration says that the sound from the “Bloop” is consistent with noise made by giant glaciers breaking away underwater. No monster. Only ice quakes. Disappointing.
            Unless it’s not. Because scientist or no, National Ocean and Atmospheric Administration or no, the fact remains that there’s a big fucking ocean underneath us and a big fucking universe above.
            And the thing that made the big noise may just have been ice breaking, but what made it break?
            Just kidding, that’s not a question. Wanted to stir the pot. Bad science. Manipulative writing. Scientists know what they’re talking about. Ice from glaciers. Glaciers do that. Making an argument where there is none, ripping holes in a tight tapestry and saying, “Look but you forgot this!” The “Bloop” was not Cthulhu. We remain in a world devoid of one more mystery. Chalk it up to boring ice doing boring things. C’est la vie and que sera sera and all that jazz.
            Except. Except. Except.
            Probability. That’s where things get scary. Ignore the ice for a second. (Easy, it’s so boring.) Think about everything that has ever happened. Done? Good. Now think about what will happen and how likely it is that those things would and will have happened in that specific order to bring you here now. There is no fate. It was not destined. Think about that and how that makes it all the scarier. Things are random, but also measureable and predictable. Some people win at casinos because they can count cards. Some people were in the right place at the right time and you are in this place at this time as a result.
            Zoom out. Endless perspective. Cthulhu may not be real, but there must be at least one creature swimming beneath us that no one has ever seen. It might be large or just deadly. I haven’t forgotten about the above either. Aliens may not be real, but if they are we might be able to have sex with them. Either way, it’s scary. We’re alone or we’re not. Nuclear proliferation was bad enough with just one planet.
            Terror.
            Back to the universe. Think about death. There’s no god. Terror. Cruel, violent, meaningless existence. Think about death again. This time, there is god. Or maybe many gods. Equal terror. Cruel, violent, meaningful existence. What about no god but still meaning? Terror. Or god but no meaning. Morality. No morality. Double terror. You are going to die and be wiped from existence. You are going to die and be transformed into a creature beyond your own comprehension. Terror cubed.
            Is your heart beating now?
            You are not unique. Terror. You are just like everyone else and there may or may not be a Cthulhu (terror) in the mix to worry about. Consider. Terror. Death. Terror. God life death infinite finite everything either is or isn’t happening perhaps now or at all moments and terror and one moment and one thing terror skull terror love terror sex terror terror terror! Terror becomes you if you give it enough power.
            Now, stop! Take a moment. Look outside. Doesn’t it look nice? Go for a walk.
            Terror subsides.
            Perhaps love isn’t real, but goddamn if it doesn’t feel good. Perhaps Cthulhu isn’t real either, but even if it’s just ice making a ridiculously loud noise in the ocean, doesn’t it feel grand to know there can be so much known and unknown at the same time?
            Either way, remember this. You are so incredibly loved. People can share and hear your story but there will never be anyone just like you in all of history and in all of existence. Remember that. It makes you better than some dumb “Bloop” any day. Besides-
            We all know it was Cthulhu. I don’t give a shit what some fucking scientist says.

3 comments:

  1. I really enjoyed this piece--it was like a mixture of a telegram and that Old Spice commercial with the guy on the horse. Choppy, but in a very coherent sort of way.

    The ending was strong, and I loved it. I love its simplicity and it's strong voice. I love the "FUCK YOU" message in it. It's a thoughtful voice. Choppy, but it fits the piece well. Like a memory, linked with thoughts and hotwired to other parts of the brain.

    I'll need more time to analyze and give you proper feedback, but I liked it!

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  2. @Ada- Thanks. I'm glad it makes you think of Old Spice, haha. I didn't even think of that, but now I could see how you could go back and read it in that voice.

    I await your comments.

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  3. I wrote a really nice series of comments for you. And then my computer decided I wasn't logged into gmail so it deleted them. Goddamn technology.

    Let me try to collect my thoughts again. I like this piece a lot. And it sounds like something they would publish. (I submitted too: 3 Lies and Quick. But both were not selected to actually be read by the guest-author judge.) What poop neither of us were published.

    Anyway. I like the science mashed up with the sci-fi/conspiracy theories here. I love the "conspiracy years.. like dog years, only more tinfoil hats". I liked the terror sequence as well. It felt a little Ginsberg-ian to me. :)

    Some phrases, however, I didn't care for. I thought the "C’est la vie and..." was too much cliche. I know it's purposeful, and you're making a point, but the words still don't mean much to me. In fact I read something that cliches are processed differently in the brain because they are so familiar. They don't evoke feeling any more.

    I would also think about cutting: "Manipulative writing." I felt like it let the reader peek behind the curtain too much (like in Wizard of Oz). Yeah, you're being manipulative, but saying it point blank there calls attention to the manipulation when you should still feel manipulated. (I hope that makes sense...) And, this might be terrible, but I might revise or cut: "You are so incredibly loved." I just felt like it was too comforting in a piece that you aren't necessarily supposed to be comforted by. Maybe something like "You are unique." or something.

    However, I just have to say, the last line is perfection. Sure, scientists, it was ice the WHOLE time. You only say that to keep us from panicking. But here we are, panicking. Because we know. The monsters are real. Under the bed, under the ocean. Because we make them real.

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