The Dagny Ball

Ryan Edel

93 • Pencil Pusher

fiction, humor, short story, dagny

1st

Draft

Published on:

March 9, 6:33am

Word Count:

1710

Work Description

"Don't read about me. Get a life." --Dagny
("I mean it!")

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I don’t know what to write just now. I want to hit my muse with a brick, club her over the head until she gives me something to say.

But then, that voice: “Don’t even think about it.”

Dagny?

“Heck yeah, buddy.” She smiles like a shark about to eat a yacht.

You’re not my muse, are you? You’re just the heroine. All you do is talk and act.

Dagny feigns sadness. “Oh, whatever,” she says. “Like I care what you think. And why the heck do I need quotation marks, eh? I’m here, aren’t I? Practically the narrator myself, you know.”

Right, so you like to think. I’m thinking I should describe your feminine ways.

“Fat chance.” She bends down, pulls on her panty hose. She’s getting ready for a party, a quiet affair involving I don’t know who. Jonathan, I think, and maybe Maria and all of them. The protagonists club, I’d call it.

“What makes you think that?” she asks. She looks up from her gown. She’s smoothed the fabric as best as she can, but it’s never perfect enough, not for her. The rhinestones –

“You mean diamonds.”

Right, the diamonds, in places where you should have rhinestones –

“Go ahead and describe it,” she says. She sashays over to the ashtray, taps the excess ash off her cigarette. She brings the filter back to her lips and takes a long drag. The nicotine’s a comfort, the way it fills her lungs. Sweeter than air, it is, the smoky taste of delight. It clears her mind.

“A galaxy of stones,” she begins, taking up the job I’ve neglected. “Diamonds – half karat – running from the mini-sleeves down the cream silk fabric to my ankles. The only break is this nice, seductive slit to reveal that bit of leg I like to show off.” She runs her fingers down along her thigh to illustrate, flashes her eyes in a “don’t you wish you could have this?” expression.

What? Dagny? You, show off?

She shrugs. Her shoulders are perfectly round, petite but strong. She bats her eyes with a playful look, knowing I can’t actually have her or touch her or even know the touch of her lips to mine. It’s a comfort to her, knowing that she’s still as far from me as any stranger.

“I told you I’ll find another writer,” she says, reaching for the gloves. The gloves, too, are silk the color of cream. She pulls them on. They reach almost all the way up to her shoulders. It’s a very elegant 1930s style, I suppose. I’m not sure. Maybe the exposed thigh is a little too revealing.

“Oh, dahling, you wouldn’t understand,” she says, patting her face down with foundation. She reaches next for the blush, and then the lipstick. She examines herself in the mirror, checking for any blemishes I might describe onto her face. But then, she’d unwrite them, wouldn’t she?

“You could do the polite thing and address me in second person,” she says. “It’s rude to talk as if I’m not here.”

Right. Of course it is. You’re merely fictional.

“I’m your conscience and then some,” she says. She smiles. Her face is a perfect heart under the curls. She’s primped the edges of her hair to mimic an actress whose name I can’t remember. I’d say she looks a bit like a real version of Betty Boop, but –

“I clearly don’t,” she says. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

No, I don’t. I’ll let the reader imagine the rest. I don’t feel like writing much right now. I should be working on my website, or maybe e-mailing my girlfriend.

“Who, that Thai girl? The heck with her. She doesn’t want to talk, she doesn’t want to talk.”

Yeah, right. You know –

“That’s what you were thinking, too. Trust me, I know. I know everything you think, Ryan.”

Dagny –

“Don’t warn me,” she says back. “I’m beyond that. I might be ‘yours,’ but you are so completely mine.”

Right. Because now that I’ve written you, I will have to always write you. You’ll never die, never lose popularity, never actually care whether the readers like you or not.

“Right-o, bucko.” She smiles. “How do I look? Gorgeous? Or simply stunning?”

Like the afterthought from a horse’s butt, I say.

“Gee, thanks. Why don’t you go stick yourself in a light socket?”

She reaches over, scoops up the purse off her bed, stubs out the last bit of her cigarette. No Marlboro’s today – she reaches in and pulls out a fresh pack of Lucky Strikes.

“What, can’t a woman choose?”

I suppose you can. You don’t,

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Discussion

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Mari H.

8 • Scribbler

You did a great job making your muse seem real. I felt like I was watching a movie as opposed to reading a story. I could picture you even though you didn't described yourself and I can picture her looking like a sexy diva from the 1950's even though that may not have been your intention. Your description of her was so clear I really did enjoy your piece.

I am not a seasoned writer by any means but rather a beginner but your story left me wanting more.

Joey D.T.

21 • Scribbler

Bravo. I enjoyed this piece start to finish. Halfway through I think I may have found myself drooling for the next sentence before I had even finished the one I was reading. Brilliant work. I can still smell the vanilla extract. The comedy was great. Perfectly executed. I can't tell you the last time I enjoyed reading an online piece this much. I don't know if I ever have. The relationship you created with Dagny was more than believable, it was desirable. The story was very creative. If I were to plagiarize a work from Scribophile, it would definitely be this one. I only noticed one error and it was obviously overlooked by sheer accident.

I look away a moment, think about it, figure I should type in more for an ending. “About time,” Dagny agrees, rubbing her eyes. “I’m tire, and I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Nothing that matters, I just thought you might want to know. This work was great and you can definitely expect me to read your other pieces. You have gained a fan today.

Isabella Scott

41 • Pencil Pusher

You did a great job on this piece! I loved it from start to finish! You did a really good job of making Dagny seem real, and a really good job of making sure the reader knew she wasn't. I really enjoyed this story and I plan to follow ti, just to tell you. Keep it up and keep doing what you're doing because I loved it!

Timothy Uptain

106 • Pen Wrangler

Sheer fluff and votes of good confidence do not help you much, but you have mine. It was a good read, very reminiscient of the relationship between Lasciel, a fallen angel, and the narrator of the Dresden Files, Harry Dresden. Their constant inner dialogue through much of the later books went a long like this, with quips back and forth, though with more hidden agendas. Have you read any Butcher?

I assume Dagny is a recurring character, I will have to check out your other works.

Ryan Edel

93 • Pencil Pusher

I want to thank you guys for your feedback - I'm really glad you all enjoyed this one. Dagny is a recurring character (the kind that just keeps coming back), and I'll have more stories like this coming soon.

I'm afraid I haven't read the Dresden Files, but I've seen them in the bookstores and may have to check them out. I've heard that Jasper Ford's work also has some great similarities to Dagny stories in terms of metafiction and humor.

One thing I've noticed for writing stories like this is that I really have to let the characters do whatever. Dagny, though, seems to have found a voice all her own. They really are their own people, in a way.

(Says Dagny: "I'm my own person? All I get is that blatent crud? Stupid ingrate. How about you just walk over a bridge and never come back.")

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