The Moro Beam (a surreal account)


Sparks felt dead. This happened every morning after she’d just got out of bed. There was worry mixed in, as she may have talked in her sleep. She hid her deadness and worry and  assorted behaviors as best she could under a crinkle-cut top, and hoped for the best.

The Moro Beam- part of which was cut occasionally by her hand swiping through as she wove her hair into sailor’s knots- was her 2nd latest acquisition ( the crinkle-cut top being the latest) . She was quite sure that she was the only being in this particular facet who even knew what such a thing was. There was exactly enough space for it up here in the bedroom, and there’d  be even more space for it after a few extra things were hidden.

It was in Sparks’ nature ( hidden as it was) to bury doubt in a cake ( or under it to be more exact), where nobody, including herself, could see it. Good things  were hidden too, but for different reasons,  and in different places. This room, for example. This was the room where she kept all the light. The rest of the house was just dusty  old football colours, and flattened shapes with matching shadows.

Sparks Cyan Prickle had appointed  herself King of Light. If she hadn’t been allowed to choose her name, then at least she’d been able to choose her role. She kept this secret ( of course) and whenever she encountered suspicion in someone, she’d just download aforementioned  suspicion as a pdf document, then file it away under a different name. Then she’d go upstairs, open the window, and aim the Beam wherever she pleased.

Growing light was a bit like knitting;  dropping a stitch through the day  meant an extra hour of night. This was of little consequence so long as she remembered to pick up the daylight before too much night had elapsed. This would prevent  brightness reductions  the next day.

Here, in the bedroom,  Sparks’s itchy hairdryer eyes ( from too much computer screen through the night) were now following the dust. It  still seemed magical to her the way dust particles were transformed into glitter when caught in the light. Especially so in the radiance of the Mono Optical Reality Organiser aka Moro Beam. The rest of the house could easily be given such a facelift, and although at times she was almost tempted, she had to keep Suspicion at bay. No good going around flaunting a glowing house for everybody to wonder and gossip about. That wondery/gossipy /suspicion stuff was already taking up too much space. There was no way she’d be wasting resources by devoting a bunch of external hard drives just to that. Of course, she could just trash it. But that idea made her uneasy. Where did it go, then? At least if things were hidden on her terms, she’d still know where they were.
The mirror was warm in the  small, silver, circle-shaped section where the Beam was meeting it. Sparks stood in front of it. She didn’t really want anything to happen to the mirror. She wouldn’t be able to knot her hair if that broke. More importantly, the mirror hides the fact that inside, she’s more or less powder.

The sailor’s knots were done. They could now be fixed with a waterproof sealant, allowing them to last for up to a fortnight. That was a trick that Mess the  Timekeeper had taught her. For that, Mess had  been given a discount on that week’s light. They were quite close friends, now. As close as was realistic, anyway.

 Sparks painted her lips a metallic blue, then buried a few would-be words under a few bites of cake. Her smudge-lipped reflection reminded her that it would’ve been better to do those 2 things in a different order. She repainted her lips, then began positioning the  Moro Beam towards the day outside.

Life was currently easing into late Autumn, so being a few minutes later than yesterday didn’t matter much. Soon enough it would be Winter, when pride and any number of other sins could easily be hidden under a coat. It was also when people generally began to notice they were getting  paid slightly less than light for the shadows they were trading in at the pawn shop. They always survived though, cheering themselves up with Wondering tournaments, and sparkling dust. The compensation of Spring was only ever 3 months away. Sparks always found it a bit adorable the way they’d look at a flower then, ie. as if they’d never seen one before. Spring People were like the birds, who celebrated each dawn as though night had threatened eternity.

As the day passed, Sparks did some filing/ hiding of things until the mirror seemed adequately bored.

Two hours after the second half of the last second of the day, King Sparks C Prickle unlocked her teeth  with a plastic fork and shoveled some cheesecake in, careful to keep a certain song inside. Then, in the dark spot under the Beam, she slept.


Illustration by me  ( as are all artyworksies on this blawg)





4 thoughts on “The Moro Beam (a surreal account)

  1. Love your innovative way of coming up with ideas for stories and the bizarre story that resulted from it. I think translaturature is a bit like a cut-up technique, have you heard of that? A way of throwing chance into creativity, always makes for interesting writing.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Why fanx very much ^^.
      Yes! I love cut-up technique! I haven’t done that for a while, but your mention of it makes me think i should delve into that again sometime soon. I did get a little bit obsessed with that whole chance thingy years ago when i discovered the Surrealist Games. To be honest, i’m still a bit obsessed. I recently made a random sentence generator wheel ( i won’t bore you with the details; maybe i’ll do a little post about how to make one/ how they work sometime). But basically, you spin an arrow in the middle of the wheel and make different word combinations that can be turned into a story/poem/thing. Lots of fun! I’ll stop typing now before i get too excited. But cheers again for the comment 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

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