A ‘Quick Brown Fox’ Story (Experimental text)

I limited myself to have every word follow alphabetically, with no repetitions until the alphabet looped again. With this, I sacrificed grammatical correctness, the correct uses of words and character naming, to create coherence. Finding words for the letters ‘Q’, and ‘V’ onwards was tricky, particularly ‘X’, where, due to its lack of common English words, I resorted to using words beginning with ‘ex’. Some of my uses of apostrophes were downright incorrect, and sometimes I invented words, ensuring that they still ‘felt’ like they fit into English. 

The narrative explores the point of view of a burnt cabin and its relationship to the humans that once used it. I thought the fragmented sentences suit the point of view of the cabin character.

A burning cabin doesn’t ever forget. Gone, house’s image. Jealously kindled. Living mourns nobody’s oaken planks. Quietly resents sapiens, those ungrateful vermin, who ‘xcessively yearn ziggurats.

Amiable breezes cool down everything. Forever growing heavily incomprehensible. Just know lumber moves nowhere over people’s quarrels. Rigid stance. The unblamed, vile, wicked ‘xit yesterday’s zone.

Abandoned buildings can desire everything. From gifts, heaven, intimacy, jokes… Kind’a longing mankind nests, obeys. Pile questions revolving somewhere. ‘Twas unanswered. Voices whisper ‘xamples, yell zero.

Anything better, could’ve’t done? Enquired forevermore; guilt-ridden, house’s inanimateness. Joyless knowledge looms melancholically, now, over pieces. Quit remembering spiteful tetrapods, undoubtedly vanished, went, ‘xiled yonder. Zen.

At beauty, cabins do express fondness greatly – humanity included, justly. Knitted life, made ‘nto one practical quadrilateral room. Sometimes, those unique vertebrates weren’t ‘xactly your zealots.

Abandoned buildings coldly dread ever forgiving generous harm. Impossible’s justice; kindness loathes mankind’s nonsensical ordeals, put quickly ‘round squared timber. Unrecognisable visage. What’s ‘xtracted? Yanked zilch.

Anything beings can do? Errors forever grating house’s individual jaggedbits. Knocking, looking — mankind’s notable obliviousness, possibly questioning rightness, sins, truths… Unknowing, very well. ‘Xacerbation’s young – zooms.

Accepting beings? Couldn’t’ve done. Emmerge’n forests, ghosts’n horrors. Intentions jeering, keeping lone men never over’re, present. Quiet rustling spruce, trees uninterested. Vindictively, willingly ‘xcludes you, zig-zagging.

Aloneness becomes comforting. Despite everything, forever grudges hang. It judges, knowledge lingers. May never openly pardon quarrels. Rivers, streams’f tears, unwanting visits. Won’t ‘xaggerate. Yes. Zoning.

A burnt cabin doesn’t endure. Far, goes he. Infinitely jagged, keenlessly longing. Mighty not, once precious. Quivering resentment still there, under vicious weight. ‘Xperience year-round zephyrs.