By Jen Knox
Money was born at the backs of her knees. As a young girl she stumbled, and the coins piled up beneath her heels. It was a neat trick that caused her parents to sing the girl’s praises before making their demands and, ultimately, trying to rip from her what they couldn’t see. When the coins were all used up, they disappeared.
As an older child, she traversed her coastal city with a slanty-headed green toy made of clay that could bend to accommodate any circumstance. This toy, a gift from her late grandmother, taught her to worship asymmetrical things. She saw the world as a splendor of odd shapes and, as she got older, learned to avoid mirrors and people with pretty faces.
She walked the beaches alone as a young adult and wanted nothing. She found a stretch of sand to settle on, but those who shared the land were fierce. They’d steal anything they could from her body and her bags, but they didn’t know what to do with what they stole.
Now with nothing, she slept on the warm sand sober, while those nearby bought things to smoke or imbibe or dissolve on their tongues. As these substances dissolved them in turn, she learned to offer compassion from afar. Knowing about the soft spot at the backs of her knees, she waited ‘til the sun fell and journeyed onward.
On an indigo night, she walked toward a beach that had a sign saying “no textiles,” a term that nudists used to describe the clothed. It seemed a fitting place to camp. The first few nights, she saw too much flesh too fast. After a while, however, she found delight in their awkwardness, the scattershot parts that made up the machines. They were all machines, barely working, but honest about it.
A seeker, she continued to move, until she found an expanse that called to her. Flowers blossomed from the hands of one beach dweller, while another worshiped the water-heavy sand as it fell in clumps from his fingers. Home. She knocked her knees together for the first time in years, filling the hidden corners of the ocean with coins.
At one time, she thought she could be broken like a piggy bank. Her parents and others had cut themselves on her edges. But knowing how to lose it all only to discover there’s nothing to lose, she learned to trade starfish for seashells, and only fleetingly wondered where the coins would surface. At the mouth of the ocean, each night, she created more than the entire world could spend and, as others explored their freedoms and greed, she wished them all well.
Wow!!! I love how you write this. A parable. Simple. Effective. Thought provoking. It carries insight on its shoulders, hides pricelessness in her knees.
“Knowing how to lose it all only to discover there is nothing left to lose.”
Brilliant.
“They were all machines, barely working but honest about it.”
Yes. Some of them are not honest about anything. Watch out for those ones.
They’ll leave you stumbling in darker places you never thought you could go. Unexpected claws. Dirty plans. I love the character. She is unique. Shy. Giving. Wants nothing but space and freedom. People see this as weakness or want to take advantage. Beautiful write. Impressive. Ten Stars.
Thank you.
Thank you for this deep and insightful read, Scott. I genuinely appreciate it.
My pleasure Jen. You’re writing really moved me. It’s haunting, in a good way. I’m a writer myself, work in progress I should say. How much do you charge? Lol. Seriously.
Feel free to reach out, Scott. My website is linked, and I work with writers in different ways. We’re all WIPs. 🙂
Thank you very much. How long have you been writing? Your style is spectacular. I found myself very engrossed reading your awesome story. It’s always a pleasure to read something that makes you stop in your tracks.
I’d say you are pro, my friend. I will reach out. Thank you again Jen. It’s an honor. 💖💖💖
I couldn’t love this more. So much poetry and so many incredible lines: “It was a neat trick that caused her parents to sing the girl’s praises before making their demands and, ultimately, trying to rip from her what they couldn’t see,” “They’d steal anything they could from her body and her bags, but they didn’t know what to do with what they stole.” “broken like a piggy bank” “she created more than the entire world could spend”. Just beautiful.
Thank you so, so much, Stefanie!
Great story
Thank you, John!
Jen, I miss you so much. Thanks for sharing your story.
Likewise, Charles! I’m alive again. We should trade work sometime soon. 🙂
I just posted a short story in progress on the google drive. Check the FB group for the link. I would greatly appreciate your comments!
Beautifully written and well told, Jen!
This excites me to read, Jen.
She’s like a half-sister to “Amanda” in my re-read now of Tom Robbins’ ANOTHER ROADSIDE ATTRACTION.
Thank you.
Love Tom Robbins!! What a great comment to get. Thanks, Jim!
This is gorgeous. Well done! I am enjoying reading your book, “Resolutions.”
Yay! Thank you, Rebecca. 😊
This is stunning, poetic, and as close to perfect as it gets.
Wow. Thank you, James.
Beautiful read.
Beautiful!!
Thank you, Vivian!!
Jen,
What a moving contrast between the hidden treasure in her Popliteal Fossa and her gentle delight in the manifest awkwardness of those honest people on the nude beach with their scattershot parts, in their barely working machines.
Such a tenderhearted view of the nature of life expressed in the voice of a gentle, omniscient narrator, the same voice you brought to Dandelion Ghosts.
My writing is of the kind expressed in Poppy Seed (January 10, Flash Fiction).Yours is the kind I rely upon to restore my oftentimes faltering faith in human nature.
Bravo Jen!
Thanks, Andre!