Saturday, March 26, 2011


His eyes followed the letters across the page, his mind decoding their shapes and groupings into an approximation of the messengers intended meaning; communication is an inexact science.
Nevertheless, the hand that puts the letters upon the page holds the power to influence.

His eyes followed the letters across the page and images formed in his mind, as if he understood everything in the visual sense, stretching it across the cogs and wheels of meaning as if afraid of what he would come to understand by observing these working parts.

His eyes followed the letters but they slowed, realising he had not taken in the last sentence; distracted; went back to re-read it and realised that the source of his distraction was that the page he’d previously perceived as containing orderly rows of words, contained more.

His eyes, drawn closer to the page, made out vertical rows of tiny symbols in a shade of grey halfway between the black letters and the white page. And then another layer, smaller and a lighter shade of grey. And then another layer, closer this time , larger and darker. Layer after layer.

His eye, followed closely by his head and eventually his whole body, snake-like, was drawn into the black magnetic void formed by the open book. And when he was entirely consumed the book fell to the floor, laughing.

Tales for the attention-span deficit reader

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