Читать книгу Yellow Stonefly - Tim Poland - Страница 10

Keefe at His Workbench: Yellow Stonefly

Unwinding from the spool, each turn of the yellow drubbing thread tight and contiguous with the turn it follows. Turn after turn along the shank, beginning to hint at a body, accumulating into a simulation of the thorax of Suwallia pallidula, so favored by Salvelinus fontinalis. Tiny shock of hair from a squirrel tail, bleached and dried, every bit as good as elk hair, more fitting for being native to this place. The strands are bound to the body, ragged and unshaped, then tufted and trimmed to the swept-back likeness of the translucent double wings. Different strands, divergent shapes, various textures, wrought into an alternative configuration. A believable shape to tell a truthful tale in a fraudulent form. A practical beauty. A beautiful lie. An aggregate woven around that which gives it reason and function, woven around the . . . around the . . . the thing . . . What is the name? Must it have a name? Did it ever have a name? Woven around the thing that carries the shape yet is at the same time the core and purpose of the shape. The thing . . . it must have a name, somewhere in its delicate curve. The thing that anchors the design crafted to duplicate and deceive.