Posted in friday fictioneers



He lubricated this cog and that, knowing he’d performed these actions countless times, but unsure why. Duty, maybe, dictating he keep these cogs turning smoothly?

Listening to the whirring sounds become a symphony, he hobbled to the next shaft, then the next. With every step he yearned to remember, yet this shadow of forgetfulness would not brighten.

Slowly this machine opened translucent weathervanes as if opening its arms in a loving embrace. That thrumming symphony crescendoed, whereupon this machine gave birth to a tornado, one whose beauty overfilled his mind with silent screams.

Collapsing to his knees, Kogin sobbed forlornly.

(100 words)

This is a Friday Fictioneers Prompt. To read other Friday Fictioneer’s stories inspired by Nick Allen’s photo, please click the Blue Froggy below.


First and foremost I am a reader, then a storyteller. My reading tastes are eclectic. My writing can focus around the intimacy of closed settings and may tend towards characters who might be hiding something from themselves.

40 thoughts on “OILING THE WIND

  1. I read it as scifi not as metaphor, and loved “this shadow of forgetfulness would not brighten.”

    In my mind it was a curse much like in Kazuo Ishiguro’s “The Buried Giant,” a dumbfounding. Forgetfulness that frustrates every endeavor. (Im only halfwY through the book so dont spoil it for me).

    The unfolding of the weathervanes was very insectlike to me and I imagined a huge preying mantis spawning a tornado.

    And the end, the regret for what he has allowed to happen, his regret for all mankind. A powerful piece.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Dear Rochelle

      Yes, dementia was in there, and that feeling you picked up on too – that even when we forget memories, emotions stay with us.



      P.S. Have you heard of KuLooLam? Google him and watch the One Day then One Love videos – I have a feeling you will enjoy them.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Dementia is something I’m too familiar with, partly because of my work. So I recognized that piece. Not sure what happened there at the end, only that the poor man felt he had nothing more to live for.

    Good one, Kelvin. Sets my mind to creating what may–or may not–happen next.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hey, Jelli – thank you for feeling that power. And love you loving those images. Your last sentence sends shivers down my spine. Hope you are well? And prepared for the onslaught of the festive season. I wish you well wherever you are and whatever you are doing. Peace be with you, always.

      Liked by 1 person

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