The four giraffes walked through the city, their metal limbs and their pulleys, gears and crankshafts clanking and whirring as they delicately placed one foot in front of another, and another and another and another.
As they ambled along, they turned their long heads from side to side and unfurled their long tongues to snatch bits of plants and flowers from upper storey window boxes and floral displays like you see around gastropubs. Sadly, there were no banana palm trees in this part of the city.
Some of the city inhabitants stopped to watch them pass by in their stately single file, while others ignored them. Some took photographs on their smartphones, and one even took a photo on a camera.
One giraffe said to the others, ‘The air up here stinks!’ ‘You’re telling me,’ said the one with the Rupert Bear scarf round his neck. ‘Maybe it will be better later.’
The journalists and TV crews arrived, and the giraffes turned to each other and shrugged: What’s the haps?
They journeyed on down the road. The city centre lay a bit further on down Switchback Road. They hoped for a decent view from there.
The man operating giraffe number 1, whose name was Yasbeh, the giraffe that is, got his phone out and photographed the TV people and their satellite dishes on their vans and their telephoto lenses and their bushy microphones. The young girl riding giraffe number 2, whose name was Bashda, yes, waved to the gathering crowds as the four beasts and their operators negotiated a wide traffic island. No police were attending, but vehicle drivers politely parted to let the little procession go by.
Talking of drivers, this was no camel-driving-caravanserai merchant-traders-across-the-desert business, it was more beautiful than those dirty dusty capitalist affairs. More balletic and more gainly.
The giraffe riders wore brightly coloured clothes as befits people celebrating summer and the marvels of engineering, in spite of it being winter. At the giant fir tree in the centre of the traffic island they had just passed, the giraffes had been straining their long necks to nibble the tree’s tempting fronds, nearly making the animals topple over with their lanky wobbling legs.
Some onlookers seemed puzzled about the machinery by which the giraffes were able to move in such a beautifully rhythmic fashion. But that’s technology for you.
Soon, the city harbour came into view. In the distance, if you climbed up the hill, you could see north all the way to the big heaving ocean, which was sometimes blue. But our little troupe of high-rise creatures was not going up the hill.
The city waterways opened before them, with rivers running into them and out of them, canals carved around them, bridges spanning them, the waters lined by jetties and wharves and all the bustle of harbour life in the century.
Seeing the harbourmaster, the operators flicked their little joysticks to steer the giraffes to the stone wharfside, in front of the industrial museum. From here, if you’re tall enough, you have a great view into the city centre and along the expanse of the harbour waters, to the western reaches. The giraffe operators enjoyed those views as the animals shuffled a bit to get lined up in a regimental line on the harbour’s edge. You know how it is.
Finally, they all faced the same way out over the water, each one a mirror image of the other and with exactly six point five metres between each of them. Old tram lines were set into the walkway along the wharf under the giraffes’ feet.
The gathered crowd applauded and whooped as the giraffes came to a motionless halt. A girl of eight with dark frizzy hair sat on her mother’s shoulders to have a better view. Three or four youngsters did a little dance and some teenagers zoomed off on skateboards.
The operators carefully climbed down to the wharfside on step ladders that the city’s officials had thoughtfully provided. They took a bow.
The winter sun made the harbour waters sparkle.
Image by R N from Pixabay – the heads of four giraffes gazing out with a blue sky behind them.
literally stories 
Alex
I can just see these wonderful machine creatures coming down the street. This piece creates a vivid mind movie.
So glad you called out to us from the unjust spam box.
Leila
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Hi Leila, Many thanks for rescuing the story from your spam box, Lelia! Very happy to see it here!. best wishes, Alex
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To Diane
One of your best headers. Love their expressions.
Leila
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Thank you – I did wonder about looking for images of some of the puppets that are around but I rather liked the idea of these guys and their look of puzzlement as if they had seen the imposters.
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Many thanks Diane, and Leila again, yes I love the 4 giraffes image 0 brilliant! best, Alex F.
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Hi Diane
You deserve more credit for all the wonderful images you conjure up. So thank you!
Dale
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Thank you
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A lovely piece that seems to have been inspired by those giant puppets that are now quite frequent sights around the world. Beautifully descriptive and I liked the lack of explanation or rationale – they just appear, walk through the city and stop at the water’s edge. Excellent!
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Very glad you like the story, Steven. Those fantastic – literally – giant puppets were at the back of my mind but the main inspiration has been spotted by my friend Mick Bloor in his comment here!
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Those huge puppets are beautifully remarkable, I have only seen film of them but would love to see them in the ‘fleshal’ and what a wonderful choice of creature because giraffes are actually rather other worldy anyway. This was a super read and the images were vivid and charming. Thank you – dd
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At the very outset, I had wondered if these were giant quadruped war machines (as in ‘The War of the Worlds’ & Star Wars). And at the close, they recalled the giant harbour cranes (like Glasgow’s Finnieston Crane, built to lift complete steam locomotives for export to Argentina and India). But in between, they were splendid carnival beings created for our delight. Great job, Alex.
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Hi Mick, glad you like the story, and thanks for your comments. I hadn’t thought of a war machine angle but like that you did! You’re spot on with the harbour cranes , the electric ones on Bristol (England) ‘s ‘floating harbour’ wharfside were the main inspiration. Cheers!
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Alex
The prose in this piece moves in a stately way that mirrors the action of the piece. As such, this reads like a poetic fable that explores the wonders of life as it is. No political screeds, no moaning and bemoaning the current state of affairs, more like a simple (in a good way) sense of wonder for the fact of being here at all. If not a fable, a contemporary fairy tale. Great opening and closing lines, too! And the simple yet exotic title is evocative. This has something of the mystery of a Rumi story-poem within it. Thanks!
Dale
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Dale,thank you for your interesting comments! Glad that you appreciated the story. I like the idea that the prose movement mirrors that of the animals, and if it has something of a contemporary fairytale, I’m happy about that.best, Alex.
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Playful, fanciful and surreal. I think it reveals our fascination with technology, even when it blurs the lines that separate art, nature and machine. Wonderful banner image.
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Thanks David. I like the idea that bringing human-made technology close to animals and nature shows how amazing animals truly are.
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Alex
Gainly, yes. Most gainly!
God stopped making giraffes millions of years ago when it became clear its design couldn’t be improved or spun off. I recently observed a zoo during a total eclipse of the sun. The animals, by species, adopted almost every behavior. The giraffes went to sleep. Delightful creatures. Delightful story! Lots of interesting word play. — Gerry
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Hi Hugh,
happy that you liked the little story and many thanks for taking the time to comment. best wishes
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Haha, great giraffes story, Gerry, thanks, (and sorry for the wayward reply earlier, meant for Hugh).
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Hi Alex,
Imaginative, descriptive and beautifully written.
This is one of the most visual pieces of writing that I’ve read for quite some time!!
All the very best.
Hugh
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Hi Hugh,happy that you liked the little story and many thanks for taking the time to comment. best wishes
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And now for something significantly different (Monte Python voice)
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🙂
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A lovely, quirky vignette of an unusual day in a seemingly normal town. Thoroughly enjoyed this one. I don’t know if you’ve read any Magnus Mills but reminded me of his brilliant writing in many ways.
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Glad you liked the story, Paulkimm. No I haven’t read anything of Magnus Mills, so – thanks for the tip!
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Great imagery. Reminds me of the old-time circus parades that used to wind through towns 100 years ago. Live, though, not mechanical. Perhaps these are the ghosts of ones past.
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