The ABCs Game – E is for Eye

EyeToEye
E
is for Eye – ‘ī n [ME, fr. OE ēage; akin to OHG ouga eye, L oculus, Gk ōps, eye, face, Skt akṣi eye] (bef. 12c) 1. a: an organ of sight; esp: a nearly spherical hollow organ that is lined with a sensitive retina, is lodged in a bony orbit in the skull, is the vertebrate organ of sight, and is normally paired.

I love word derivations. When I was a child and read the dictionary because it was fun, etymologies were always the best part. This blog entry was first created eight years ago, right about the time I stopped playing this word game. My muse started packing his things, and all I ever typed here was the above paragraph, and this thought, “It is that giant shape that peers into your window….”

I then added this post to my drafts and left it there to rot. Last night I was inspired soon after I began looking for the components for the accompanying collage, and while going to the store I thought of the words that belong here. All day yesterday people tried to talk to me, and they had to get my attention several times because I was lost in my world. I was lost in this.

* * *

Look at me.
Good.

What is your name?
Wrong. Your name is Toy.

Where is your home?
Wrong. I am your home.

Who is your family?
Wrong. I am your owner.

Look at me.
Stop crying.

Who did this to you?
That’s right. I did this to you.

Open your eyes.
Tell me what you see.

Come here, come closer.
I gave you an order.

Very well, you leave me no choice.
Stop screaming, I won’t hurt you.

I’m only closing my fingers around you, and doing your work for you.
Now look. Look. Open your eyes. Dry them.

Now touch me with both hands.
Yes, there. Reach over my thumb and touch me.

How does it feel?
Yes. What else? Press harder.

Close your eyes and see with your body.
Thunder? No, that’s not thunder.

That’s my heartbeat. That’s my blood.
Rushing there for you.

Put your hands back where I told you.
Follow my orders.

Now feel the heat.
The air down there is thicker. Wetter.

Do not move your hands away.
Or I will keep them there for you.

Tell me your name.
Wrong.

Tell me your name.
Good.

Open your eyes.
You are learning.

Look up. Look at my face.
I don’t care if it hurts your neck.

Tell me my name.
Good.

Show me your home.
Confused still?

Look down again.
Look with your eyes, and with your hands.

That’s your home.
I’m your home.

Push hard. Harder.
Do you hear that?

That’s all for you.
It’s coming for you.

I’m going to put you down now.
Don’t run. Don’t cry.

Alright, keep crying.
But run and I’ll take over.

No more learning.
Only teaching.

Good Toy.
Now come home.

* * *

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “The ABCs Game – E is for Eye

  1. This is just amazing. I know there’s affection behind it, way in the background, but the possession that fires this disciplinary lesson is hypnotic, like staring over a cliff. This is the fretwork of a much-more-real giantess/tiny sequence, not the cartoon version where the little guy gets a couple panels of exasperation but falls in love with his owner quickly. Everything… I can’t call these couplets, but these paired lines, starting like a catechism and then lapsing into merely grouped thoughts, pulse like the giantess’s heartbeat. It’s remarkable. That’s part of the vertigo, feeling my body rocking back and forth with each group, question and answer, premise and resolution, over and over. And throughout it tells a little story that hints at a past and suggests a future yet is complete unto itself. Absolutely compelling.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Aborigen! Hypnotic is a good word to describe it, and I’m not trying to give myself props… it’s the scenario that feels like something so close, so deep inside of me, very much the place where I belong. I was hypnotized by the idea yesterday, made the mistake of doing something else when I had time to write, and it haunted me this morning until I created time to type it down.

      Couplets. I should practice and write a million. I keep thinking the October contest should be about poetry, though I also like the idea of stories based on tentacle interaction.

      Liked by 1 person

      • You’re gonna have to walk me through that one. I’m not opposed to the idea, but I’ve never explored the basic precepts of squid-affection, and I can barely imagine what it would be like to receive this, normal-sized or tiny. Something else entirely.

        Liked by 1 person

        • It is different, I admit. I can’t even classify it as tentacle porn, because it isn’t; and it’s not really part of my fantasies the same way size differences are… but more of a deep sci-fi interest. But if it shows up in stories, I’m not going to throw a fit.

          Liked by 1 person

  2. I was reminded of the whole boot camp dynamic, the unfreezing of old behaviors, the learning, and freezing of the new. Toy should start to feel some esprit de corps in about four weeks based on my experience. Something to look forward to…

    Liked by 1 person

    • I like that.

      Four weeks? That’s far better than the two months I always imagine would take. Sometimes I think a full-bodied, robust, piquant Stockholm syndrome might take even longer. But yes, when that moment comes, it’s well worth the wait. It’s actually worth writing about even when the moment never comes.

      Like

  3. I love the scale here. She is big enough to be in total control while not so big that she can’t interact with her toy in most normal ways. I think a 3:1 or 4:1 ratio works best but it’s up to the giantess how big a she wishes to grow and how small she wants her toy to shrink. It’s her world and her rules.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s