Steffany Butts - Boucher
Excerpts of Short Stories
“The pamplemousse moon hung in a thick haze as if suspended in a mold of milky jello. Dusk, dawn, dusk, dawn, dusk, dusk, dusk, tsk, tssk, tsssk were the repeated, fibrous thoughts patterning a filter through which her world was sifted. The oak branch bowed and creaked as she shifted her weight from one hip to the next until her bones felt as if they were outgrowths, branches extending from the tree, whom she named Fenick. She would visit Fenick most evenings, when the moon was low and her judgments were like tentacles pulling her down into a mossy abyss. She was in the haze, contemplating: thoughts are better kept as burrows, better to be hidden, secret. Verbalized, they become pathways, pathways become roads, roads become highways, highways become interstates, and inevitably interstates become toll-roads.”
an excerpt from
The Diary
of
Jane Eloise Macul
"Take a left at the railroad tracks, not a right. You will see an orange house and a pink house. One has a bent tree with a knot and hole in the center, I can't tell you which one, because I have wiped it from my experience. Keep walking, whatever you do, do not look inside that hole. You will smell the third house, which is of an indescribable color, before you even see it. The aroma of old spice, garlic and lemon pledge will affront you, yet somehow feel like an open invitation. This is not the time to become distracted. Cross the street. As you cross the street you will see a package lying in the middle of the street. Two cars will be driving in your direction towards the package. One of brown and one of limey green. When the brown car passes ask the driver if the coffee is fresh. The driver will run over the package if it is not and you should go back to the tracks and turn right. Should the coffee be fresh, retrieve the package which has an address written in crayon of blue. Remove the address and hand the package into the back window of the limey green car to a woman named Floydd. Do not become distracted by Floydd. Ask Floydd which o'clock is her shadow. Go to the crayon of blue at the o'clock of Floydd's shadow and wait."
an excerpt from
Floydd
Instructions: Remove cap from red-orange lipstick and gnash across your teeth. Now you see her. Her mouth moved producing monotonous tones that blended words together into this white machine hum. All the while her tongue knit that drone tone into a fine trapping, a true wordsmith snare that could catch you by the ankle and flip you downside-up like a live sardine on a frying pan, heat high. On occasion the tone would subside and her ear would licorice twist the most delicate venom that you never anticipated her uttering, but there it was, crystalline.
an excerpt from
Heat High
The emperor, as perceived by the general population, was eternal, while behind the mask of thick pancake flour and berry rouge, was folding in on himself. His bed was surrounded by etheric instruments of revival and magical concoctions. Attendants, weighted with the secret, like a feather beneath a stone, were convinced that he can be saved. Preparation for the moment when the sun touched the horizon was unadvisable, bad fortune. The attendants fearfully apply more cake and jam building up an exterior shell. The public nor the emperor himself was informed of the impeding sunset, yet the truth persisted in their bones.
an excerpt from
Setting Sun
A formidable, stubborn stone arch, Willard. Pass through not with the names William or Bill, as they will get you nowhere. An Ibex and an upwards pointing arrow inscribed on his keystone cause many a blank blink. Take passage. Scissors balance on points, creating an infinite mirror bridge down a long stone corridor, Oswald. Oswald meanders on topics of this - that, forget your hat, for hours. Scraps of aged paper, yellowed, with faded ink and volumes of ideophones envelope your feet and soundtrack each movement. Crisp, folding, slipping, textural tones; the drag of your feet form new thought forms, new poems. Anadu’s stone ribs punctured with niches possess tiny intricate paper deity’s, placeholders of beings now extinct. Oscar, Ani, Ben, Opal, Barnabas, Lois, William, Emmeline, Violet, Humphrey, Gordon, Ruby, Thelma, Carl, Mae, Lavinia, Atticus, Foster, Ward, Xavier, Zana, Velma, and Oliver are a few.
an excerpt from
Keystone