thanks for your review. if i made punctuation errors, ‘m not technically skilled enough to realize it, since i’m prety much self-taught as a writer. thus, my ignorance shall be blisasful until further notice.
interesting suggestion as to incorporating the stages of grief, but why would he be grieving? unless i killed off the goat in an expanded version. i hadn’t considered the possible mental illness aspect; i just presented the goat as a phenomenon which only he is privy to. i guess he could be hallucinating, but perhaps he’s just tubned into a frequency others around him aren’t.
Short Story / INESCAPABLE GOAT
INESCAPABLE GOAT
It begins late at night, as you’re preparing for bed: you take one last peek through the curtains, and see, in the gauzy golden teepee of streetlight, standing in the skewed puddle of its shadow, a lone goat. Its coat dingy white, stained with large, amorphous spots of brownish-gray and almost-black. Jaws describe asymmetric half circles as it chews, chew, chews. But what is it doing there? What is it chewing? Above its raggedy swaying goatee, flashes of blood red and silver—must be a Coke can, carelessly tossed from a passing car, now a midnight snack for Mr. I’ll-Eat-Anything. You shake your head, chuckling. A fucking goat! And pad off to your bedroom.
In the morning, recalling, you assume you must have dreamt the whole thing.
But glancing out the kitchen window as you wash out your coffee cup, there it is. In the backyard now, standing stock still except for those relentlessly grinding jaws, it’s closer now, about half the distance from the house as it was before. Oh well, you think, at least the damn thing got out of the street. You’re late for work. You’ll deal with it later, if it’s still there when you come home. No way, you think.
As you’re pulling into the parking garage at your job, something white and gray hooks your attention from the corner of your eye. But you’ve passed it before you can turn to get a good look. As you slip into your numbered space, you can’t shake the notion that what you saw was a goat. Surely not the same goat, but similar. Goats on the brain, you mutter as you lock the car. You turn around for the short hike to the stairs and there, at the end of the aisle stands: a goat. The goat. It couldn’t be, but it sure looks like the same one. Spooked, hands shaking, you about-face and walk quickly the other way, going twice as far to take another stairway on the other end of the garage.
At lunchtime, you go to the window, knowing—dreading—what you’ll see as you look down from the fifth floor. You’d almost convinced yourself that what you saw in the parking garage was some weird, inexplicable hallucination (as were the other two sightings, most likely). It had to be. But (of course) there it is: standing impassive, implacable, on the meticulously trimmed strip of lawn that runs between of the building and the front parking lot. Looking upwards, it seems. You can’t see its eyes, those creepy vertical-iris devil peepers, but you have the distinct impression that it’s looking right at you, returning your stare with one of its own. You tear your eyes away, look about wildly for someone to call over, confirm what you think you’re seeing. But no one’s in the immediate vicinity, and by the time you duck your head into the break room and call a co-worker over (Mindy from IT), there’s nothing down there but green, green grass. Are you losing it? Cracking up?
Maybe, maybe not. After that, you continue to see the goat regularly. Not always, not everywhere you look. But frequently; just sporadically enough so that you see it when you’re not expecting to, but also sometimes when you are. At the end of the frozen foods aisle. Calmly perched on the precipice of an unfinished freeway flyover. In an open stall of a public restroom. On the playground of the preschool the next block over, planted in the loose gray gravel next to a giant green plastic turtle. Next to a seldom-used runway out on the far side of the airport. The only thing predictable is that it never appears when you’re in close enough proximity to another human being to have its reality either confirmed or denied.
Curse or riddle, it seems these sightings are meant for you alone, these visitations of Inescapable Goat.
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Catastrophe reviewed Version 2 -
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Intriguing setup. I like the way ordinary objects can be given a menacing aura, which you’ve done well with this.
Favorite line: those creepy vertical-iris devil peepers
Two observations which may just be my biases showing:
- Second-person narrative is always chancy.
- The ending is kind of weak.
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Curtastrophe reviewed Version 1 -
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This IS a great story.
I noticed a few places where I thought there were run-on sentences or punctuation errors (commas, semi-colons) but I’m not technically skilled enough to point them out with absolute certainty.
This is a classic “elephant in the room” story. From an “armchair psychologist” point of view, I’d say the narrator is afflicted with post-traumatic stress disorder.
The story arches quite well as the narrator goes from surprise, to terror, to acceptance. If you ever wanted to flesh this story out, you could incorporate the emotions the character already feels and mix them along with the five stages of grief: 1.) Denial 2.) Anger 3.) Bargaining 4.) Depression 5.) Acceptance
It was a wise decision to use the second person POV. It had the feeling of mild-medium creepiness. But it worked well because of the subtleness and restraint of the narrative.
I had no problem suspending my disbelief and I think the ending wrapped up quite well. Good work!
-Curt
AlexSDS reviewed Version 1 -
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This piece made me laugh.
You have some amazing descriptions here, especially in the beginning. I loved “in the gauzy golden teepee of streetlight, standing in the skewed puddle of its shadow,”, you really have a way with words here.
This story is short, simple and to the point. I like how you made it in the second person perspective, projecting the proposed idea behind the story onto the reader. It was definitely the best way to present this story.
Great work!
VoicesInMyHead reviewed Version 1 -
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I don’t get the point of this story. The goat, the coffee cup and noone in sight to confirm these sightings. I never could assess when I was reading the story what was the goal of the story. The story seemed to lack strong characters, a conflict, plot, and a main focus. I think if you used the skelton story that you created, then you maybe able to come up with something if your find the purpose for your piece.
hellbunny reviewed Version 1 -
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I didn’t know it was possible to write something that is both creepy and cute. I like your use of second-person POV. Most of the time, it’s not recommended, but with this story it works better than first or third.
“come home; no way”- While I’m not sure what is actually grammatically correct for this, in my opinion when you’re in the middle of a thought then suddenly change directions put … to break the thoughts to show the pause and a shift in thinking.
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