She would fashion monsters from those things she found in the vast space around her; combinations of little bits of waste, sharp fragments woven together in a manner not unlike the fusing of skin. These things were hoarded and forgotten, and once uncovered found to be rotten beyond recognition. She wept at the fractured beauty found in such decay within the horrible constructs she had created, emphatically aware of the futility realised in the casual acknowledging of this crisis. Continue reading “Company”
I had spent most of my life inside a box, not quite fully formed; little pieces of skin and bone, nails and hair, held together in a web of partially fashioned membrane. My space was dark and warm, mostly unknown, but comfortable and inviting- there was little room to move, but space enough to exist. I did much of what I wanted most days, glorious variables of nothing. I existed merely to exist, in the most comfortable way possible. Did I have a mind, I might have known that I was entirely happy, essentially limitless, essentially.
One day however my box was knocked, and what might have been my stomach informed me that my gravity was changing direction at an accelerated speed. The roof of my box became a wall and fell outwards into the dim, unfamiliar outside. There I lay still for many hours before eventually my indistinct sense of curiosity led me to emerge onto the street, the damp asphalt glimmering slightly as the rain continued to tumble from the sky. Continue reading “The Tale of the Box Creature”
The weeks had passed in a pall of sorrow and grey. Sometimes it was quite beautiful, the sombre nature of loss; other times bathtub was a fitting conclusion, a place to submerge my head beneath the water and feel my lungs palpitate with absolute frenzy. I had visitors, they ascended the stairs with a sense of self-righteousness and regurgitated notions of the warmth of the afterlife. They took my biscuits and offered advice, and in my head I liked to imagine the angels came and danced you into your grave, engrossed by their own indecency and the resonance of their own laughter. But most of all I liked to lay in bed and think about you rotting in the ground, a delicious insincerity against the warmth of the afterlife, personified in decomposing flesh and the scent of carrion. Continue reading “Infinity”