TheDeceased
Ex-Bluelighter
Once upon a time, in a place far away... well, not that far away, not like outer space or anything, but not next door either, you know? Let’s say quite a distance... But then again I guess that depends where you are when you’re reading this story because it may well have been translated by now into a language decipherable by the indigenous beings that inhabit it. In other words, maybe the characters are reading it themselves.
So, let me start again.
Once upon a time there was a... hrm... sorry to interrupt again – but, I’m taking for granted that time travel isn’t invented while this story is still in publication, in which case it wouldn’t be “Once Upon a time” at all. It could be now, as you're reading it that the story takes place.
Okay... to clarify:
At some point in time (either now, in the past, or in the future) and at some place (here, there or anywhere) there was a serpent... but it wasn’t really a serpent. It swam through the air and twisted itself into amusing shapes like a balloon animal.
I asked it its name, but its reply was separate from the question, something subconscious and more significant than titles. I smiled politely and continued down my path, dreams and colours caressing me from every flower, every blade of grass. The serpent continued to dance and perform tricks for my amusement.
Everything was familiar and completely different at the same time. Like a world made of details that you’ve never bothered to recognize. A feeling of indescribably harmony covered me, like an invisible blanket. I felt like a tree. Like one of the strange, alien protrusions surrounding me.
It became unnecessary to differentiate between surfaces or shapes. Mass, in its entirety was joined. As if every person, every animal, every thing was moulded from the exterior of a huge ball of clay.
The arrangement of molecules in our body doesn’t make us question our own wholeness. Brain cells are quite different to red blood cells, for example, yet we understand that they are symbiotic in some way because we see, with our eyes, our physical bodies. From our perspective it’s obvious.
But from the perspective of the microscopic organisms living inside us, perhaps they don’t regard themselves as part of a greater being. Just as many of us humans don’t regard ourselves as connected part of the universe.
I closed my eyes and basked under the glow of both the moon and the sun. There was no hurry; no reason to propel myself, unprepared.
“Flies,” she said.
The words had no context, but they weren’t an amusing example of spontaneity either, nor profound. In fact, I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about... or who she was.
I opened my eyes to see the crescent moon eclipsing the sun as the great star fell over the horizon.
Looking down, I discovered a cat... or what seemed like a cat at first glance. You could never be sure in this place. It walked up, a little cautiously, and rubbed itself on my leg, purring. Meanwhile, I continued to scan my surroundings for whoever had spoken to me.
“Flies,” came the voice again, “have never tasted so bad.”
I looked down at the cat as it started lurching forward as if it was coughing up a hairball. Instead, a lump of flies came out, covered with saliva, and bounced along the ground. It looked up at me with a very serious tone in its eyes.
“I can’t stomach them anymore.”
I looked back at the ball of flies to discover that it had become a hairball. Or perhaps it was a hairball all along and I was just imagining things. Suddenly the cat jumped into my arms, nuzzling its head into my armpit and purring loudly. I felt awkward holding it, as if it was someone else’s baby that had been forced upon me. But it quickly grew on me. The warmth of its body was a nice change from being alone for so long.
I reached forward and ran my fingers through its coat and it rolled onto its belly for a scratch, but as I indulged it I felt movement between its fur, and then I caught sight of something black crawling past my fingertip. In a split second they were everywhere. Like maggots with legs devouring her from the outside in and inside out.
I pulled my hand away and shook them from my fingernails, as they tried to scurry inside.
The cat I had picked up was dead, stiff legs sticking out in obscure directions, face half eaten, eyeballs infested with carnivorous bugs.
As the bugs crawled up my arms and under my shirt, the moon finished its eclipse and since the great star had long since disappeared, it became night – instantly. It was as if someone had turned off a light switch in the sky.
Violently, I threw the corpse into the darkness and ripped off my shirt, blindly trying rid myself of the bugs, despite the fact that for some reason I could no longer feel them.
“Flies,” she said.
This time I knew who she was, but I wished that I didn’t. I felt her rubbing against my leg again, purring, and I jumped backwards, tripping over something and landing hard on my head.
Her rough tongue lapped at my face. It felt like wet sandpaper. Out of her mouth I felt insects crawling onto me, presumably broadening their horizons and trying out meat that isn’t rotting for a change; a contagious death march from her tongue into my nostril. Assuming that I’m not rotting that is.
I can’t move after all.
I felt that oneness with nature, in a different way this time, like I wasn’t part of the plan but rather an anomaly, being forcibly rejected by everything around me. Still connected, but connected as the enemy, as a virus. It made more sense really. I had spent my life selfishly destroying, consciously contributing to the destruction of everything good and beautiful.
Slowly the moon passed the sun and illumination returned.
The trees had taken on different forms. They now looked frozen in a state of attack, as if they were trying to reach out and crush me, but simply living on a different timeline. I wondered if I had stood there for a thousand years if they would reach me, piercing me through the abdomen with one of their pointy limbs.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, the pain in my head had gone away and I was upright. Everything was beautiful once more. The trees were my friends, the air invisible veins between us. I filled my lungs with air that was fresher than I had ever experienced.
My mind was clear and focused.
“Meow,” she said and I picked her up and kissed her on the nose.
The End.
So, let me start again.
Once upon a time there was a... hrm... sorry to interrupt again – but, I’m taking for granted that time travel isn’t invented while this story is still in publication, in which case it wouldn’t be “Once Upon a time” at all. It could be now, as you're reading it that the story takes place.
Okay... to clarify:
At some point in time (either now, in the past, or in the future) and at some place (here, there or anywhere) there was a serpent... but it wasn’t really a serpent. It swam through the air and twisted itself into amusing shapes like a balloon animal.
I asked it its name, but its reply was separate from the question, something subconscious and more significant than titles. I smiled politely and continued down my path, dreams and colours caressing me from every flower, every blade of grass. The serpent continued to dance and perform tricks for my amusement.
Everything was familiar and completely different at the same time. Like a world made of details that you’ve never bothered to recognize. A feeling of indescribably harmony covered me, like an invisible blanket. I felt like a tree. Like one of the strange, alien protrusions surrounding me.
It became unnecessary to differentiate between surfaces or shapes. Mass, in its entirety was joined. As if every person, every animal, every thing was moulded from the exterior of a huge ball of clay.
The arrangement of molecules in our body doesn’t make us question our own wholeness. Brain cells are quite different to red blood cells, for example, yet we understand that they are symbiotic in some way because we see, with our eyes, our physical bodies. From our perspective it’s obvious.
But from the perspective of the microscopic organisms living inside us, perhaps they don’t regard themselves as part of a greater being. Just as many of us humans don’t regard ourselves as connected part of the universe.
I closed my eyes and basked under the glow of both the moon and the sun. There was no hurry; no reason to propel myself, unprepared.
“Flies,” she said.
The words had no context, but they weren’t an amusing example of spontaneity either, nor profound. In fact, I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about... or who she was.
I opened my eyes to see the crescent moon eclipsing the sun as the great star fell over the horizon.
Looking down, I discovered a cat... or what seemed like a cat at first glance. You could never be sure in this place. It walked up, a little cautiously, and rubbed itself on my leg, purring. Meanwhile, I continued to scan my surroundings for whoever had spoken to me.
“Flies,” came the voice again, “have never tasted so bad.”
I looked down at the cat as it started lurching forward as if it was coughing up a hairball. Instead, a lump of flies came out, covered with saliva, and bounced along the ground. It looked up at me with a very serious tone in its eyes.
“I can’t stomach them anymore.”
I looked back at the ball of flies to discover that it had become a hairball. Or perhaps it was a hairball all along and I was just imagining things. Suddenly the cat jumped into my arms, nuzzling its head into my armpit and purring loudly. I felt awkward holding it, as if it was someone else’s baby that had been forced upon me. But it quickly grew on me. The warmth of its body was a nice change from being alone for so long.
I reached forward and ran my fingers through its coat and it rolled onto its belly for a scratch, but as I indulged it I felt movement between its fur, and then I caught sight of something black crawling past my fingertip. In a split second they were everywhere. Like maggots with legs devouring her from the outside in and inside out.
I pulled my hand away and shook them from my fingernails, as they tried to scurry inside.
The cat I had picked up was dead, stiff legs sticking out in obscure directions, face half eaten, eyeballs infested with carnivorous bugs.
As the bugs crawled up my arms and under my shirt, the moon finished its eclipse and since the great star had long since disappeared, it became night – instantly. It was as if someone had turned off a light switch in the sky.
Violently, I threw the corpse into the darkness and ripped off my shirt, blindly trying rid myself of the bugs, despite the fact that for some reason I could no longer feel them.
“Flies,” she said.
This time I knew who she was, but I wished that I didn’t. I felt her rubbing against my leg again, purring, and I jumped backwards, tripping over something and landing hard on my head.
Her rough tongue lapped at my face. It felt like wet sandpaper. Out of her mouth I felt insects crawling onto me, presumably broadening their horizons and trying out meat that isn’t rotting for a change; a contagious death march from her tongue into my nostril. Assuming that I’m not rotting that is.
I can’t move after all.
I felt that oneness with nature, in a different way this time, like I wasn’t part of the plan but rather an anomaly, being forcibly rejected by everything around me. Still connected, but connected as the enemy, as a virus. It made more sense really. I had spent my life selfishly destroying, consciously contributing to the destruction of everything good and beautiful.
Slowly the moon passed the sun and illumination returned.
The trees had taken on different forms. They now looked frozen in a state of attack, as if they were trying to reach out and crush me, but simply living on a different timeline. I wondered if I had stood there for a thousand years if they would reach me, piercing me through the abdomen with one of their pointy limbs.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, the pain in my head had gone away and I was upright. Everything was beautiful once more. The trees were my friends, the air invisible veins between us. I filled my lungs with air that was fresher than I had ever experienced.
My mind was clear and focused.
“Meow,” she said and I picked her up and kissed her on the nose.
The End.
