I was inspired by Mrs. Dalloway to try my own hand at the genre. No one can say I don’t “understand” Modernism or that I “wasn’t alive for World War I and can’t possibly relate” NOW!
Emannep lay upon her bed, and it seemed to her that the birds just on the edge of her hearing were, in fact, her consciousness. Chirp, Chirp. Oh, but she remembered the birds from that day, once, in October, when Harold had remarked cruelly upon her delightful orange crocks. They were the orange of freshly peeled Cheetos, and as she shifted her feet, they glinted in the afternoon sunlight. Another person was also there. Her crocks really are fantastic, the other person thought, in the way they often thought, because they are really smart (like crocks). Crocks crocks, crocks crocks crocks. Ceci n'est pas une pipe. “Life sure is meaningless,” said Emannep from her bed, “it's so hard to be an English aristocrat. No one understands me.” She drifted to the kitchen, where she made herself a turkey sandwich, because she was out of salami. Staring out the window forlornly, she longed for the days of her youth, like last week, when there was still salami. The clouds outside drifted until the neighbor thought they almost spelled out “Salami.” Then they all died.
Emannep lay upon her bed, and it seemed to her that the birds just on the edge of her hearing were, in fact, her consciousness. Chirp, Chirp. Oh, but she remembered the birds from that day, once, in October, when Harold had remarked cruelly upon her delightful orange crocks. They were the orange of freshly peeled Cheetos, and as she shifted her feet, they glinted in the afternoon sunlight. Another person was also there. Her crocks really are fantastic, the other person thought, in the way they often thought, because they are really smart (like crocks). Crocks crocks, crocks crocks crocks. Ceci n'est pas une pipe. “Life sure is meaningless,” said Emannep from her bed, “it's so hard to be an English aristocrat. No one understands me.” She drifted to the kitchen, where she made herself a turkey sandwich, because she was out of salami. Staring out the window forlornly, she longed for the days of her youth, like last week, when there was still salami. The clouds outside drifted until the neighbor thought they almost spelled out “Salami.” Then they all died.