Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story WriterFansler, Harriott Ely
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Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story Writer
Fansler, Harriott Ely
English prose literature; Storytelling
"I have worked at it for a long time. I have not yet accomplished
it, but I hope to. I am coming nearer to it every night in which
I can work. There are not many during the winter; the conditions
of atmosphere and temperature must be just right. On foggy nights,
or when the air is filled with light, flying snow--these are the
nights in which the little halos glow around the electric lights,
street-lamps, and lights in show-windows. Oh," he said, "they fill me
with a happiness and delight I cannot describe, as I try all kinds of
experiments to transfix the beautiful colors of their delicate rays!
"Let me show you," he went on, and he lifted one of the frames which
I have already described, covered with a thin parchment-like paper.
This he carefully buttoned to a groove in the window. On the surface
of the stretched parchment the little halo glowed with its prismatic
tints, and again I held my breath at the beauty of it. I, too, was
becoming a halo-worshiper. Then he lifted from the rack on the side,
and held up to the light, first one and then another of the frames, on
the parchment surface of which he had actually traced lines of color,
against the gloom beyond, radiating lines crossing and re-crossing,
glowing with rainbow tints seen through and against the window.
"Do you know anything of Frankenstein's wonderful Magic Reciprocals,
sometimes called Harmonic Responses?"[4] he asked. "How I longed for
his marvelous power, so that I might experiment with them. But they
were far beyond my skill, and also, perhaps, too scientific and
geometric for my purpose; and so I was forced to discard them and
begin afresh in my own way. I have had reasonable success, although
I have not yet reached the purity of color nor the brilliancy that I
wish. I do not know that mortal man ever can. I have tried all sorts
of experiments--lines of silver crossed with lines of gold; prismatic
threads of silk; and now I have abandoned them all, and am beginning
again, perhaps for the fortieth time. But if I am only able to do it,
nothing can give me greater happiness. I can close my eyes in peace at
last."
After he had shown me his experiments, he removed the little frame from
the window, closed the sliding shutter on the side, and, turning the
circular ventilator, asked the driver to drive on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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