Note: this story was just a thought exercise. It’s a little wacked out. I was sitting in my room feeling really tired, yet creative, so I just wrote out the stream of consciousness that came to me. I caught clusters of thoughts, images, and feelings and tried to describe them within this story…a single, linear narrative. So naturally, it is very broken up but I hope you’ll give it a chance since it did come out of me very quickly and I barely edited it. Just try not to take it too seriously, and know that it was more just an experiment.
Many people are just a reflection of their anthem. Some higher truth they secretly glimpsed…they are special for seeing it.
I just want to hibernate. I want to kill everything.
I am sitting in a little black cave. I walk over to the corner, and sit down in a different position. I look back into the previous corner I was sitting in. The fire is smoldering, and it’s raining outside. A distant mountain barks, and warmth – generous warmth – blankets me. A smile, and I’m sad. Crawling up to me, a smiling child. The sun hurts my thoughts.
What’s a flow anyways? Fog swamp monsters, broken minds that revive just to die…FUCK! SHUT THE FUCK UP!
And the camera falls into leaves…
I’m sitting on the moon, looking at the earth…
The earth smiles warmly back at me and says, “I’m here to teach you. And kill you.” I smile back and shiver, her personality fades and I’m left wondering if that was really the earth. The mystic fog of her shell is still ahead of me.
And while the thought perpetuates, her neck pokes up from South Africa, and she spirals towards me and flows around me, her head perching up to the left of my own. Her head is the size of my head. The earth’s head, that is, and it’s based in South Africa, like I just said.
She smiles and says, “Don’t be so closed minded.” A thousand clichés come whirling into my brain, and she slaps my emptiness like a human cheek. I’m switched into being awake.
I reel at her and she pulls a hand out of the earth, it was settled in Antarctica. She reaches toward me and cuts off…my head. I’m frantic at first, the chemicals spray and my soul and heart…sigh.
I sigh, because I remember it all. Very clearly, very madly but clearly. Just these personalities, that meant a lot to me. Who were they? Am I hallucinating?
…pushing my hand against its, and feeling paralyzed by contentedness.
Suddenly I am staring up a grassy hill. It does not make sense, since I just had my head cut off. There are trees surrounding me, and it is wet. It is probably approaching evening, but the light is plentiful. It streams through the trees in golden spots. The light and darkness contrast immensely. It’s overcast, but a richness is in the air and I can feel the blackness swirling into the wetness and the humidness, the pheromones of the trees contain me and calmly hold hands with my soul.
I walk up the hill quickly. Vaguer forms crop up around my vision…old friends.
I find my father and rush toward him, and cry against his arms briefly. His smile contains me, I cry and cry and he pats me on the back and whispers, “It’s ok. I don’t understand either.” When I try to look up, into his face, I’m met with a hole in a tree.
My mother waits for me at the top and I tell her, I wasn’t expecting the hill to end. She says nothing and my hand reaches out into her, and passes through her body like a hologram. The mud squishes, and my foot digs into the earth. The rain increases. Her face begins to soften. She stares at me still and her pores echo, I’m bored against her heart…
She lets out her hand and I step onto it. The sky echoes golden white paleness, I cry out that I need to go somewhere else and the gods seem to smile approvingly, but they also just love every person who’s ever lived! She flings me and I am stretched, with her, surreally like a camera zoom the space presses into me until, why, oh why, there is beyond me, myself…
…arching the stream back, I have to go back! Back to earth, back to the cave, back to the moon. Back to Trevor, back to Mom, back to Dad, back to Rowan! I have to go back! The gods screech but I pull myself downwards, I have to go back! Back into my heart, back into their eyes. I have to know, I have to go…it can’t just let me go, I have to GO!
A hand wraps itself around my head, and squeezes. I pop and sting and feel the fuzziness pull away. But my willpower screeches, I can’t go…
I cry and I am an old woman with a hood, smiling and porously, looking at the ground and I’m on the hill, that one from before. I’m smiling and my pheromones are doing the talking with the earth, its smell opening the ground and the blackness stems up like a nice, smooth secret. She archs at me with soft, pointed, shield-like eyes that could fly over battlements.
“Don’t go home,” she whispers. “You have much work to do…” I get upset, I scream at her that I can see past her and see through her and I can destroy her! I can break her! And in my screaming and screeching and destructive breaking of her, she whimpers and I’m left in an empty hell-scape. It is clear, in this moment, how connected everything is, and how clear the gods are in their intentions, although I often don’t trust them or listen to them. And I often mistake clear-cut story building for incoherence.
I feel her hand reaching out of this story and into me, the white of her eyes clear and arrows pointing at her words like an old lesson, an old school lesson that bores me. I smile and breathe out and see Henry, the color black and the knowledge of power while it rises in a flat background, emptiness, black power and emptiness stream…between the leaves…