Some more random short stories (and this one is very strange, I promise) that I wrote while on a binge of stream-of-consciousness stories. So apologies in advance for what is probably one of the oddest, but still most fun, things I’ve ever had the pleasure of writing. Enjoy please 🙂
And the sights blurred into a single continuous stream of color. The reds melding with purple and curdling with a sickly looking green. I know not why my stomach contracts and acid burns through walls, leaving me wholly unable to breathe. The crows wings beat once, twice, and are silent – the silence stretching like the band of stars spanning the ocean floor and screaming. Like the railways beating into the earth with blows that ache and damage.
The way out is shut, and the stars are screaming. My hands shake and all at once the fingers are black, dancing with flames. We are apart, torn asunder by the flames that freeze with burning heat. The heart is burnt out of me, perishing as I watch your body twist and tumblr into a million pieces of ash that cry out in pain.
The blood clenches in the space my heart should be, pumping although the thump-thump is gone – missing. And the ever present smile on my face is swept away as the ashes leave black streaks that tear my skin as though it was the paper thin pages of a bible. So torn apart we are not, together as rivets and streams of my blood paint the ground red.
Can grass even be so dark, stained with black and wine-colored liquid?
The spider-webbed muscles are then suddenly gone, like trees missing their leaves on a winters day, and I can touch my cheekbones – tenderly.
It is not safe here. The wind cries and the ground has holes that have a soul. Open – close and what not.
The path is gone, closed with thorny branches and dark souls, shapes tearing with pointed teeth. We watch each other for a moment and suddenly, death greets me as a long lost lover seems. Seems like the hug of a friend or the gasp of air that family bestows upon their most loved.
Fall, a voice whispers. Fall and don’t look back. All that remains is pain, horror. And is that so bad that obeying the voice is akin to embracing an old friend. heart lost. Head taken. The dark is smothering. Thousands of blankets, sheets and comforters – piled like a tower to heaven – I and as their base.
Breathe. No. But I cannot see the light., and does really see what light is? Absence of the dark, the light is a pain driven shriek. No! The Light burns, scratches me and I scream. Darkness can burn too, and we twirl around each other, the darkness and I. Scream. Twist.
And it’s being ripped from me. The force of smothering love is taken, stolen as I stand cowering like a child, shivering and alone in this place. Of light and no darkness.
Can all light be just as bad as black? The burning is like invasion as my vision sharpens and eyes become like knifes. My skin is on fire. There are no rivets, no breaks and no scars on my skin – impeccable like a white piece of paper.
Who had I lost? A friend, a lover? The knowledge is flung away cruelly. And burning strikes my brain like a serrated saw. Back and forth, taking my past and the darkness curdling in the corner of my stomach.
Help, I try to scream, but no one is listening. Who has ears here? The pain will not stop. I cannot breathe. Who am I?
The identity of darkness, of light, is torn. Ripped like old hotel paper and the song begins: The grinding sound of gears, the rewinding.
I was broken, my clock is fixed again.