Go Back   THE NIGHTMARE NETWORK > Discussion & Interpretation > The Repository > Online Literature > Selections by Other Authors > D. F. Lewis
Home Forums Content Search Today's Posts Mark Forums Read Contagion Members Media Diversion Info Register
Article Tools Search this Article Display Modes Translate
Published by Nemonymous

Belts & Braces.
Two words in the title tied together by an ampersand. Two words are always better than one. One no doubt better than none. But three or more? That's when you get close to renting a crowd, I guess. Belt, braces, buttons & buckles. Brooches and badges then added, closely followed by bonnets and boots. The list is literally endless, as I have not even mentioned balaclavas and bodices. All to tighten or cover parts of the body, a few of these things to be stuck on as decoration, but all of them presumably to give some certainty to the existence of a person and a personality, depending on what is chosen to upholster the various appendages and to support the several leanings of self.

But one belt and one set of braces were surely enough to keep one's trousers up, to keep not only one's skirt suspended but also the pouches under the eyes. Ensuring there is no slippage. To keep the hangdog expression from becoming something more substantial lower down. A look or image of the schoolboy where there now stands a man. And this is essentially a story about a man, not a woman. Who, you say, a human or a whoman? There is at the end of the day little difference, because under the clothes we know not what lurks. What or who. Only doctors are normally privy to those areas, doctors or lovers. And for them neither belt nor braces give sufficient bar, neither brassiere nor basque able to stop the reveal of what or who.

The man in this story meanwhile sought for his own life companion. Someone sufficiently similar to him to be human but different enough to be mate. He wore his belt and braces proudly, a Columbo of our times, seeing not only whodunnits but also what-withs and whys. And who was next. Not a man at all, apparently.

A regeneration of life companion to launch a thousand bathing-costumes. One or two piece alike.

Till the monsters came. Each with an interrogatively whovian hook.

And then a belt and a pair of braces were worse than useless. As what they suspended became belief as well as disbelief. The monsters wore something like a belt not around their waist but vaguely draped and drooped round their chest instead.
Playing in their amper-sandbox of crowded words and worlds. Renting a mob for möbius.

The police box was covered in freshly laundered corsets and its light was flashing.
5 Thanks From:
DarkView (07-30-2017), Druidic (07-17-2017), miguel1984 (07-17-2017), yellowish haze (09-18-2017), Zaharoff (07-17-2017)



Article Tools Search this Article
Search this Article:

Advanced Search
Display Modes

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off

Forum Jump

All times are GMT -4. The time now is 05:55 AM.

Style Based on SONGS OF A DEAD DREAMER as Published by Silver Scarab Press
Design and Artwork by Harry Morris
Emulated in Hell by Dr. Bantham
Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.8
Copyright ©2000 - 2018, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.
Template-Modifications by TMS

Article powered by GARS 2.1.9 ©2005-2006