Once upon a time there was a man, who would cough cough, cough, all night long, he would Cough, cough, and Cough until he would run out of Cough, then he would go out and Search for more Cough and start coughing once again.
This went on for a long time, a long long time, until one day The man with the cough, couldn’t figure out how, the cough, regardless of how much of the cough he sought out would never run out. So he started asking and questioning whether or not this Cough would ever really run out, and then what would he do?
So In his house, he would run left, and then pause, and then after a few minutes he would run right, and pause again, in search for a clue, to the source of the cough, or the Cough maker.
He would run and run and run, until he ran out of places to pause and run into. in. As he stood there, waiting for this alleged cough maker, he paused a little further and waited,waited; He waited and waited until he couldn’t wait any longer.
Just then a small mouse came out from a small hole on the other side of this big room.
He looked at the mouse and the mouse looked at him.
Slowly the man tried to turn around and turn away from the mouse, as to try to not stun the mouse into leaving, after all the mans was very lonely.
and So he turned around slowly so that the small mouse wouldn’t run away. *Cough Cough* “uhmmm” Said the mouse, and then dashed back into the hole in the wall, the Man flew across the room just as quickly and dodging a small chair that stood between him and the Mouses home, he just then collided with the wall… He stood there, before placing his ear slowly on the wall. He stood there before the hole in the wall and slowly but slowly placed his head and ear to the wall. * The man Coughed once. And and then coughed again *Cough, Cough, and Coughed, until he suddenly came to a stop.He suddenly stopped, “HAAAAAAAALT!!!” Said a voice. forFor the man Knew that very soon he would start to run out of Cough, and and he would have to go out and look for some more, so slowly the man placed his hands on his face, and Muffled an oncoming Cough.
, but But it was already too late, the cough was already but too far into coming out, the man Coughed and Coughed, and Coughed, until He ran out of cough causing him to run outside in search for more cough.
sSo just then the man thought if only he could stay here and not go searching for the cough maybe he’d figure out where the cough would come from. came from. But as much as he tried to stay behind, his feet just seemed to seemed to move all on their own, taking him first to the inner hallway, then the small doorway, and reluctantly keeping his hands at his side they danced to a beat not even a drum could explain, as he opened the door Slowly turning the knob, and running outside as he collided head first with the new cough he had found. and take him first to the hallway, then to the doorway, and then after reluctantly trying to keep himself away from the knob, he opened the door and ran outside all the way outside, and just then he found the Cough.
*Cough Cough… Cooooough!* the man walked back into his house and stared at the small hole in the wall of his Parlor room. Thinking of only the mouse, whom was now considered his only friend, he smiled for he knew that maybe one day the mouse would also seek his own cough. In his mind, they would cough about it over dinner, and maybe go on long walks seeking the cough, and cough about it when they got home.
He walked into the a smaller room, disheveled was he for seeking out the mouse while sustaining his new found cough was starting to ware on him.,, as he walked in further in slowly and smoothlyquietly, as quietly as he could, further and further into the small dark room he noticed a very small mouse sitting in the corner and a very small sound coming from the corner. *Cough Cough*,. He noticed that the small mouse might have been out of his little home, Just then the man *He Coughed againcoughing but only once, and a very loud and distinguished cough it was. He made his way over to the wall, a wall, any wall and placed his right hand just above a small painting. Then the man slowly walked over to the wall, and placed his hand right above a small painting. He then noticed that the small green and white wallpaper was already peeling off from where his hand was.
Slowly he took his index finger and tried to put it back up in place. He tried and tried to place the wall paper back up, but it just kept falling down.
` Just then on the other side of the room, He started feeling a small gust of wind as he turned around just in time to see a small pile of papers fly all over the Right side of the room, Reluctantly the man Ran over there very quickly and then ran back to the left, where the wall paper was, He ran over to the right, and then again reluctantly ran back to the left.
Not knowing what to do, the man then placed his hands on the wall, both of them this time and once again placed his ear to the wall in some kind of hopes.. The house was very quiet,. So quiet was the house, that you could hear the house next door. And why did he know it was the house next door, the man slowly moved his face a little bit futher leftfurther left. Cough Cough Cough,h. And and Sniffle. He placed his ear further and further into the wall. He moved his hand slightly further left until he bumped into the small Mantle place. Then Cough, Cough, Cough. A small gust of wind blew into the room… and the man just stood there, with a cough and a sniffle and his ear against the small Green and white wall.
Rachel, your writing has a rhythmic fluidity, although, I haven't a clue to where, or what it is leading to. However, I was drawn to the absurdity of the scene, which should be clearly signposted for children.
I would like to know where and when this scene is taking place.
This is weird, I think---
Is it meant to be a story for children? The repetition of cough; the use of a capital c: Cough, as if the cough has a personality... this is either intriguing and avant-garde, repetitious for children (a tactic that I don't really like when dealing with children), or maybe a little crazy. Or it could be an exciting new direction in writing, I don't know. It's so exaggerated that it might be cutting edge. (I never finished anything by Kafka or even started Ulysses, although I did own copies of each.)
Also intriguing is the genre you chose: "application_genre_literary". I have 2 questions, to which I'd really like answers:
a) Just WHAT does this mean?
b) Just HOW did you manage to label your story with this genre???
For me, the 2nd question is the more pressing. When I posted my "shared work", I had to choose from a list of genres which didn't even include "children's story". I had to choose "Other". How in the bejeezus did you manage to label yours "application_genre_literary"??? My hat is off to you!
OK, OK, you share work on here so that you can get feedback. Frankly, all the repetition lost me. I never finished reading the story. I imagine to myself that you're writing for an "arty" public: the kind that would be happy to watch a "performance artist" sitting in a cardboard box for half an hour. (In fact, the public would be watching the cardboard box: perhaps the meaning of the piece is that they DON'T KNOW whether the artist is really in there or down at the pub, having a laugh.)
Detail:
"Just then a small mouse came out from a small hole on the other side of this big room.
He looked at the mouse and the mouse looked at him."
[Why such HUGE gaps between paragraphs?] The first sentence has "a small mouse" as its subject. Therefore, when you start the 2nd sentence with "He", grammatically you mean the mouse. If you don't mean that, you've got to hand the title of "sentence subject" back to the man: "The man looked at the mouse and the mouse looked at him."
(Or did this happen invisibly during the huge gap between paragraphs?)
Rachel, you seem to be having fun, playing around with language. And that's a laudable thing. Don't let me or anybody steal that from you. But if you're at all interested in publishing, you have to make sure that your readers also have fun with the language you play around with.
I leave my highest praise for the end: This story started to remind me of some of John Lennon's writings ("In His Own Write" and "A Spaniard In The Works"): "Walking slowly but slowly toward her [...]"; " Two, (or was it three?) weeks later Frank awake again to find that there were still no flies on him.
'No flies on this Frank boy,' he thought"
... But you take it even further. Is this wise?
This is unedited, i think---