Shelly sat in the old cafeteria where nobody was allowed to sit; sitting in there would bring ruin.
She had found something that was hers. She clutched it to herself and began to cry.
As the tears fell to the soil, more things came to the surface to be found, things that shouldn't be found.
Things better left in the past.
One was a piece of inscribed glass that said The Love I Should Never. . . it crumbled to dust in my hand before I could finish reading it.
A doll turned to me and spoke, and i spoke back, silencing it.
I told her and Jessica to leave- I had to start it on fire.
I went to the wall and traced my fingertips in circles on it.
I stroked it slowly, encouraging it to ignite.
The wall bulged in a spot in front of my face, and a long forked tongue the size of my arm burst forth.
I caressed it, moving both hands up and down along its slippery wet length, feeling the dormant strength of it.
I knew who it belonged to.
Flames began to lick the wall where I had touched it, and I opened the cabinet to prepare the denizens for their awakening.
I bared my breasts.
I yanked the clothing and spite from Shelly and began to adorn her.
I placed an amber choker around her neck, an amber spiral around her arm, amber shackles around her ankles, an amber phallus into her vagina and I was interrupted before I could place the jewel on her brow.
Her forgiveness would not be complete, then.
A crowd still milled around, waiting to see what would happen.
I screamed for them to leave, but they couldn't hear me.
Fools. . .they would give up their lives for a good show?
I left them to regret their fate.
I turned back to the cabinet and the children had begun to crawl toward the doors.
One by one, I tore the flesh away from them and released the firey creatures trapped inside.
They skittered about, finally free, dripping trails of burning brimstone behind them.
The fire began in earnest.
I went back to the wall, stroking the tongue, and the owner began to emerge behind it.
He couldn't see me, but i could see him.
I pressed my naked breasts on him, crooning to him, willing him to see me.
My flesh seared where it met his.
Power coursed through me.
My mouth opened to say his name and complete the event.
Showing posts with label These Dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label These Dreams. Show all posts
Friday, February 4, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
It's Gotta Be Steaks
It was our turn to go get lunch. Everyone decided on Wendy's, so we got in the truck and started heading over there. Instead of pulling into the parking lot, he decided to keep going, because he had a better lunch idea.
"Steaks," he said to me, "fast food ain't no real lunch. It's gotta be steaks." I nodded my agreement, and we headed off to get some steaks. He drove by several grocery stores, and I watched them go by but didn't point it out.
"I want fresh steaks," he said, as though I'd pointed it out.
We pulled up to this ramshackle butcher shop and went inside. He was going to get the steaks, and I was going to procure the slaw. I went over to the counter where they sold the cold salads, and the old lady told me that they were fresh out of slaw just now, but if I wanted to wait an hour, they'd have some made up. I told her never-mind and went back to the meat counter where he had only ordered four steaks.
"We need five, Hip. You're forgetting Tanya," I reminded him.
"Make it five, Mister," he told the butcher, and he disappeared through the vertical plastic strips with the loin to cut us up five filets. While we were waiting, I told him there was no slaw, and that it would take an hour to make some more. I was itching to get back because we'd already been gone an hour and a half, and I knew our boss was gonna have fits as soon as we walked in.
He said he knew a place on the way back that had good slaw, and black eyed peas too, so we'd hit that place up when we left. The butcher came back and passed the steaks to us wrapped up neatly in spotless white paper. I always wondered how they kept that paper so crisp and white, with no evidence of the blood and carnage it concealed.
As the butcher rang us up I realized i'd forgotten to take up everyone's money, so I paid for half and he paid for half and we'd collect when we got back.
"How're we gonna cook these?"
He didn't answer. I climbed back into the truck with my neat little white package and glanced at my watch again; we'd been gone two hours now. It was one thirty, and Steve would have left by the time we got back; poor Steve. Working all day and not getting any lunch.
We pulled up to this little hole and he went inside to buy some slaw and peas. I waited out in the truck, wondering if the bunsen burner would cook a steak well enough or would it just burn the outside. I was kind of excited to try, because we'd never had occasion to use that bunsen burner as long as I'd been working there.
He tossed some bags over to me and hopped in behind them. They smelled like edible divinity.
"You cain't cook a steak over that thing," he said as though I'd suggested it out loud. As we drove back to the lab, he tried to convince me that if I douse the steak in enough worcestershire sauce, it would seem done and I wouldn't know the difference.
"Like how they do fish for sushi up in lime juice", he concluded. I was skeptical.
"Steaks," he said to me, "fast food ain't no real lunch. It's gotta be steaks." I nodded my agreement, and we headed off to get some steaks. He drove by several grocery stores, and I watched them go by but didn't point it out.
"I want fresh steaks," he said, as though I'd pointed it out.
We pulled up to this ramshackle butcher shop and went inside. He was going to get the steaks, and I was going to procure the slaw. I went over to the counter where they sold the cold salads, and the old lady told me that they were fresh out of slaw just now, but if I wanted to wait an hour, they'd have some made up. I told her never-mind and went back to the meat counter where he had only ordered four steaks.
"We need five, Hip. You're forgetting Tanya," I reminded him.
"Make it five, Mister," he told the butcher, and he disappeared through the vertical plastic strips with the loin to cut us up five filets. While we were waiting, I told him there was no slaw, and that it would take an hour to make some more. I was itching to get back because we'd already been gone an hour and a half, and I knew our boss was gonna have fits as soon as we walked in.
He said he knew a place on the way back that had good slaw, and black eyed peas too, so we'd hit that place up when we left. The butcher came back and passed the steaks to us wrapped up neatly in spotless white paper. I always wondered how they kept that paper so crisp and white, with no evidence of the blood and carnage it concealed.
As the butcher rang us up I realized i'd forgotten to take up everyone's money, so I paid for half and he paid for half and we'd collect when we got back.
"How're we gonna cook these?"
He didn't answer. I climbed back into the truck with my neat little white package and glanced at my watch again; we'd been gone two hours now. It was one thirty, and Steve would have left by the time we got back; poor Steve. Working all day and not getting any lunch.
We pulled up to this little hole and he went inside to buy some slaw and peas. I waited out in the truck, wondering if the bunsen burner would cook a steak well enough or would it just burn the outside. I was kind of excited to try, because we'd never had occasion to use that bunsen burner as long as I'd been working there.
He tossed some bags over to me and hopped in behind them. They smelled like edible divinity.
"You cain't cook a steak over that thing," he said as though I'd suggested it out loud. As we drove back to the lab, he tried to convince me that if I douse the steak in enough worcestershire sauce, it would seem done and I wouldn't know the difference.
"Like how they do fish for sushi up in lime juice", he concluded. I was skeptical.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Empty Tub
"You've grown awfully lazy recently," he observed coolly.
She glared resentfully up at him from behind her mask of impassiveness. He knew it was her distaste for repetition that stayed her tongue, not laziness, but he was intentionally provoking her. He longed for her to get up and scream at him; to slap him, or to laugh or cry. Even a sneer. Any reaction at all was better than this stony aloofness.
What he didn't know was the nameless, faceless horror that oppressed her dreams whenever she drifted off to sleep. She would try to scream herself awake, but fear paralyzed her as the blackness crept into her opened mouth and down her throat, choking her. It pressed against the inside of her chest from her lungs and sat on the outside of it, crushing her and eating her simultaneously. It had finally driven her early from their bed. She didn't tell him. She was afraid if she tried, the darkness would pour from her mouth instead of words, and then they'd both perish. It was better this way.
Instead, she said, "You're the one who interrupted my bath asking for a cup of tea. If you want me to make it, then you'll bring me the kettle." She said it slowly, like an adult trying to instruct a slow child, dangling the empty cup from her little finger to emphasize her point. He didn't move for a few moments, staring down at her, trying to rip the truth from her empty face.
"Say it," she ordered tonelessly.
He remained silent. The accusation was on the tip of his brain, aching to burst its way out, but he couldn't bring himself to commit to that final act that would be the destruction of them. If he verbalized what he woke up condemning her for. . .
"Say it, or get the fuck out of my face."
Burning love warred with smoldering hate across the battlefield of his countenance; twins turned against one another, neither stronger than the other. Neither capable of defeating the other. He wanted her to care that she was hurting him. Her apathetic face mocked his pain-stricken face, he felt. He turned abruptly from her, leaving her in her empty tub.
She wondered fleetingly if he would actually bring the kettle, and whether she should have asked for the leaves as well. She knew he'd be angry when she sent him back, but she couldn't find the strength to care. She pushed him easily out of her mind to continue staring at the faucet. She wanted to turn it on, she was cold. But she was afraid the darkness would flood out of it instead of water. She shivered.
She glared resentfully up at him from behind her mask of impassiveness. He knew it was her distaste for repetition that stayed her tongue, not laziness, but he was intentionally provoking her. He longed for her to get up and scream at him; to slap him, or to laugh or cry. Even a sneer. Any reaction at all was better than this stony aloofness.
What he didn't know was the nameless, faceless horror that oppressed her dreams whenever she drifted off to sleep. She would try to scream herself awake, but fear paralyzed her as the blackness crept into her opened mouth and down her throat, choking her. It pressed against the inside of her chest from her lungs and sat on the outside of it, crushing her and eating her simultaneously. It had finally driven her early from their bed. She didn't tell him. She was afraid if she tried, the darkness would pour from her mouth instead of words, and then they'd both perish. It was better this way.
Instead, she said, "You're the one who interrupted my bath asking for a cup of tea. If you want me to make it, then you'll bring me the kettle." She said it slowly, like an adult trying to instruct a slow child, dangling the empty cup from her little finger to emphasize her point. He didn't move for a few moments, staring down at her, trying to rip the truth from her empty face.
"Say it," she ordered tonelessly.
He remained silent. The accusation was on the tip of his brain, aching to burst its way out, but he couldn't bring himself to commit to that final act that would be the destruction of them. If he verbalized what he woke up condemning her for. . .
"Say it, or get the fuck out of my face."
Burning love warred with smoldering hate across the battlefield of his countenance; twins turned against one another, neither stronger than the other. Neither capable of defeating the other. He wanted her to care that she was hurting him. Her apathetic face mocked his pain-stricken face, he felt. He turned abruptly from her, leaving her in her empty tub.
She wondered fleetingly if he would actually bring the kettle, and whether she should have asked for the leaves as well. She knew he'd be angry when she sent him back, but she couldn't find the strength to care. She pushed him easily out of her mind to continue staring at the faucet. She wanted to turn it on, she was cold. But she was afraid the darkness would flood out of it instead of water. She shivered.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Random Snippets
I went to put the cap on my marker when he stopped me.
"Wait," he said to me, reaching for the marker in my hand. I pulled the cap back off for him and held it up so he could see it better. He grinned and pulled the cap off of his marker to reveal a nib that was at least an inch longer than mine.
"Oh, great, now i have size issues," i harumphed at him.
*****
"WHO FUCKED UP THE ST. CATHERINE BOXES?! AND WHAT'S FOR LUNCH, GODDAMN IT?!"
"I don't know, Scott! Jesus! And how are those two questions even related?"
A moment of tense silence ensues, and everyone bursts out laughing.
*****
He grasped my hair and yanked my head back. A gasp of fear escaped my lips as his eyes probed, and then saw right through me. His stony expression melted slightly, confusion beginning to colour his pallor.
"Just a little taste then. I have to know, i have to taste," he murmured as his fangs protruded. I went limp in his arms. There was nothing left to fear. He slowly bent his face down to mine, and he began smelling me behind my ears. Then down to my neck and up my chin to my lips. He touched his fangs to my lips ever-so gently.
"Just a little taste," he assured me again, and i felt the smallest pricking in my lower lip as he carried out his promise. He retracted his fangs like a cat sheathing its claws and began to lick my lips, and then to kiss me deeply.
*****
I dialed the number to bring the elevator up from the secret basement. I knew they were monitoring, and that when i did this, i would confirm their suspicions. But i had no choice. I had to get away, and where else could i go?
*****
I felt it eating its way through me, the burning, gnawing pain in my stomach broadcasting its progress. I fell to my knees, clutching my stomach, thinking that this isn't how it was supposed to be.
"Wait," he said to me, reaching for the marker in my hand. I pulled the cap back off for him and held it up so he could see it better. He grinned and pulled the cap off of his marker to reveal a nib that was at least an inch longer than mine.
"Oh, great, now i have size issues," i harumphed at him.
*****
"WHO FUCKED UP THE ST. CATHERINE BOXES?! AND WHAT'S FOR LUNCH, GODDAMN IT?!"
"I don't know, Scott! Jesus! And how are those two questions even related?"
A moment of tense silence ensues, and everyone bursts out laughing.
*****
He grasped my hair and yanked my head back. A gasp of fear escaped my lips as his eyes probed, and then saw right through me. His stony expression melted slightly, confusion beginning to colour his pallor.
"Just a little taste then. I have to know, i have to taste," he murmured as his fangs protruded. I went limp in his arms. There was nothing left to fear. He slowly bent his face down to mine, and he began smelling me behind my ears. Then down to my neck and up my chin to my lips. He touched his fangs to my lips ever-so gently.
"Just a little taste," he assured me again, and i felt the smallest pricking in my lower lip as he carried out his promise. He retracted his fangs like a cat sheathing its claws and began to lick my lips, and then to kiss me deeply.
*****
I dialed the number to bring the elevator up from the secret basement. I knew they were monitoring, and that when i did this, i would confirm their suspicions. But i had no choice. I had to get away, and where else could i go?
*****
I felt it eating its way through me, the burning, gnawing pain in my stomach broadcasting its progress. I fell to my knees, clutching my stomach, thinking that this isn't how it was supposed to be.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Supernova
It's happening!!!!! she thought excitedly, hunkering down a little more securely into her paper cup as the rumbling underneath her confirmed her cause for elation. She looked up at the violet sky and the twinkling stars, admiring their beauty and brightness as she felt the pressure building beneath her. Her paper cup rocked on waters that were steadily and swiftly becoming less gentle.
Without warning, jets of water shot up beneath her cup, hurling her vessel toward the sky. Higher and higher she surged, her giddiness threatening with every passing second to overcome and consume her. She turned her eyes back to the violet firmament, which seemed closer and more inviting.
Her giddiness peaked into ecstasy as the heavens opened its arms and gathered her to its breast, spilling her cup and sending it back to the sea empty. She sailed ever higher, head thrown back, eyes wide open, and heart beating against her ribs. She had no thoughts for her discarded vessel or the water that propelled it.
The violet deepened into black as she ascended, the moment when she, too, would twinkle down at the earth rushing to meet her. As she and her moment collided, her heart, no longer able to contain this bliss, ruptured. She smiled beatifically and threw hear arms open to surrender her body to the supernova. Her soul blazed brightly among the stars, joining them forever.
I've made it.
Without warning, jets of water shot up beneath her cup, hurling her vessel toward the sky. Higher and higher she surged, her giddiness threatening with every passing second to overcome and consume her. She turned her eyes back to the violet firmament, which seemed closer and more inviting.
Her giddiness peaked into ecstasy as the heavens opened its arms and gathered her to its breast, spilling her cup and sending it back to the sea empty. She sailed ever higher, head thrown back, eyes wide open, and heart beating against her ribs. She had no thoughts for her discarded vessel or the water that propelled it.
The violet deepened into black as she ascended, the moment when she, too, would twinkle down at the earth rushing to meet her. As she and her moment collided, her heart, no longer able to contain this bliss, ruptured. She smiled beatifically and threw hear arms open to surrender her body to the supernova. Her soul blazed brightly among the stars, joining them forever.
I've made it.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Fire
I let my head roll back, and around, stretching out the kinks. Relaxing. Preparing. The fire burnt small and bright before me, waiting. Relaxing. Preparing.
I felt the emotion draining out of me in rivulets; tiny, slick drops like beads speeding their way like quicksilver to the fire. Feeding it. I directed my attention to the small aperture they'd found, widening it, slowly turning the rivulet into a raging torrent. I felt surprised for a fleeting moment that i could be such a vast reservoir of conflict. Surprise dropped into the rapids, running out of me with all the others, and rushed toward the fire.
The fire took me in greedily. It became more vivid, more itself without changing at all. It gained in presence until the few meager flames felt like they were taking up the whole world, and pushing against its confines. It was wrong to immure a fire this way.
My empty vessel sat before this tiny everything. I opened myself up to it, and took it in, catching an evanescent glimpse of the fire's trueself and scale. I recognized myself in the fire, and wondered at my immensity as it rushed into me, first in rivulets, then a raging torrent. It entered and filled me easily, but didn't burn. It was only me, and i was imprisoning myself.
I felt the emotion draining out of me in rivulets; tiny, slick drops like beads speeding their way like quicksilver to the fire. Feeding it. I directed my attention to the small aperture they'd found, widening it, slowly turning the rivulet into a raging torrent. I felt surprised for a fleeting moment that i could be such a vast reservoir of conflict. Surprise dropped into the rapids, running out of me with all the others, and rushed toward the fire.
The fire took me in greedily. It became more vivid, more itself without changing at all. It gained in presence until the few meager flames felt like they were taking up the whole world, and pushing against its confines. It was wrong to immure a fire this way.
My empty vessel sat before this tiny everything. I opened myself up to it, and took it in, catching an evanescent glimpse of the fire's trueself and scale. I recognized myself in the fire, and wondered at my immensity as it rushed into me, first in rivulets, then a raging torrent. It entered and filled me easily, but didn't burn. It was only me, and i was imprisoning myself.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Pawn Shop
"Have you got any bullets for this gun?"
He looked over at me and the gun in my hand with a puzzled expression.
"What gun? You've got a wrench in your hand."
I looked down at the instrument of death in my hand. Huh, he was right. It WAS a wrench. I was dismayed.
"How the fuck am i supposed to rob a pawn shop with a wrench?!"
"Just stick it in your pocket and point it at them. They'll just THINK it's a gun."
I groaned at him. "That's so cheesy! Only some asshole in a movie would do that!"
"Well, you're stuck. They don't make bullets for wrenches. Here, put this on." He handed me something that looked like a shower cap with a face mask attached.
"What's this?"
"It's an anti-DNA identity protection device. They won't be able to identify you, and you won't leave any DNA at the scene."
"It looks like a shower cap with some eye-holes cut out."
"It is. I made it myself."
I had to admit, i was impressed. "Good idea!" I put it on, and i instantly felt like no hair or face skin would be left on our victims' counter top. I looked over at him. He had put his on too, but i could still discern his ethnicity. I opened my mouth to point this out, and then closed it, as it couldn't really be helped anyhow. I hoped the pawn shop people weren't getting suspicious of us. We'd been sitting outside in this car making our preparations for quite some time now, after all. I thought i'd be nervous if i were a pawn shop person watching two jerks in a car outside putting on masks and conversing as long as we had been.
"Ready check," he said to me.
I took a deep breath and nodded to him. We got out of the car and rushed inside the pawnshop, him brandishing his gun, and me poking my wrench as far forward in my pocket as it would go, hoping it looked like a gun, and glad they couldn't see my face painted with embarrassment. It really was a cheesy thing to do. So cliche.
He approached the counter, looking rather like a badass who'd done this before. He thrust a Walmart bag toward the clerk and demanded the money. The clerk looked apprehensively at the register, and back at my partner, like he wanted to say something. He decided, at last, to do so.
"Er, you won't need the bag. I can just put it right in your hand." He proceeded to open the register and dump the contents into my partner's outstretched hand. I looked at his hand and did a mental tabulation that was probaby far off its mark, as badly as i suck at math in my head. Anyhow, it looked to be about thirty eight cents in nickels and pennies.
"What the fuck is this?!" i demanded.
"What, you think you're the only one having a bad economy? People pawn their shit, take my money, and then don't pay on the loans. Then i'm stuck with all this bullshit no one wants to buy!" He gestured around at the shop. I looked at the items for sale and realized he was right: it WAS a bunch of bullshit no one would want to buy; the place resembled a picked-over thrift store more than a pawnshop.
"Well why the hell are you lending people money for shit you know you can't sell?!"
He glared at me. "SO SORRY for making business choices that would impede your score!"
I menacingly thrust the wrench farther forward in my pocket. "You'd better be glad i don't shoot you out of frustration!"
His lip curled. "You can't shoot someone with a wrench, moron."
Moron?! This wasn't even my fucking idea!! I pulled the trigger and shot him twice in his bad-business-decision-making head. He stood there looking at me, the surprise slowly draining from his face like blood from the wounds i'd inflicted. He fell to the ground behind the counter. I pulled the wrench out of my pocket and looked at it. Huh. Guess it was a gun, after all.
He looked over at me and the gun in my hand with a puzzled expression.
"What gun? You've got a wrench in your hand."
I looked down at the instrument of death in my hand. Huh, he was right. It WAS a wrench. I was dismayed.
"How the fuck am i supposed to rob a pawn shop with a wrench?!"
"Just stick it in your pocket and point it at them. They'll just THINK it's a gun."
I groaned at him. "That's so cheesy! Only some asshole in a movie would do that!"
"Well, you're stuck. They don't make bullets for wrenches. Here, put this on." He handed me something that looked like a shower cap with a face mask attached.
"What's this?"
"It's an anti-DNA identity protection device. They won't be able to identify you, and you won't leave any DNA at the scene."
"It looks like a shower cap with some eye-holes cut out."
"It is. I made it myself."
I had to admit, i was impressed. "Good idea!" I put it on, and i instantly felt like no hair or face skin would be left on our victims' counter top. I looked over at him. He had put his on too, but i could still discern his ethnicity. I opened my mouth to point this out, and then closed it, as it couldn't really be helped anyhow. I hoped the pawn shop people weren't getting suspicious of us. We'd been sitting outside in this car making our preparations for quite some time now, after all. I thought i'd be nervous if i were a pawn shop person watching two jerks in a car outside putting on masks and conversing as long as we had been.
"Ready check," he said to me.
I took a deep breath and nodded to him. We got out of the car and rushed inside the pawnshop, him brandishing his gun, and me poking my wrench as far forward in my pocket as it would go, hoping it looked like a gun, and glad they couldn't see my face painted with embarrassment. It really was a cheesy thing to do. So cliche.
He approached the counter, looking rather like a badass who'd done this before. He thrust a Walmart bag toward the clerk and demanded the money. The clerk looked apprehensively at the register, and back at my partner, like he wanted to say something. He decided, at last, to do so.
"Er, you won't need the bag. I can just put it right in your hand." He proceeded to open the register and dump the contents into my partner's outstretched hand. I looked at his hand and did a mental tabulation that was probaby far off its mark, as badly as i suck at math in my head. Anyhow, it looked to be about thirty eight cents in nickels and pennies.
"What the fuck is this?!" i demanded.
"What, you think you're the only one having a bad economy? People pawn their shit, take my money, and then don't pay on the loans. Then i'm stuck with all this bullshit no one wants to buy!" He gestured around at the shop. I looked at the items for sale and realized he was right: it WAS a bunch of bullshit no one would want to buy; the place resembled a picked-over thrift store more than a pawnshop.
"Well why the hell are you lending people money for shit you know you can't sell?!"
He glared at me. "SO SORRY for making business choices that would impede your score!"
I menacingly thrust the wrench farther forward in my pocket. "You'd better be glad i don't shoot you out of frustration!"
His lip curled. "You can't shoot someone with a wrench, moron."
Moron?! This wasn't even my fucking idea!! I pulled the trigger and shot him twice in his bad-business-decision-making head. He stood there looking at me, the surprise slowly draining from his face like blood from the wounds i'd inflicted. He fell to the ground behind the counter. I pulled the wrench out of my pocket and looked at it. Huh. Guess it was a gun, after all.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Lavateria
I'd begun to feel like a stalker, but i couldn't help myself. I was back at the Lavateria again, sitting on the floor slumped against a washing machine, staring at the one on the corner directly opposite me.
To the casual observer, it was nothing special; just the average, every day coin-operated Speed Queen- super capacity. To the slightly-more-observant observer, it was the only machine in the place that still only cost seventy five cents. The rest had been raised to a dollar twenty five.
To me, it was our washing machine. Ours. I said it aloud, to taste it in my mouth. Ours. Saying it didn't bring back the taste of him.
I pretended to wonder if he ever came here to look at this machine and reminisce the way i did, knowing damn well that he didn't. As often as i found myself sitting in this spot with a lit, unsmoked cigarette slowly burning itself to ashes between my fingers, i'd have seen him if he did.
I pretended to wonder if he ever tried to recall my taste in his mouth the way i did his, knowing damn well that he didn't. I was just temporary. I was an amusement. A distraction to occupy the fortyfiveish minutes it took for his clothes to dry. I was a magazine, lying on a table top in a dentist's office: there to pass the time, and then to be discarded and forgotten once the time had been passed. I wondered briefly if the magazines recalled every person who caressed their flimsy, gaudy jackets, however briefly.
I stood up, stubbed out my cigarette, and the thought along with it.
To the casual observer, it was nothing special; just the average, every day coin-operated Speed Queen- super capacity. To the slightly-more-observant observer, it was the only machine in the place that still only cost seventy five cents. The rest had been raised to a dollar twenty five.
To me, it was our washing machine. Ours. I said it aloud, to taste it in my mouth. Ours. Saying it didn't bring back the taste of him.
I pretended to wonder if he ever came here to look at this machine and reminisce the way i did, knowing damn well that he didn't. As often as i found myself sitting in this spot with a lit, unsmoked cigarette slowly burning itself to ashes between my fingers, i'd have seen him if he did.
I pretended to wonder if he ever tried to recall my taste in his mouth the way i did his, knowing damn well that he didn't. I was just temporary. I was an amusement. A distraction to occupy the fortyfiveish minutes it took for his clothes to dry. I was a magazine, lying on a table top in a dentist's office: there to pass the time, and then to be discarded and forgotten once the time had been passed. I wondered briefly if the magazines recalled every person who caressed their flimsy, gaudy jackets, however briefly.
I stood up, stubbed out my cigarette, and the thought along with it.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Intervention
Disclaimer: If you don't play World of Warcraft (or any other online RPGs), you probably won't get this. Proceed at the risk of feeling like you wasted your time at the end.
"Honey, can i talk to you?"
"Just a sec, i'm almost done with my dailies," i replied vaguely, not even aware that it wasn't my husband addressing me.
We were sitting in my living room together, playing WoW, as usual. I glanced over at her to see if she was almost done, when it finally sunk in that it was not Jim's voice speaking to me. I turned around to find both of our families gathered behind us, myriad emotions playing across their anxious faces. I turned back to my screen to send Jin a tell.
You tell Jinsha: Hey, Rob and your kids are here.
Jinsha tells you: Rly? What do they want?
You tell Jinsha: Idk, maybe you should ask them.
Jinsha tells you: Just a sec, boss fight.
You tell Jinsha: Kk, i'll tell them you're afk.
Jinsha tells you: Ty!
I decided to go and sell before finding out what they were all standing behind me for, when i remembered i'd gotten some BOE blues that i wanted to put up on the auction house and some greens i still needed to disenchant ("i'm running SO low on infinite dust, and . . . .")
A less-than-subtle-throat-clearing reminded me that i had company. I decided to sell later.
"Jinsha is in a boss fight, she'll be right with you," i said matter of factly to Rob, turning my office chair to face him. I hoped that he caught the tiny note of irritation i'd intentionally coloured my tone with.
"Yes, i can see that. And her name's Angie, not Jinsha."
"You know what i mean."
Our screens simultaneously went dark, and Angie's head jerked up, her face a dark storm of rage. Jim stood there with the plug of the power strip dangling from his hand, annoyance and sadness warring on his face.
"Wtf, babe?!" i demanded.
"This is an intervention."
"For what?!"
"Your WOW addiction," Liz answered sadly, "You don't even tuck me in anymore!"
And with that introduction, the litany of grievances began. One after another, each of them unloaded their pleas, their complaints, their tears, and then, finally, their judgments. They'd already booked our stay at a rehab facility for recovering WoW addicts.
"But i'm not addicted," Angie burst out next to me, cutting Ryan off in mid sentence. I looked at her, sitting in her computer chair in her comfy clothes and her Depends. I realized i, too, was wearing Depends.
Huh. Maybe they had a point.
They dropped us off the next day.
"Gay," Angie remarked as the car pulled off.
"Inorite," i responded, picking up my suitcase. I wondered briefly how long i'd be in that dreary looking building we stood outside of.
"Look, it's not just a rehab facility, it's a Weight Watcher's fat farm too!" she noted.
"Oh, well that's a bonus."
We checked in and looked around us. Wandering aimlessly throughout the facility were people talking into unplugged microphone headsets; raid planners were furiously carving their schedules into table tops, occasionally blurting out demands that the DPS "pick it up"; PvPers threw random items of clothing at each other, yelling "I got you! That was a crit, you're a dead motherfucker!"; people were walking slowly and jerkily down hall ways, obviously accustomed to slower connection speeds. Angie looked upon these in pity.
"Lag sucks," she lamented. I /nodded at her.
"These people are freakshows, let's room together," i suggested. She /agreed. We set off to unpack our things.
As i was putting the last of my clothes away, annoyed at the people who drifted in and out of my room doing ridiculous things, a small girl wandered in. She was about four years old and so skinny she looked like she hadn't eaten a thing in her entire life. She followed Angie around the room, telling her, "I'm so fat. . . i can barely stand to look at myself. How can you stand to be in the same room with all this fat? How can you even LOOK at me without throwing up?!" She burst into tears, and i said "Ditch the kid before i kill it." Angie murmured comforting things to the little girl, then shoved her out the door and slammed it behind her.
"Why are all these people so fucking irritating?!"
"Right?! i can't wait to get out already. Let's get something to eat, i'm starving. I only got to eat 3 points this morning," i complained.
She looked at me, horrified. "We can't go to the dining room! Don't you remember?? We have to go through The Gauntlet to get there!"
"Oh, right, i forgot!"
I crept to the door, opened it a crack, and peered both directions down the hall way. It looked clear enough, though extraordinarily dreary. The walls were institution-green, and the paint was peeling off in small patches. The windows that lined the hall were grimy. I thought briefly that if you rubbed away some of the grime, you'd be able to count the dirt layers like tree rings to determine the age of the last cleaning. After a moment, i realized this was extremely odd, given how crowded and loud it'd been in the facility up till just now. It smelled like a trap, but my stomach was growing steadily more aggressive.
"The coast looks clear," i offered.
She looked at me like i'd just grown another head. "Of COURSE it looks clear! That's what they WANT you to think!" Her exclamation was punctuated by a sharp protesting sound coming from the vicinity of her stomach.
"You have stomach aggro too," i pointed out. She didn't reply.
I slowly opened the door and crept outside. Nothing happened. I took a few steps down the hall. Still nothing. I started jogging slowly down the hall when i got the feeling i was in danger. I broke into a dead run as people burst through those ancient windows and began attacking me. I started fighting them off, but i couldn't take a hit worth a damn and started losing health rapidly after i killed the sixth one. "HELP, ANG, MY DPS SUCKS ASS!!!" i screamed. I realized these weren't even mobs, they were just other residents trying to get to the dining room.
"I'm coming!"
She landed a crit heal on me and helped me take out the remaining people. We staggered into the dining room, bloodied and exhausted.
"Killing people is excellent cardio," she remarked.
"Good resistance training too," i agreed, noting the other triumphant Gauntlet runners stumbling into the dining room. I looked past the other would-be diners and saw with a sinking feeling that dinner would be a buffet.
"Great, what a waste of time and effort," i grumbled, "I hate buffets."
I sat down at a table to order our beverages, and Angie called back to me, "It's even worse than you thought. . . come look at this." I went over to check it out, and all hope for a satisfying meal left me. There was about 800 varieties of sugar free Jello, cut to look like regular food.
"Great. I'm going to the bathroom," i muttered as Angie heaped some yellow corn-on-the-cob shaped jello onto her plate. I walked across the room and opened a door with a large W C painted on it, and was immediately confused by what i saw. There was no toilet; just a slotted bench sitting on a tiled floor with a large drain in the center. On the wall facing the bench was a shower head that ran continuously.
"What the hell is this?!" i fumed as another bruised diner walked past me with his jello selection piled high on his plate. He looked inside and looked back at me.
"Didn't you read the door? It's a water closet, what's it look like?"
"Where's the toilet?"
"No, you just take off your pants, sit on the bench, and do your business. The water will rinse it down the drain."
". . . but where's the toilet?"
"There aren't any. We can't have toilet paper, or people will eat it and get fat."
"What do you do if you have to. . . you know, Number Two?"
The diner looked at his plate of jello and back at me, and burst into hysterical laughter as he walked away. It took me a minute to understand what was so damn funny.
"Honey, can i talk to you?"
"Just a sec, i'm almost done with my dailies," i replied vaguely, not even aware that it wasn't my husband addressing me.
We were sitting in my living room together, playing WoW, as usual. I glanced over at her to see if she was almost done, when it finally sunk in that it was not Jim's voice speaking to me. I turned around to find both of our families gathered behind us, myriad emotions playing across their anxious faces. I turned back to my screen to send Jin a tell.
You tell Jinsha: Hey, Rob and your kids are here.
Jinsha tells you: Rly? What do they want?
You tell Jinsha: Idk, maybe you should ask them.
Jinsha tells you: Just a sec, boss fight.
You tell Jinsha: Kk, i'll tell them you're afk.
Jinsha tells you: Ty!
I decided to go and sell before finding out what they were all standing behind me for, when i remembered i'd gotten some BOE blues that i wanted to put up on the auction house and some greens i still needed to disenchant ("i'm running SO low on infinite dust, and . . . .")
A less-than-subtle-throat-clearing reminded me that i had company. I decided to sell later.
"Jinsha is in a boss fight, she'll be right with you," i said matter of factly to Rob, turning my office chair to face him. I hoped that he caught the tiny note of irritation i'd intentionally coloured my tone with.
"Yes, i can see that. And her name's Angie, not Jinsha."
"You know what i mean."
Our screens simultaneously went dark, and Angie's head jerked up, her face a dark storm of rage. Jim stood there with the plug of the power strip dangling from his hand, annoyance and sadness warring on his face.
"Wtf, babe?!" i demanded.
"This is an intervention."
"For what?!"
"Your WOW addiction," Liz answered sadly, "You don't even tuck me in anymore!"
And with that introduction, the litany of grievances began. One after another, each of them unloaded their pleas, their complaints, their tears, and then, finally, their judgments. They'd already booked our stay at a rehab facility for recovering WoW addicts.
"But i'm not addicted," Angie burst out next to me, cutting Ryan off in mid sentence. I looked at her, sitting in her computer chair in her comfy clothes and her Depends. I realized i, too, was wearing Depends.
Huh. Maybe they had a point.
They dropped us off the next day.
"Gay," Angie remarked as the car pulled off.
"Inorite," i responded, picking up my suitcase. I wondered briefly how long i'd be in that dreary looking building we stood outside of.
"Look, it's not just a rehab facility, it's a Weight Watcher's fat farm too!" she noted.
"Oh, well that's a bonus."
We checked in and looked around us. Wandering aimlessly throughout the facility were people talking into unplugged microphone headsets; raid planners were furiously carving their schedules into table tops, occasionally blurting out demands that the DPS "pick it up"; PvPers threw random items of clothing at each other, yelling "I got you! That was a crit, you're a dead motherfucker!"; people were walking slowly and jerkily down hall ways, obviously accustomed to slower connection speeds. Angie looked upon these in pity.
"Lag sucks," she lamented. I /nodded at her.
"These people are freakshows, let's room together," i suggested. She /agreed. We set off to unpack our things.
As i was putting the last of my clothes away, annoyed at the people who drifted in and out of my room doing ridiculous things, a small girl wandered in. She was about four years old and so skinny she looked like she hadn't eaten a thing in her entire life. She followed Angie around the room, telling her, "I'm so fat. . . i can barely stand to look at myself. How can you stand to be in the same room with all this fat? How can you even LOOK at me without throwing up?!" She burst into tears, and i said "Ditch the kid before i kill it." Angie murmured comforting things to the little girl, then shoved her out the door and slammed it behind her.
"Why are all these people so fucking irritating?!"
"Right?! i can't wait to get out already. Let's get something to eat, i'm starving. I only got to eat 3 points this morning," i complained.
She looked at me, horrified. "We can't go to the dining room! Don't you remember?? We have to go through The Gauntlet to get there!"
"Oh, right, i forgot!"
I crept to the door, opened it a crack, and peered both directions down the hall way. It looked clear enough, though extraordinarily dreary. The walls were institution-green, and the paint was peeling off in small patches. The windows that lined the hall were grimy. I thought briefly that if you rubbed away some of the grime, you'd be able to count the dirt layers like tree rings to determine the age of the last cleaning. After a moment, i realized this was extremely odd, given how crowded and loud it'd been in the facility up till just now. It smelled like a trap, but my stomach was growing steadily more aggressive.
"The coast looks clear," i offered.
She looked at me like i'd just grown another head. "Of COURSE it looks clear! That's what they WANT you to think!" Her exclamation was punctuated by a sharp protesting sound coming from the vicinity of her stomach.
"You have stomach aggro too," i pointed out. She didn't reply.
I slowly opened the door and crept outside. Nothing happened. I took a few steps down the hall. Still nothing. I started jogging slowly down the hall when i got the feeling i was in danger. I broke into a dead run as people burst through those ancient windows and began attacking me. I started fighting them off, but i couldn't take a hit worth a damn and started losing health rapidly after i killed the sixth one. "HELP, ANG, MY DPS SUCKS ASS!!!" i screamed. I realized these weren't even mobs, they were just other residents trying to get to the dining room.
"I'm coming!"
She landed a crit heal on me and helped me take out the remaining people. We staggered into the dining room, bloodied and exhausted.
"Killing people is excellent cardio," she remarked.
"Good resistance training too," i agreed, noting the other triumphant Gauntlet runners stumbling into the dining room. I looked past the other would-be diners and saw with a sinking feeling that dinner would be a buffet.
"Great, what a waste of time and effort," i grumbled, "I hate buffets."
I sat down at a table to order our beverages, and Angie called back to me, "It's even worse than you thought. . . come look at this." I went over to check it out, and all hope for a satisfying meal left me. There was about 800 varieties of sugar free Jello, cut to look like regular food.
"Great. I'm going to the bathroom," i muttered as Angie heaped some yellow corn-on-the-cob shaped jello onto her plate. I walked across the room and opened a door with a large W C painted on it, and was immediately confused by what i saw. There was no toilet; just a slotted bench sitting on a tiled floor with a large drain in the center. On the wall facing the bench was a shower head that ran continuously.
"What the hell is this?!" i fumed as another bruised diner walked past me with his jello selection piled high on his plate. He looked inside and looked back at me.
"Didn't you read the door? It's a water closet, what's it look like?"
"Where's the toilet?"
"No, you just take off your pants, sit on the bench, and do your business. The water will rinse it down the drain."
". . . but where's the toilet?"
"There aren't any. We can't have toilet paper, or people will eat it and get fat."
"What do you do if you have to. . . you know, Number Two?"
The diner looked at his plate of jello and back at me, and burst into hysterical laughter as he walked away. It took me a minute to understand what was so damn funny.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Part One
I was dead and i knew it. I could recall all the minutiae of the life i'd just lived, even the things i thought i'd forgotten, in vivid detail, with a vague nostalgia, but devoid of most of the poignant emotions i'd experienced while living through them. Sure, i'd miss living that life. I'd been happy. For the most part. But here is where i found myself, standing in a crowd of people i didn't know, about to share with them a fate i couldn't have imagined a few minutes ago.
The place i was in was sort of a landing station. People sat around at picnic tables, some talking in low voices amongst each other, some staring straight ahead, some were praying quietly to themselves, but no one was displaying any kind of intense emotion. There was an air of anticipation, and i felt a little keyed up as i surveyed the recently dead. I walked past groups of them, catching snippets of conversation that meant nothing to me, and i let them filter out of me as easily as they'd drifted in. I could tell some of them had been here for days, and some were new arrivals like myself. Across the courtyard, i could see the door to . . . wherever it is i was supposed to end up. The door and the building were nondescript, and i knew this courtyard was just a waiting area for that nondescript building. I took a seat among some of the speculators.
"I hear that most people die in there," one man said nervously.
"Horse shit, we already dead," scoffed an older man. When i looked at him, i had the feeling he'd been blind during his life, but he was not blind now.
"No, it's true!" the first man insisted, "I hear that most people are too scared to move, and they just. . go away. You got to run once you get there if you want another chance."
"So what if we do go away? God will not let any harm come to me," a small girl said, a bit defiantly.
With no cue, half of us from the table stood up and began making our way toward the building. Conversation halted, envy and apprehension warring on the faces of those remaining as they watched us depart. I turned to look back at them again, and they'd already forgotten we were ever there. As i turned back toward the building, the nervous man nudged me.
"When you get there, run. It's the only way," he whispered out of the side of his mouth, his lips barely betraying that he'd spoken at all.
I nodded, not certain whether i was humouring him or whether i planned to take his advice. I supposed it would depend on what i found there.
My eyes had little difficulty adjusting to the vast dimness in the building. Once inside, we were herded through turnstiles as though we were getting on the subway, only there was no subway on the other side of them. On the other side was a city-sized system of conveyor belts. I had no time to stop and goggle, as the crowd kept pushing me forward, closer and closer to the platform that led to the first of the conveyors.
People were stepping on to the conveyors. A few stood, but most of them knelt down. It was difficult to tell what they were feeling by looking at them. As the eleventh person stepped on, the conveyor started moving. Most of the riders stayed in their crouched positions, but the few who'd remained standing took off at a dead run and leapt at a conveyor moving in a different direction. I was fascinated by the leapers and didn't notice the fate of the crouchers. I decided i'd be a leaper myself just as it was my group's turn to step onto the conveyor system.
Like the few in the last group, i remained standing along with the nervous man from the table. Everyone else in my group was a croucher, and i ceased paying them any mind, suddenly nervous about my ability to jump to a different conveyor. Which one should i take? Where did they lead? Were they really any better destinations than where this one was going? I had no time to ponder these questions as the conveyor started moving. Do or Die, as the expression went. I did not laugh at this humourless joke i'd made to myself as i took off at a dead run. I chose a conveyor close to mine and leapt, surprising myself by making it easily. The sprint hadn't even winded me. I didn't look back at my thwartd fate, but forward at the one i'd chosen at random. I decided to crouch when i saw the sharp turns and dips i would be taking. At the end of the ride was a big, black empty. I had no time to panic before i felt myself falling. I didn't feel myself land, but i wasn't moving anymore, so i opened my eyes and took in the world around me.
I was in the grass, but why was it so tall? I could barely see above it. I opened my mouth to call out for help, and was surprised by my own voice.
"Ribbit."
I closed my mouth and immediately wished i'd never opened it in the first place. I'd attracted the attention of a girl on a swing set that'd been too big for me to notice. She jumped down off of the swing set, rocking my world for a brief moment as she bounded forward and scooped me up. She swung me sickeningly up above her head to show an adult i presumed to be her mother her new pet.
The place i was in was sort of a landing station. People sat around at picnic tables, some talking in low voices amongst each other, some staring straight ahead, some were praying quietly to themselves, but no one was displaying any kind of intense emotion. There was an air of anticipation, and i felt a little keyed up as i surveyed the recently dead. I walked past groups of them, catching snippets of conversation that meant nothing to me, and i let them filter out of me as easily as they'd drifted in. I could tell some of them had been here for days, and some were new arrivals like myself. Across the courtyard, i could see the door to . . . wherever it is i was supposed to end up. The door and the building were nondescript, and i knew this courtyard was just a waiting area for that nondescript building. I took a seat among some of the speculators.
"I hear that most people die in there," one man said nervously.
"Horse shit, we already dead," scoffed an older man. When i looked at him, i had the feeling he'd been blind during his life, but he was not blind now.
"No, it's true!" the first man insisted, "I hear that most people are too scared to move, and they just. . go away. You got to run once you get there if you want another chance."
"So what if we do go away? God will not let any harm come to me," a small girl said, a bit defiantly.
With no cue, half of us from the table stood up and began making our way toward the building. Conversation halted, envy and apprehension warring on the faces of those remaining as they watched us depart. I turned to look back at them again, and they'd already forgotten we were ever there. As i turned back toward the building, the nervous man nudged me.
"When you get there, run. It's the only way," he whispered out of the side of his mouth, his lips barely betraying that he'd spoken at all.
I nodded, not certain whether i was humouring him or whether i planned to take his advice. I supposed it would depend on what i found there.
My eyes had little difficulty adjusting to the vast dimness in the building. Once inside, we were herded through turnstiles as though we were getting on the subway, only there was no subway on the other side of them. On the other side was a city-sized system of conveyor belts. I had no time to stop and goggle, as the crowd kept pushing me forward, closer and closer to the platform that led to the first of the conveyors.
People were stepping on to the conveyors. A few stood, but most of them knelt down. It was difficult to tell what they were feeling by looking at them. As the eleventh person stepped on, the conveyor started moving. Most of the riders stayed in their crouched positions, but the few who'd remained standing took off at a dead run and leapt at a conveyor moving in a different direction. I was fascinated by the leapers and didn't notice the fate of the crouchers. I decided i'd be a leaper myself just as it was my group's turn to step onto the conveyor system.
Like the few in the last group, i remained standing along with the nervous man from the table. Everyone else in my group was a croucher, and i ceased paying them any mind, suddenly nervous about my ability to jump to a different conveyor. Which one should i take? Where did they lead? Were they really any better destinations than where this one was going? I had no time to ponder these questions as the conveyor started moving. Do or Die, as the expression went. I did not laugh at this humourless joke i'd made to myself as i took off at a dead run. I chose a conveyor close to mine and leapt, surprising myself by making it easily. The sprint hadn't even winded me. I didn't look back at my thwartd fate, but forward at the one i'd chosen at random. I decided to crouch when i saw the sharp turns and dips i would be taking. At the end of the ride was a big, black empty. I had no time to panic before i felt myself falling. I didn't feel myself land, but i wasn't moving anymore, so i opened my eyes and took in the world around me.
I was in the grass, but why was it so tall? I could barely see above it. I opened my mouth to call out for help, and was surprised by my own voice.
"Ribbit."
I closed my mouth and immediately wished i'd never opened it in the first place. I'd attracted the attention of a girl on a swing set that'd been too big for me to notice. She jumped down off of the swing set, rocking my world for a brief moment as she bounded forward and scooped me up. She swung me sickeningly up above her head to show an adult i presumed to be her mother her new pet.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Part Two
After a brief return to life as a frog, i found myself back in the courtyard of the recently dead. I shied away from the memories of my few painful days of life under the care of the little girl who meant well, but had no idea how to take adequate care of me. It was a slow, painful death that began as soon as she'd picked me up.
I thought of returning to my table, but decided against that and walked directly toward the building. It felt wrong, and as i passed, all conversation stopped and curious, fearful eyes bored into me. I looked down at the door, my hand hesitating on its handle. There was no noise behind me, and i could feel the weight of the multitude of stares crushing me, pushing me through the door just as surely as the crowd had done the first time. I nearly fell through the door after i'd opened it.
I looked around me, this time noticing that the conveyors were controlled by people. I wanted to go through the turnstiles, but they would not turn. I was approached by one of the conveyor workers. She was a neatly dressed woman in her middle years, wearing a blue oxford shirt, khaki pants, and a yellow hard hat. I wondered briefly what the hard hat was for.
"It's not time yet," she told me, her voice expressing that this was something i should have known without being told.
"What is all this?"
"Fate."
"I can see that. But what IS it?"
"What you're doing is Samsara. You're choosing rebirth, and all the misery and death that accompanies life."
"You're saying i don't know how to be happy?"
"I'm saying you're chosing Samsara."
"Where do they all go?"
"The belts? To different lives, of course. Why are you asking me questions you already know the answer to?"
I pondered that. It was true, i WAS only asking the questions i felt would be answered in a predictable, unthreatening way. I was not asking where the crouchers went. I wasn't asking how many times i could be reborn. I wasn't asking about an afterlife or my soul. I continued not asking those questions. After a few moments, the small woman went away to take up her position by the initial conveyor. People began crowding in behind me, and the turnstile let me through at last. I pondered the woman and her remarks as i stepped onto the conveyor. When it began moving, i sprinted and leapt, this time in the opposite direction.
I opened my eyes to find i was holding a baby in my arms. I was disconcerted a moment, thinking i should have been the baby. I realized that this woman's life (my life now) was truly in its infancy. We'd not been really living before this moment, merely going through the motions. She (I) felt the life in our arms gave us a reason to really live, and she (I) was born with our realization.
I thought of returning to my table, but decided against that and walked directly toward the building. It felt wrong, and as i passed, all conversation stopped and curious, fearful eyes bored into me. I looked down at the door, my hand hesitating on its handle. There was no noise behind me, and i could feel the weight of the multitude of stares crushing me, pushing me through the door just as surely as the crowd had done the first time. I nearly fell through the door after i'd opened it.
I looked around me, this time noticing that the conveyors were controlled by people. I wanted to go through the turnstiles, but they would not turn. I was approached by one of the conveyor workers. She was a neatly dressed woman in her middle years, wearing a blue oxford shirt, khaki pants, and a yellow hard hat. I wondered briefly what the hard hat was for.
"It's not time yet," she told me, her voice expressing that this was something i should have known without being told.
"What is all this?"
"Fate."
"I can see that. But what IS it?"
"What you're doing is Samsara. You're choosing rebirth, and all the misery and death that accompanies life."
"You're saying i don't know how to be happy?"
"I'm saying you're chosing Samsara."
"Where do they all go?"
"The belts? To different lives, of course. Why are you asking me questions you already know the answer to?"
I pondered that. It was true, i WAS only asking the questions i felt would be answered in a predictable, unthreatening way. I was not asking where the crouchers went. I wasn't asking how many times i could be reborn. I wasn't asking about an afterlife or my soul. I continued not asking those questions. After a few moments, the small woman went away to take up her position by the initial conveyor. People began crowding in behind me, and the turnstile let me through at last. I pondered the woman and her remarks as i stepped onto the conveyor. When it began moving, i sprinted and leapt, this time in the opposite direction.
I opened my eyes to find i was holding a baby in my arms. I was disconcerted a moment, thinking i should have been the baby. I realized that this woman's life (my life now) was truly in its infancy. We'd not been really living before this moment, merely going through the motions. She (I) felt the life in our arms gave us a reason to really live, and she (I) was born with our realization.
Part Three
I stepped back into the courtyard of the recent dead, feeling numb from my latest brush with death. I recalled eleven months of intense joy and love as i watched my baby grow from a helpless mass of flesh and bones into a tiny personality, unique and cherished. And, as it turned out, tenuous. I recalled the death of my baby daughter with that same detached nostalgia, but no real pain. SIDS, they'd said. I decided if my baby wasn't going to wake up anymore, then i didn't want to wake up anymore either, and then i swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills.
I saw my best friend from high school from my first life sitting alone at one of the picnic tables. I went to sit and wait with her, already contemplating my next jump. I smiled at her, and she smiled distractedly back at me, no spark of recognition in her eyes. I put my arm around her. She continued to not recognize me. I felt sorrow over this, as i realized how much i'd missed her in the few lives i'd lived since i'd seen her last. Maybe i looked like my most recent incarnation, and that's why she didn't know me. I couldn't be certain, i had no idea what i looked like just then. I kissed her cheek and stood up to go wait by the doors for the call.
I didn't wait for the conveyor to start moving this time, i jumped straight down to the belt below me. This one ran through a stream, and by the time i arrived at my newest identity, i was sopping wet. Once again, i was slated to begin life midway through.
I smiled around at all my friends and loved ones who'd taken the time to throw me this party. It wasn't just a party (though everyone loves a good excuse to drink and frolic), it was a public show of support and acceptance from those i was most afraid to reveal my true self to. The rainbow cake was as tall as me, and this widened my smile. Where the HELL did they get a cake so big?! I turned to say thank you to my boyfriend, and i was surprised by my feminine but unmistakably male voice. He walked over to me and put his arms around me and murmured words of love into my ear. I was confused. Is this how it works? Am i gay because i'm so accustomed to being a female that i couldn't break out of the role long enough to fit into my new identity? If the world knew, would that make it easier for it to accept me? I suppose it didn't matter. I was here, and i was happy, and i was ready to live again.
I saw my best friend from high school from my first life sitting alone at one of the picnic tables. I went to sit and wait with her, already contemplating my next jump. I smiled at her, and she smiled distractedly back at me, no spark of recognition in her eyes. I put my arm around her. She continued to not recognize me. I felt sorrow over this, as i realized how much i'd missed her in the few lives i'd lived since i'd seen her last. Maybe i looked like my most recent incarnation, and that's why she didn't know me. I couldn't be certain, i had no idea what i looked like just then. I kissed her cheek and stood up to go wait by the doors for the call.
I didn't wait for the conveyor to start moving this time, i jumped straight down to the belt below me. This one ran through a stream, and by the time i arrived at my newest identity, i was sopping wet. Once again, i was slated to begin life midway through.
I smiled around at all my friends and loved ones who'd taken the time to throw me this party. It wasn't just a party (though everyone loves a good excuse to drink and frolic), it was a public show of support and acceptance from those i was most afraid to reveal my true self to. The rainbow cake was as tall as me, and this widened my smile. Where the HELL did they get a cake so big?! I turned to say thank you to my boyfriend, and i was surprised by my feminine but unmistakably male voice. He walked over to me and put his arms around me and murmured words of love into my ear. I was confused. Is this how it works? Am i gay because i'm so accustomed to being a female that i couldn't break out of the role long enough to fit into my new identity? If the world knew, would that make it easier for it to accept me? I suppose it didn't matter. I was here, and i was happy, and i was ready to live again.
Part Four
I contemplated the frailty of both life and happiness as i made my way back out into the courtyard. I'd had one evening of real life with my family and friends before it was snatched away from me by ugly people with uglier feelings. Apparently the world wasn't big enough for my murderers and another gay man. I absently reached back to feel my head, nominally surprised when i found my skull intact. Moments ago, it was not.
My contemplation was interrupted by quiet weeping near by. I turned my head, astonished at the sound of real emotion after all the numbness. As i made my way toward the source, i saw a young woman clutching a boy who was taller than her. He held her too, with that familiar look of detached pain on his face. I knew this woman, and i approached her, almost embarrassed to interrupt her grief, but unable to stay away. I looked around, and everyone was staring at the woman and the boy with undisguised envy.
"Don't be sad, you have your son with you," i told her gently, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. After saying this, i realized that could be why she was so sad. She looked up at me, rubbing at her eyes and nodded at me.
"I know. I love my son, but i miss my daughters terribly," she said.
"You don't want them here. You can always see them again the next time?"
She smiled sadly, and she hugged me. "We aren't going to have a next time, we're Going On."
I wanted to ask what she meant by that, but we received the call, and made our way to the door once again. I lost her in the crowd and didn't see her again until we were on the conveyor. Before i jumped, i saw that she was crouching down in her son's arms, all traces of sorrow wiped from her face as though it were never there. She looked peaceful, if not happy, and then I saw what she meant. She was not going to jump. I noticed this time around that i was the only jumper left, and i felt like i was missing something. I had no time to contemplate it. I turned and made my leap. I landed on my conveyor as a small movement caught my eye. The small, well-dressed woman in the hardhat was looking at me thoughtfully, shaking her head. I had no time to contemplate that either as my conveyor dipped and then plunged straight down.
It was a long ride, and i noticed more and more neatly dressed people in yellow hard hats working along the way. It occurred to me all of a sudden that this Samsara was man-made and man-sustained. How?! Why?! The uncomfortable questions i'd been avoiding thinking about all came crashing down about me, and i staggered under their weight. How could this have escaped my notice? I had no time to contemplate that either. I wished i could jump off of the belt, and then i was plunged into my new life.
The sun was just cresting the horizon, and i stretched my arms and yawned, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my body. I couldn't see or move, but i was undisturbed by this as i exhaled an enchanting scent that was also a call. I felt the pressure of the bee landing on my open face and gathering pollen off of me, and the joy of fulfilling my purpose flooded me as i basked in the warmth of the sun. The feeling of unity with my surroundings inundated me, and i felt myself swelling into ripeness. I felt unspeakably beautiful, though i'd never seen myself, nor had any desire to.
My contemplation was interrupted by quiet weeping near by. I turned my head, astonished at the sound of real emotion after all the numbness. As i made my way toward the source, i saw a young woman clutching a boy who was taller than her. He held her too, with that familiar look of detached pain on his face. I knew this woman, and i approached her, almost embarrassed to interrupt her grief, but unable to stay away. I looked around, and everyone was staring at the woman and the boy with undisguised envy.
"Don't be sad, you have your son with you," i told her gently, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. After saying this, i realized that could be why she was so sad. She looked up at me, rubbing at her eyes and nodded at me.
"I know. I love my son, but i miss my daughters terribly," she said.
"You don't want them here. You can always see them again the next time?"
She smiled sadly, and she hugged me. "We aren't going to have a next time, we're Going On."
I wanted to ask what she meant by that, but we received the call, and made our way to the door once again. I lost her in the crowd and didn't see her again until we were on the conveyor. Before i jumped, i saw that she was crouching down in her son's arms, all traces of sorrow wiped from her face as though it were never there. She looked peaceful, if not happy, and then I saw what she meant. She was not going to jump. I noticed this time around that i was the only jumper left, and i felt like i was missing something. I had no time to contemplate it. I turned and made my leap. I landed on my conveyor as a small movement caught my eye. The small, well-dressed woman in the hardhat was looking at me thoughtfully, shaking her head. I had no time to contemplate that either as my conveyor dipped and then plunged straight down.
It was a long ride, and i noticed more and more neatly dressed people in yellow hard hats working along the way. It occurred to me all of a sudden that this Samsara was man-made and man-sustained. How?! Why?! The uncomfortable questions i'd been avoiding thinking about all came crashing down about me, and i staggered under their weight. How could this have escaped my notice? I had no time to contemplate that either. I wished i could jump off of the belt, and then i was plunged into my new life.
The sun was just cresting the horizon, and i stretched my arms and yawned, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my body. I couldn't see or move, but i was undisturbed by this as i exhaled an enchanting scent that was also a call. I felt the pressure of the bee landing on my open face and gathering pollen off of me, and the joy of fulfilling my purpose flooded me as i basked in the warmth of the sun. The feeling of unity with my surroundings inundated me, and i felt myself swelling into ripeness. I felt unspeakably beautiful, though i'd never seen myself, nor had any desire to.
Part Five
So much waste in all the lives i'd lived. So much sadness and waste. I wondered for the first time if the brief spikes of joy were worth all the pain and loss i experienced every time i lived. The neatly-dressed woman took my hand and sat down with me.
"It doesn't have to be like this, i think you know that by now," she said matter-of-factly.
"Why are you all doing this?"
She shrugged. "You don't have to choose it. Nobody does."
"But what about The Plan he's supposed to have for us? What about the conveyors. . . the Samsara? You're with-holding God from people! They deserve to know!""
"You still have free will. You have to choose him. And people do know. Some sooner than others," she said, looking pointedly at me. She got up and left me with my thoughts to make my decision. My thoughts returned to the pains and joys of my collective experiences with life. It wasn't worth it, i decided, and then i got the call.
I drifted toward the platform, my thoughts everywhere and nowhere. I felt peaceful instead of numb. I stepped onto the conveyor and i crouched down. I couldn't resist the urge to look at my co-riders. I saw the jumpers and i felt pity for them as i rode toward the light i'd never noticed before.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Metamorphosis
The night air was close and warm, the shore not far off, though i couldn't see it in the starlit darkness. She swam a bit further out than me while i stayed back, hesitant and a bit afraid with one foot buried up to the toes in the security of the sand beneath me. I heard her swim back to me, felt her take my hand.
"It's okay, i won't let you drown," i heard her say with laughter in her voice. She didn't need to say that, i knew she wouldn't let me drown. Nevertheless, i couldn't help being afraid.
"We can stay here near the bottom, if you like."
"I like."
She laughed at my silly fear and drew me a little more firmly on the sand. I could now stand with both feet flat on the ground, and the water barely cleared my shoulders. I heaved a gentle sigh of relief. I wanted to learn to swim, i really did! But the initial plunge was terrifying to me. I knew that one foot farther, and the sand would only be inches away from my feet, but the sea might as well be bottomless if i couldn't touch the ground and keep my head above the waterline.
I felt her gently probing fingers on my chest, pushing me gently back as she swept my legs out from underneath me. I lie just at the surface of the water, not really floating because of her hand on my back keeping me up. I could hear her soothing voice telling me to relax, and i did my best. Really, it wasn't so bad, this laying at the water's surface. The sea rocked me gently on its bosom, stroking the length of my body gently with its lapping waves, urging me to let go and be one with it.
I looked up at her and she smiled.
"Stay relaxed. My hand has not been supporting you for at least five minutes, and you're staying up just fine. I'm going to step back and float next to you."
Panic threatened to seize me, and i felt myself sinking. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe calmly. "Not yet," i said, thrusting the tremor from my voice. She nodded, but did not return her hand to support me. Gradually, i eased the tension in my shoulders and back, and let the sea carry me once again. I felt her move away from my side and down toward my feet.
She took my feet in her hands and pushed them together, closing my slightly parted legs. She began rubbing my feet gently. As she worked her way from my toes to my heels, she trailed her fingers up to my ankles, running the palms of her hands along my closed legs. Back and forth, she rubbed my legs gently, concentrating at the areas where my legs met. I held my breath, my heart quivering in anticipation as she worked her way up my calves and toward my thighs, always gently, brushing her palms over me.
My skin flared with heat where her hands touched me. I could feel the sea around me growing warm with the heat her hands left in my skin. She was halfway up my thighs when i could no longer contain my excitement.
"It's happening, isn't it?" She only smiled at me, her gentle touching the affirmation i was looking for. She ran her hands across my buttocks and over my nethers, up to the middle of my belly and back. The sea warmed me, helping my legs forget, helping me forget. She withdrew her hands from me and let the sea finish the job she started. I felt the gentle caresses of the water, molding me, reshaping me, every change a pleasure building towards ecstasy. She lay back in the arms of the sea next to me, her reassuring presence keeping me still as the changes she wrought in me came to their climax.
"It's done," she told me unnecessarily. I could feel the warmth subsiding, and the pleasure bleeding out of me into the sea. The sea accepted my emotion, taking its due payment for its help in my becoming.
"Can i look now?"
"Yes!"
I flexed my knees, feeling the power of them. The water was too shallow, but i didn't move just yet. I looked down at what used to be my legs. In their place, scales glittered so brilliantly back at me that at first i could not discern the colour. I moved slightly below the waterline and saw that from my navel down had become a deep ochre, with crimson tips. It was the most beautiful fish i'd ever seen, and it was me. I touched my scales, and they were tough like armour, but smooth and supple. I would become nothing's dinner.
My heart sang with joy, but my joy was fettered by the shallowness of the water. Where i once felt safety and security, i now felt hemmed in and trapped. I felt her take my hand and guide me toward deeper waters. I left my fear upon the sand.
"It's okay, i won't let you drown," i heard her say with laughter in her voice. She didn't need to say that, i knew she wouldn't let me drown. Nevertheless, i couldn't help being afraid.
"We can stay here near the bottom, if you like."
"I like."
She laughed at my silly fear and drew me a little more firmly on the sand. I could now stand with both feet flat on the ground, and the water barely cleared my shoulders. I heaved a gentle sigh of relief. I wanted to learn to swim, i really did! But the initial plunge was terrifying to me. I knew that one foot farther, and the sand would only be inches away from my feet, but the sea might as well be bottomless if i couldn't touch the ground and keep my head above the waterline.
I felt her gently probing fingers on my chest, pushing me gently back as she swept my legs out from underneath me. I lie just at the surface of the water, not really floating because of her hand on my back keeping me up. I could hear her soothing voice telling me to relax, and i did my best. Really, it wasn't so bad, this laying at the water's surface. The sea rocked me gently on its bosom, stroking the length of my body gently with its lapping waves, urging me to let go and be one with it.
I looked up at her and she smiled.
"Stay relaxed. My hand has not been supporting you for at least five minutes, and you're staying up just fine. I'm going to step back and float next to you."
Panic threatened to seize me, and i felt myself sinking. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe calmly. "Not yet," i said, thrusting the tremor from my voice. She nodded, but did not return her hand to support me. Gradually, i eased the tension in my shoulders and back, and let the sea carry me once again. I felt her move away from my side and down toward my feet.
She took my feet in her hands and pushed them together, closing my slightly parted legs. She began rubbing my feet gently. As she worked her way from my toes to my heels, she trailed her fingers up to my ankles, running the palms of her hands along my closed legs. Back and forth, she rubbed my legs gently, concentrating at the areas where my legs met. I held my breath, my heart quivering in anticipation as she worked her way up my calves and toward my thighs, always gently, brushing her palms over me.
My skin flared with heat where her hands touched me. I could feel the sea around me growing warm with the heat her hands left in my skin. She was halfway up my thighs when i could no longer contain my excitement.
"It's happening, isn't it?" She only smiled at me, her gentle touching the affirmation i was looking for. She ran her hands across my buttocks and over my nethers, up to the middle of my belly and back. The sea warmed me, helping my legs forget, helping me forget. She withdrew her hands from me and let the sea finish the job she started. I felt the gentle caresses of the water, molding me, reshaping me, every change a pleasure building towards ecstasy. She lay back in the arms of the sea next to me, her reassuring presence keeping me still as the changes she wrought in me came to their climax.
"It's done," she told me unnecessarily. I could feel the warmth subsiding, and the pleasure bleeding out of me into the sea. The sea accepted my emotion, taking its due payment for its help in my becoming.
"Can i look now?"
"Yes!"
I flexed my knees, feeling the power of them. The water was too shallow, but i didn't move just yet. I looked down at what used to be my legs. In their place, scales glittered so brilliantly back at me that at first i could not discern the colour. I moved slightly below the waterline and saw that from my navel down had become a deep ochre, with crimson tips. It was the most beautiful fish i'd ever seen, and it was me. I touched my scales, and they were tough like armour, but smooth and supple. I would become nothing's dinner.
My heart sang with joy, but my joy was fettered by the shallowness of the water. Where i once felt safety and security, i now felt hemmed in and trapped. I felt her take my hand and guide me toward deeper waters. I left my fear upon the sand.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Up The Beach
The day was beautiful and clear, and we sat in the shade of the building i lived in on the beach. He sat there with his arms around her. He was so important to her, and i could see it written in her eyes and all across her face like a book left open in hopes the world would read it and understand. He was telling me of his woes. He had worn a tux, but not at the right time, he was telling me. He was wearing the tux now, but he wished he'd worn it last night. I told him that if i was her, i wouldn't have cared what he was wearing. . . i would simply have been happy he was there. He looked at me as though i didn't understand, but it was he who did not understand. I looked at her to see if she understood, but the book had closed. She was now afraid the world would read and misunderstand. Four tears rolled down my face, the only indication of my sorrow for her, but he didn't notice. He was trying, again, to explain how things would be different today, right now, if he'd only worn the tux last night. I looked at her, infinitely sad that he couldn't understand what his explanations were doing to her. She now wore a mask of her own face. I couldn't bear it. I got up and walked up the beach. I could hear his explanations perfectly, though i walked farther and farther from him. He had been wearing jeans and a white tee shirt, you see. White! he exclaimed to me, the heavy emotion written in his eyes and all over his face like a book left open in hopes i would read and understand. I understood. My heart was breaking that he couldn't understand. I looked at her, and i could see a pool of tears collecting under her. She was now wearing a mask of someone else's face. She doesn't care about the white teeshirt, i pleaded with him at the top of my lungs. He couldn't hear me because i was now so far away. I could hear him perfectly, but he could not hear me. I sighed and continued my walk. They were specks behind me, and i could hear his heart breaking in his voice. She was drowning in the tears shed by eyes that were no longer hers, eyes that she'd changed in the desperate hope to escape the pain he couldn't help inflicting on her with his own pain. I couldn't walk any farther.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
I Hate Doing Dishes
It's funny how events happening to you while you're asleep affect your dreams.
I was standing over my sink, washing some dishes up after supper. The dishes were stacked up to the ceiling in piles all over the kitchen and i was afraid i'd never catch up before i had to make dinner again. It was a reasonable fear, i thought, as i eyed the stack of coffee cups teetering ominously over my head. I thought i'd do those next before they finally fell over onto my head and buried me in a mountain of ceramic. I was positive if that happened, it'd take years to unearth me.
I finished the plate i was working on and put it in the rinse water. I briefly wondered what happened to that dishwasher i had just bought last year. Ah, yes, it became disgruntled with overuse and ran off, leaving a drippy note behind that i could barely read. The ink had all run together. Poor dishwasher; i could certainly commiserate with it's feelings of unappreciation right now! I wished i'd been a better friend to the poor thing, and maybe it'd be here now to help me. I snickered at my ridiculous thoughts and returned my attention to the task at hand.
I climbed up a rickety ladder to get to the top of the stack of coffee cups and tossed a few down into the water. I was thankful i'd replaced my regular sink with a bottomless one, so i didn't have to worry about breaking the cups as long as i aimed carefully and didn't throw them down on top of each other. I gazed down at the distance to the floor. I saw the tiny black speck that was my dog nosing around one of the stacks of plates on the floor. I sighed, thinking if i didn't get down from here, he'd start licking the plates. Being in no mood to disinter my dog from underneath a pile of broken Corelle, I climbed back down and shoo-ed him out of the kitchen. Then i tackled the cups, which i knew wouldn't take too long as coffee doesn't really stick like baked stuff on a pan does.
I picked up the first cup and my sponge, when i noticed something odd about my sponge hand. It looked like my hand, and felt like my hand, but it'd taken on a surreal quality that i couldn't readily identify. I flexed it a few times, and though it was a bit sluggish to respond, it was definitely my hand. I couldn't decide if i was trying to distract myself from the heinous kitchen duties or if there really was something amiss with my hand.
Hand? Really, now that i paid attention, it was my whole arm up to my elbow that was looking more and more like a badly made prosthetic. I moved it around easily enough, but now when i tried to flex my fingers, nothing happened. It was starting to take on that karate-chop pose that a Barbie's arm perpetually had. It was DEFINITELY looking plastic now. I tried to drop my sponge, but couldn't; it was caught between my fingers that seemed to now be fused together. I put the cup down and felt the arm with my other hand. It felt like flesh to that hand, but seeing as how i couldn't feel the pressure or touch on the afflicted arm, it felt like someone else's flesh. Now that was just downright creepy.
I continued watching my arm become fake. As though that wasn't alarming enough, it began to blur a bit around the edges. Now it looked like a mirage of a badly made prosthetic arm. It was even shimmering a bit, like the heat coming off a desert road in the distance. I'm watching my arm disappear!, i thought in a panic. I wanted to call out for help, but i was absolutely fascinated by the process of my arm becoming incorporeal before my very eyes. As i noticed that the sponge still looked perfectly real and solid, it slipped from my grasp and fell into the water. It didn't exactly slip so much as my hand became so insubstantial that it could no longer support something so tangible and real. I looked from the sponge back to my arm, and it was gone.
I looked from my arm that ended in a nub at the elbow back to my other arm a few times. I was numb. I couldn't even feel shock. I felt curiously lopsided as i stretched my arms out together, one being double the length of the other, and terminating in a hand, where the other was smooth where it should have continued. I wondered dumbly how i was going to finish the dishes now.
When i woke up, i was laying awkwardly on my arm, and it had fallen asleep.
I was standing over my sink, washing some dishes up after supper. The dishes were stacked up to the ceiling in piles all over the kitchen and i was afraid i'd never catch up before i had to make dinner again. It was a reasonable fear, i thought, as i eyed the stack of coffee cups teetering ominously over my head. I thought i'd do those next before they finally fell over onto my head and buried me in a mountain of ceramic. I was positive if that happened, it'd take years to unearth me.
I finished the plate i was working on and put it in the rinse water. I briefly wondered what happened to that dishwasher i had just bought last year. Ah, yes, it became disgruntled with overuse and ran off, leaving a drippy note behind that i could barely read. The ink had all run together. Poor dishwasher; i could certainly commiserate with it's feelings of unappreciation right now! I wished i'd been a better friend to the poor thing, and maybe it'd be here now to help me. I snickered at my ridiculous thoughts and returned my attention to the task at hand.
I climbed up a rickety ladder to get to the top of the stack of coffee cups and tossed a few down into the water. I was thankful i'd replaced my regular sink with a bottomless one, so i didn't have to worry about breaking the cups as long as i aimed carefully and didn't throw them down on top of each other. I gazed down at the distance to the floor. I saw the tiny black speck that was my dog nosing around one of the stacks of plates on the floor. I sighed, thinking if i didn't get down from here, he'd start licking the plates. Being in no mood to disinter my dog from underneath a pile of broken Corelle, I climbed back down and shoo-ed him out of the kitchen. Then i tackled the cups, which i knew wouldn't take too long as coffee doesn't really stick like baked stuff on a pan does.
I picked up the first cup and my sponge, when i noticed something odd about my sponge hand. It looked like my hand, and felt like my hand, but it'd taken on a surreal quality that i couldn't readily identify. I flexed it a few times, and though it was a bit sluggish to respond, it was definitely my hand. I couldn't decide if i was trying to distract myself from the heinous kitchen duties or if there really was something amiss with my hand.
Hand? Really, now that i paid attention, it was my whole arm up to my elbow that was looking more and more like a badly made prosthetic. I moved it around easily enough, but now when i tried to flex my fingers, nothing happened. It was starting to take on that karate-chop pose that a Barbie's arm perpetually had. It was DEFINITELY looking plastic now. I tried to drop my sponge, but couldn't; it was caught between my fingers that seemed to now be fused together. I put the cup down and felt the arm with my other hand. It felt like flesh to that hand, but seeing as how i couldn't feel the pressure or touch on the afflicted arm, it felt like someone else's flesh. Now that was just downright creepy.
I continued watching my arm become fake. As though that wasn't alarming enough, it began to blur a bit around the edges. Now it looked like a mirage of a badly made prosthetic arm. It was even shimmering a bit, like the heat coming off a desert road in the distance. I'm watching my arm disappear!, i thought in a panic. I wanted to call out for help, but i was absolutely fascinated by the process of my arm becoming incorporeal before my very eyes. As i noticed that the sponge still looked perfectly real and solid, it slipped from my grasp and fell into the water. It didn't exactly slip so much as my hand became so insubstantial that it could no longer support something so tangible and real. I looked from the sponge back to my arm, and it was gone.
I looked from my arm that ended in a nub at the elbow back to my other arm a few times. I was numb. I couldn't even feel shock. I felt curiously lopsided as i stretched my arms out together, one being double the length of the other, and terminating in a hand, where the other was smooth where it should have continued. I wondered dumbly how i was going to finish the dishes now.
When i woke up, i was laying awkwardly on my arm, and it had fallen asleep.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Another Angry John Dream
This kinda came out of left field. . . I haven't seen John in a couple of weeks, so he's had no opportunity to get mad at me.
Sweat was pouring down my face and back. It had to be eight hundred degrees outside and I smelled like the line outside an old Greek bath house on a particularly crowded day, i just knew it. And yet, i spared no effort as i shoved the lawn mower across the yard in intricate patterns. As my sense of dread grew, so did the complexity of the patterns i made with the mower. . . hordes of MLB groundskeepers should have been clamoring at my door to hire me! I'd been mowing for days, and the end was no where in sight.
But it wasn't good enough. I could hear the beast roaring in the distance, closing fast. I didn't think it was possible to push the mower any faster, but i found a reserve of energy in me somewhere and began mowing at a dead run. I hazarded a glance over my shoulder, and there it was. It was a white Ford F-250, but somehow this one seemed to be as tall as a building. The chrome grill flashed like the mouth of a great beast, blinding me for just a moment. The truck stood up on tractor-sized wheels. It occurred to me that if he wanted to run me over, all i had to do was stand still and duck a little bit, and he'd pass right over me. Somehow that brought no comfort. I knew John was in that truck, but i couldn't see him through the glare coming off the windshield. No matter, he made his presence known. He hung out of his window and began shouting into a bullhorn:
"YOU THINK I'M PAYING YOU FOR THIS SHIT?! IT'S TAKEN YOU THREE DAYS TO DO A JOB THAT SHOULD'VE TAKEN YOU THREE HOURS! THE LINES ARE CROOKED AND BORING! DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT GAS IS COSTING ME?!"
Frantically i ran, trying to finish up the lawn, but it seemed to be growing faster than i could cut it. I knew if the grass got much higher, i wouldn't be able to see to complete the pattern i'd started, and then i'd REALLY be in a world of pain. I could feel the heat from the grill singing the hair on my neck. Sweat was no longer pouring off of me, the heat from the truck evaporated it as soon as it peeked out of my pores. Soon i'd be out of sweat, and the greedy truck would start sucking out my life force. All the while, the bullhorn was blaring. I ceased being able to make out individual words, it was just a loud blare reverberating off the insides of my skull, gaining volume as they travelled. Soon, all i could feel was my hands aching from the vibrations of the mower, the heat and the sound vibrations, trying to dig themselves out of my head via pickaxe.
Suddenly, i was out of the grass. The mowing was finished, but the yard was a mess from where John had been driving on it. He jumped down out of the truck and surveyed my work. He seemed not to notice the mess he'd made of his lawn. He looked at his watch and then at me. I was standing there, propping myself up on the lawn mower and sucking in air. "You're sweating on my mower," he said to me. I flinched. I knew that was going to cost me too.
Sweat was pouring down my face and back. It had to be eight hundred degrees outside and I smelled like the line outside an old Greek bath house on a particularly crowded day, i just knew it. And yet, i spared no effort as i shoved the lawn mower across the yard in intricate patterns. As my sense of dread grew, so did the complexity of the patterns i made with the mower. . . hordes of MLB groundskeepers should have been clamoring at my door to hire me! I'd been mowing for days, and the end was no where in sight.
But it wasn't good enough. I could hear the beast roaring in the distance, closing fast. I didn't think it was possible to push the mower any faster, but i found a reserve of energy in me somewhere and began mowing at a dead run. I hazarded a glance over my shoulder, and there it was. It was a white Ford F-250, but somehow this one seemed to be as tall as a building. The chrome grill flashed like the mouth of a great beast, blinding me for just a moment. The truck stood up on tractor-sized wheels. It occurred to me that if he wanted to run me over, all i had to do was stand still and duck a little bit, and he'd pass right over me. Somehow that brought no comfort. I knew John was in that truck, but i couldn't see him through the glare coming off the windshield. No matter, he made his presence known. He hung out of his window and began shouting into a bullhorn:
"YOU THINK I'M PAYING YOU FOR THIS SHIT?! IT'S TAKEN YOU THREE DAYS TO DO A JOB THAT SHOULD'VE TAKEN YOU THREE HOURS! THE LINES ARE CROOKED AND BORING! DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT GAS IS COSTING ME?!"
Frantically i ran, trying to finish up the lawn, but it seemed to be growing faster than i could cut it. I knew if the grass got much higher, i wouldn't be able to see to complete the pattern i'd started, and then i'd REALLY be in a world of pain. I could feel the heat from the grill singing the hair on my neck. Sweat was no longer pouring off of me, the heat from the truck evaporated it as soon as it peeked out of my pores. Soon i'd be out of sweat, and the greedy truck would start sucking out my life force. All the while, the bullhorn was blaring. I ceased being able to make out individual words, it was just a loud blare reverberating off the insides of my skull, gaining volume as they travelled. Soon, all i could feel was my hands aching from the vibrations of the mower, the heat and the sound vibrations, trying to dig themselves out of my head via pickaxe.
Suddenly, i was out of the grass. The mowing was finished, but the yard was a mess from where John had been driving on it. He jumped down out of the truck and surveyed my work. He seemed not to notice the mess he'd made of his lawn. He looked at his watch and then at me. I was standing there, propping myself up on the lawn mower and sucking in air. "You're sweating on my mower," he said to me. I flinched. I knew that was going to cost me too.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Drowned
It became increasingly obvious that the rain would not abate anytime soon. Georgia and i looked at each other and came to a silent mutual agreement that the house must be abandoned lest we die with it. I looked around the house sadly, and i felt it give its silent understanding. This did not make the decision to leave it here to drown any easier, but it made no sense to sacrifice ourselves with it. I looked at the rest of the group when the first wave of mental pushes came at me. By the uncomfortable looks on everyones' faces, i could tell they were experiencing the same uncomfortable battle with the house: the compulsion to leave when we wanted to stay with it. Jim said, "It wants us to go. We should go". Silently, we filed out to the van and piled in, barely noticing the water pouring off our now-soaked clothing and hair.
Georgia took the wheel and eased us onto the dirt-turned-mud road. I hoped we wouldn't get mired and have to walk. The air was so saturated with water that breathing was nearly impossible, and i didn't think we would survive. Thinking of the house drowning by itself while we drowned elsewhere made me feel numb with futility. Jim took my hand and i looked at him. He was having the same feelings. I pushed them to the side and focused on the road. We were approaching a section that had been washed out. I waited for Georgia to veer off in another direction, but she was driving straight for it. I looked at her in alarm, and discovered she'd passed out or fallen asleep. It didn't matter which, because we plunged right into the water a heartbeat later.
I got out to see if backing up would be a possiblilty. As soon as i shut the door, i saw the water suddenly pull the van all the way under. Horrorstricken, i dove in behind it without thinking. I hoped i would be too small for the water to notice as i tried in vain to jerk the doors open. The water started to crawl through the vents, and soon fountains were gushing into the interior of the van in the water's frenzied attempts to drown us. There was nothing i could do. I could feel the water's smirking malice as it watched my friends and family throwing themselves at the ceiling, trying to stay above the surface. The water lazily pulled them back under, just below the surface, and then released them again, so that they could gasp and sputter, only to be jerked back under as they inhaled, missing the air and giving the water access to their insides. I shut my eyes. There was just no telling what kind of damage the water could do once it got inside you.
Almost simultaneously, all struggling ceased. Crowing triumphantly, the water slammed itself back into the vent, exiting the way it had come in. How horrid that all they air they could have needed was now all around them if they were alive to breathe it! I wondered if i would be able to open the doors if all the water left. Gradually, the water began to seep back in. Apparently, leaving this vacancy was too much effort for the water to sustain.
Once the van had refilled, the door came open easily. I jerked Georgia out first and pulled her to the surface. Once we reached solid ground, i turned her on her side, hoping i could coax the water out now that it was cut off from itself. She shuddered a bit and then sand began to pour from her mouth. I picked up her feet and tipped her upside down to make sure it all came out. The sand liquefied back into water, and the pile-turned-puddle ran back down to the lake. I gently began to massage her temple until her menu came up. I selected 'revive' from my short list of options, and she opened her eyes.
"The water is getting closer, we'd better hurry, " i told her.
We both dived back under and returned with my mother and my sister. Following my lead, she turned my sister upside down and let the sand pour from her mouth. As before, the sand liquified and rushed back to itself. Georgia returned to the water to bring Jim and Ryan while i massaged my mother's temple. It took a little longer, but her menu came up and 'revive' was an option. I heaved a sigh of relief and moved on to my sister. I was able to revive her too.
When Georgia broke the surface, i took Jim from her and she brought Ryan out of the water. Quickly, we began emptying them of their sand. It didn't seem as though the sand was pouring as quickly from their mouths, and a growing realization that the previous puddles had communicated our doings to the larger body of itself slowly dawned on me. The sand was doing its best to stay in side.
Panic-stricken, i began to shake him violently, desperately trying to dislodge the sand. All at once it came out, but when it liquefied, it did not return to itself as it had previously. We were to be spied upon. No matter. I began to massage Jim's temple. Nothing happened. Fighting my growing despair, i tried the other temple. No menu. It was too late, the water had killed him. I turned to Georgia, and saw that she had no luck either. I felt the weight of grief crush me like the pressure of an ocean. Though the water had not entered me, it had killed me all the same. My body just hadn't realized it yet.
The living group of us decided to return to the house while the road remained. I took the dead group of us and slowly began trudging toward the waiting water. It opened its arms to us like a murderous lover, and pulled us gently in.
Georgia took the wheel and eased us onto the dirt-turned-mud road. I hoped we wouldn't get mired and have to walk. The air was so saturated with water that breathing was nearly impossible, and i didn't think we would survive. Thinking of the house drowning by itself while we drowned elsewhere made me feel numb with futility. Jim took my hand and i looked at him. He was having the same feelings. I pushed them to the side and focused on the road. We were approaching a section that had been washed out. I waited for Georgia to veer off in another direction, but she was driving straight for it. I looked at her in alarm, and discovered she'd passed out or fallen asleep. It didn't matter which, because we plunged right into the water a heartbeat later.
I got out to see if backing up would be a possiblilty. As soon as i shut the door, i saw the water suddenly pull the van all the way under. Horrorstricken, i dove in behind it without thinking. I hoped i would be too small for the water to notice as i tried in vain to jerk the doors open. The water started to crawl through the vents, and soon fountains were gushing into the interior of the van in the water's frenzied attempts to drown us. There was nothing i could do. I could feel the water's smirking malice as it watched my friends and family throwing themselves at the ceiling, trying to stay above the surface. The water lazily pulled them back under, just below the surface, and then released them again, so that they could gasp and sputter, only to be jerked back under as they inhaled, missing the air and giving the water access to their insides. I shut my eyes. There was just no telling what kind of damage the water could do once it got inside you.
Almost simultaneously, all struggling ceased. Crowing triumphantly, the water slammed itself back into the vent, exiting the way it had come in. How horrid that all they air they could have needed was now all around them if they were alive to breathe it! I wondered if i would be able to open the doors if all the water left. Gradually, the water began to seep back in. Apparently, leaving this vacancy was too much effort for the water to sustain.
Once the van had refilled, the door came open easily. I jerked Georgia out first and pulled her to the surface. Once we reached solid ground, i turned her on her side, hoping i could coax the water out now that it was cut off from itself. She shuddered a bit and then sand began to pour from her mouth. I picked up her feet and tipped her upside down to make sure it all came out. The sand liquefied back into water, and the pile-turned-puddle ran back down to the lake. I gently began to massage her temple until her menu came up. I selected 'revive' from my short list of options, and she opened her eyes.
"The water is getting closer, we'd better hurry, " i told her.
We both dived back under and returned with my mother and my sister. Following my lead, she turned my sister upside down and let the sand pour from her mouth. As before, the sand liquified and rushed back to itself. Georgia returned to the water to bring Jim and Ryan while i massaged my mother's temple. It took a little longer, but her menu came up and 'revive' was an option. I heaved a sigh of relief and moved on to my sister. I was able to revive her too.
When Georgia broke the surface, i took Jim from her and she brought Ryan out of the water. Quickly, we began emptying them of their sand. It didn't seem as though the sand was pouring as quickly from their mouths, and a growing realization that the previous puddles had communicated our doings to the larger body of itself slowly dawned on me. The sand was doing its best to stay in side.
Panic-stricken, i began to shake him violently, desperately trying to dislodge the sand. All at once it came out, but when it liquefied, it did not return to itself as it had previously. We were to be spied upon. No matter. I began to massage Jim's temple. Nothing happened. Fighting my growing despair, i tried the other temple. No menu. It was too late, the water had killed him. I turned to Georgia, and saw that she had no luck either. I felt the weight of grief crush me like the pressure of an ocean. Though the water had not entered me, it had killed me all the same. My body just hadn't realized it yet.
The living group of us decided to return to the house while the road remained. I took the dead group of us and slowly began trudging toward the waiting water. It opened its arms to us like a murderous lover, and pulled us gently in.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Final Exam
"How have i managed to miss the whole semester?!" i demanded of myself as i ran across campus to the final exam in a class i had forgotten i was enrolled in. I NEVER miss class, let alone forget about my enrollment in them! I hoped like hell i could fake my way through it, but that seemed unlikely as i couldn't even recall what the class was. Everyone around me was quiet and serene, walking about in smug satisfaction that THEY had not missed the entire semester and had aced THEIR final exams. They were taking absolutely no notice of me as i flew past them, but i could tell they were all gloating to themselves. Cretins.
Cretins made me think of croutons. I briefly imagined a huge salad bowl full of mixed baby greens and tomatoes, topped with creamy delicious ranch. And this bunch of smirking snobs. I chuckled as i imagined their dismay as the fork descended upon them.
I slowed to a jog as i approached the tall imposing building that housed my newly-remembered class. It was seventeen storeys high and constructed of crumbling red brick grown over with militant ivy. The building continuously shed red dust, trying to dislodge the mass of life slowly trying to suffocate it, but the ivy dug its roots in and continued its inexorable march upward toward the spires. I shuddered to think of what lurked in the dark, obviously disused turrets, and forgave myself for not remembering this class. I wasn't sure i could have approached this building day after day. The thing was practically threatening me, daring me to put a foot up on its cracked stairs; anticipating the moment i passed through the door and it got to swallow me. Would i ever make it back out? It didn't really matter. I HAD to take this final.
I looked to my left and saw a girl of similar age standing, looking at the building with the same expression i could feel my face wearing. She looked back at me and said, "No wonder i forgot this class." I nodded in sympathy. We clasped hands and started climbing the stairs. I hoped my palms weren't sweaty.
Once inside, we navigated the hallway that was more like a storage space. Over disused desks, around stacks of rat-chewed books, and through busted book cases, we battled the obstacles that stood like sentries trying to turn us back. Stupidly, we paid no heed and pushed forward. After climbing over a mountain of smashed up podiums, we arrived at the single spiral staircase and began to ascend. There was only one floor to the huge building, and of course, it couldn't be on the ground. I cursed and grumbled under my breath, and my companion ranted about the uselessness of buildings whose size were disproportionate to their floor-content. Momentarily flashing back to my earlier thought of the building swallowing me, i thought it was really inappropriate that i was not going DOWN the building's gullet, but UP it. All the while, we raced up the stairs, desperate not to be late.
Nearing the top of the stairs, we saw something surprising: Cheerful light filtering through an open doorway, with muffled laughter drifting down toward us. Well, how bad can it really be? My companion and i stopped on the landing to mop our brows and catch our breath. Then we walked into the door, and it shut gently behind us, leaving the dreary downstairs to its own devices.
Inside, there were fifty-ish grade-school looking desks gathered around a central desk that clearly belonged to an adult. I looked down at the knee-high desk and its tiny chair in dismay. Even as short as i am, i knew this was going to be quite uncomfortable and felt a spark of pity for my taller friend. I looked around at the other empty desks, wondering where the laughter was coming from. I turned to ask my companion what she thought, but she'd also disappeared. Trying not to panic, i began walking around the ring of desks, examining them more closely. I noticed that there were book bags and purses and lunch bags next to some of them. I stepped inside the circle of desks, but there was no change in the room. I came upon a desk with my companion's bag and purse on it, and set my things down on the empty desk next to hers. I sat down.
As soon as i sat down, others began to coalesce and take shape. In a few seconds, i could see that most of the other desks had occupants and that they were all engaged in a lively conversation. No one seemed nervous about the exam at all, though from the chatter i could tell no one had been to the class all semester long. I looked at my friend, who had not yet joined the conversation. I was about to ask her what she made of all this when the teacher coalesced in the center of the room, frowning at the lack of order she found in the room. Almost as if someone'd flipped a switch, all noise stopped.
She was quite a sight in and of herself. She was dressed in a long black habit that more resembled the robe of a Catholic priest than a dress. Her hair was pulled into an iron gray bun on top of her prismic head. Her head had fourty facets so that she could frown at all of us simultaneously without having to bother with something so mundane as turning around. She reached a long, bony arm out for an egg timer on her desk, set it, and said in forty of the same voice:
"Please begin."
Cretins made me think of croutons. I briefly imagined a huge salad bowl full of mixed baby greens and tomatoes, topped with creamy delicious ranch. And this bunch of smirking snobs. I chuckled as i imagined their dismay as the fork descended upon them.
I slowed to a jog as i approached the tall imposing building that housed my newly-remembered class. It was seventeen storeys high and constructed of crumbling red brick grown over with militant ivy. The building continuously shed red dust, trying to dislodge the mass of life slowly trying to suffocate it, but the ivy dug its roots in and continued its inexorable march upward toward the spires. I shuddered to think of what lurked in the dark, obviously disused turrets, and forgave myself for not remembering this class. I wasn't sure i could have approached this building day after day. The thing was practically threatening me, daring me to put a foot up on its cracked stairs; anticipating the moment i passed through the door and it got to swallow me. Would i ever make it back out? It didn't really matter. I HAD to take this final.
I looked to my left and saw a girl of similar age standing, looking at the building with the same expression i could feel my face wearing. She looked back at me and said, "No wonder i forgot this class." I nodded in sympathy. We clasped hands and started climbing the stairs. I hoped my palms weren't sweaty.
Once inside, we navigated the hallway that was more like a storage space. Over disused desks, around stacks of rat-chewed books, and through busted book cases, we battled the obstacles that stood like sentries trying to turn us back. Stupidly, we paid no heed and pushed forward. After climbing over a mountain of smashed up podiums, we arrived at the single spiral staircase and began to ascend. There was only one floor to the huge building, and of course, it couldn't be on the ground. I cursed and grumbled under my breath, and my companion ranted about the uselessness of buildings whose size were disproportionate to their floor-content. Momentarily flashing back to my earlier thought of the building swallowing me, i thought it was really inappropriate that i was not going DOWN the building's gullet, but UP it. All the while, we raced up the stairs, desperate not to be late.
Nearing the top of the stairs, we saw something surprising: Cheerful light filtering through an open doorway, with muffled laughter drifting down toward us. Well, how bad can it really be? My companion and i stopped on the landing to mop our brows and catch our breath. Then we walked into the door, and it shut gently behind us, leaving the dreary downstairs to its own devices.
Inside, there were fifty-ish grade-school looking desks gathered around a central desk that clearly belonged to an adult. I looked down at the knee-high desk and its tiny chair in dismay. Even as short as i am, i knew this was going to be quite uncomfortable and felt a spark of pity for my taller friend. I looked around at the other empty desks, wondering where the laughter was coming from. I turned to ask my companion what she thought, but she'd also disappeared. Trying not to panic, i began walking around the ring of desks, examining them more closely. I noticed that there were book bags and purses and lunch bags next to some of them. I stepped inside the circle of desks, but there was no change in the room. I came upon a desk with my companion's bag and purse on it, and set my things down on the empty desk next to hers. I sat down.
As soon as i sat down, others began to coalesce and take shape. In a few seconds, i could see that most of the other desks had occupants and that they were all engaged in a lively conversation. No one seemed nervous about the exam at all, though from the chatter i could tell no one had been to the class all semester long. I looked at my friend, who had not yet joined the conversation. I was about to ask her what she made of all this when the teacher coalesced in the center of the room, frowning at the lack of order she found in the room. Almost as if someone'd flipped a switch, all noise stopped.
She was quite a sight in and of herself. She was dressed in a long black habit that more resembled the robe of a Catholic priest than a dress. Her hair was pulled into an iron gray bun on top of her prismic head. Her head had fourty facets so that she could frown at all of us simultaneously without having to bother with something so mundane as turning around. She reached a long, bony arm out for an egg timer on her desk, set it, and said in forty of the same voice:
"Please begin."
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