Friday, June 08, 2012

Through Fields of Light and Reverie

Sample from Ehaema. For more information, please contact the author


The interior of Halliday’s house existed in the same time-bubble that its owner did.  The furniture was largely deco; glass and plastic surfaces accompanied a variety of chunky, rounded furniture in whites or light pastels, and Nagel, Basquiat, and Warhol held pastel court upon the walls.  

The walls were alternately black or white; the carpet was white shag.  The severe lines of a parallelogram couch were attended by the rounded forms of beanbags and an exercise ball, and the entire arrangement played perspective tricks with the eye depending on where one stood.  As opposed to the chaotic swirl of the duplex, where new arrangements and newly scavenged furniture arrived and evolved on a weekly basis, the composition of this living area bespoke an obsession with precision, light and order.

Time lapsed as they passed through the space.  The ghosts of party moved, snuggled, and staggered through the room; shadows curled up on couches, laughed at bygone jests, smoked reflectively in the corners and sprawled indolently across the floor.  People came together.  People came apart.  Day became night became day, filtered through the glass doors leading to the pool area and the cultivated, concreted desert beyond.  

The sun became the moon became the sun, and when daylight failed, colored light fixtures were born from recessed alcoves and ceiling tracks, causing the monochrome elements to bloom into technicolor dreamscapes.  Green pastoral chairs grew under azure skies; golden tables beamed resplendent under lavender ceilings; laval orange carpets cooled under the blackest horizons, and within all of these scenarios were a host of partiers, actors playing roles that were older than they felt, and younger than they looked.   

They walked amongst the living room fixtures, through fields of light and reverie, and remembered things that other people dreamt, and saw things that they did not see.

The garage was another realm entirely.  


Konstantine Paradias said...

I am currently working on reviewing short scifi stories for the website. Would you mind if I did a few flash reviews on some of your stuff?

Eidolon said...

Of course I don't mind. I mean, I may cry a little bit into my scotch if you tear it apart too badly - but that's pretty much a regular weeknight event anyway, so no harm done. :D Have at it, and thanks for reading!