Ode To A Shoelace

This is inspired by Professor Snape’s clone puppet’s ode to a button. Of course, it’s nothing poetic as compared to Keats or Shelley. But it’s probably going to turn out to be an interesting prose piece, nonetheless, assuming it belongs to the male gender. Interestingly enough, the French language would agree with that.

He was lying there motionless, out of gaze. Or maybe no one thought it vital enough to give him a second look. Unclaimed, his soft brown body curled up in a foetal position providing an outside sense of insecurity. He seemed lost, and out of touch.

I ignored him too, for days at end. But that day, when she took time out to look, she noticed the way he had been literally thrown on the stair. Yet, she felt indifferent. Like it didn’t matter to her.

His ends were frayed and his body, lean yet somehow disheveled. His aura remained devoid of any care, frigid and upset.

He was dying, it felt used. It’s hard to tell the emotions he was going through because of the way he was guarding his effective bearing. He had a cohesive past. His silhouette silently screamed of the carelessness he had been subject to by the one who had adopted and capitalized him.

He was bought.

And now, he was giving up. But it seemed like he didn’t want the world to feel that way about his endeavours. Whenever he was asked to, he managed his best to be tied neatly. He looked smart in his early days.

It was no point reminiscing about his first overseer, the cheerful woman who had helped him escape from the filthy roads of a shoddy looking shop in Vietnam by bringing him to Paris.

He had seen the French city many a times. He had been out in the open, and also bore witness to walks along the Champs Élysées sous le vent.

It was time. He didn’t want to be around anymore. He had given it his best, and had been replaced already. That was what broke his self respect and confidence in serving her anymore.

She slowly made peace with the fact that it was time too. She picked him up with reluctance, remembering her version of the long walks in the city of lights, reluctant to part with him. Plus, he was nothing without his counterpart, he was thus useless to her. And had been so, for a long time.

But, it was time.

So she took one last look at her shoelace before she chucked him into the blue crafted bin.



x EdgyShark x


About edgyshark


Posted on September 24, 2009, in Cliff-Hangers and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. Cruel. Where did such inspiration come from?

  2. Interesting. Did you ever think what a tissue feels like?

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