purple jelly monsters

I’m in clearing in the middle of a rolling thick forest. It’s dark. A fairly large community of people started living here ever since a Black Magician put a spell over the land. We live in trailers and eat whatever we can scavenge. There is a political science club that holds classes on political theory — I am in this club — and we are currently studying for a national test that will award a monetary scholarship to those who score in the top 5 percent. I couldn’t care less, but I’m still kept up at night trying to solve annoying practice test questions. The teachers of this preparatory class are my former high school professors — I know they don’t like me very much.
Life in the forest has a very cinematic quality to it. Everything feels predetermined, as if at any moment someone much larger will hit an otherworldly fast-forward or rewind button. Tension is running high through the community. Word is out that the Black Magician will be up to something particularly sinister this evening (and this is the night before the big test on political theory!).
The ground begins to tremble and the surrounding trees are swaying frantically, though the sky is nursing no wind. Over the treetops an enormous glowing purple mountain begins to amass . . .  no, not a mountain . . . .   It has eyes! And a dreadfully large mouth lined with razor-sharp teeth! A giant beast is approaching! It’s body is a bit translucent through a hazy purple hue, with stout arms and legs protruding from its robust round figure.
As it enters the clearing I can see that it is at least thirty trees tall. Almost immediately it explodes into hundreds of large jelly balls . . . and then those balls explode into thousands of smaller one. This multiplication of itself happens about four more times until the earth is covered in millions of balls the size of a human hand. Deep dimples form in the balls, two of which fill in with mean glaring eyes, and one which hollows out into a sharp hungry hole. I have a gun that shoots lightening. I take aim and fire, but my weapon is useless against the ravished jelly beasts. My childhood friend (Joe) drive up in a cardboard bus. He is going to save the day (or at least that is the sentiment that his arrival elicits). About thirty people dressed in white assemble against side of the bus — they form a wall, three people high, standing on top of each others’ shoulders. Suddenly a massive saw blade begins slicing through the bus, and it passes smoothly through the bodies of the people whose white clothes are now red with blood. They collapse into a withering pile of limbs and heads. The monsters are hypnotized by the spectacle, and quickly begin to gorge themselves on the human offering. After being hypnotized, myself, for a few moments over the feasting monsters, I make my way to a quite trailer at the edge of the village. I have to inquire about a particularly difficult question that I’m nervous is going to be on the test in the morning.
Freakin’ test! Do I really need to take it? I hate these kinds of tests!

a backup soul

They were tearing the backs off of toads. It starts with a tiny cut under the neck. And then a pry of the blade against a thumb.
It comes off fairly smooth, a tiny slab of forest green lumps and bumps — an exquisite splash of raw red flesh glistening against a silver moody sky.

Why are they doing this?  To what avail?
I look into the creature’s eyes, searching for something . . . anything.  I find nothing.
A cursed stone face — unable to convey its agony. It mocks us, and renders us soulless.

Perhaps nothing I find, because nothing is what I seek?
“Give me that knife.”
It’s time I look beyond my own reflection in a set of glossy golden eyes. There’s got to be a ghost in here somewhere.
And I’m going to find it. I need to find it.  ♨

we are young supernovas

I’m in an abandoned shopping mall with two others. We’re not entirely sure what’s going on. The world seems to have stopped turning, and most people have disappeared. We’ve heard that a few, whom we don’t care for very much, are still lurking about. We have this strong inkling that it would be a terrible idea to leave the mall. It’s dangerous outside — maybe zombies, maybe thieves, maybe our arch nemeses.  But than again, it’s dangerous in the mall too. We are in it, and we’re growing more desperate every hour. The only food is a buffet table with baskets full of black putrefying bananas. The two others are good people. I know they are, but this situation is getting to us, and we are growing distant and locked into our own minds. One is male, he has short blond hair and he’s physically fit — he reminds me of my childhood friend, Justin. The other is female, named Tali, she is also fit with blond hair — I know her.

I’m walking past the buffet table, it’s on my right. I keep walking and the outside wall is gone. Crystal blue waters are lapping against the pink tile floor. The ocean has come for us. The water is shallow by the end of the mall, but there is a large sand pool just a few meters away, and a tiger stares at me hungrily from that pool. We cannot leave by sea. I quickly retreat back into the mall and see a large silo. It has no doors, but it has a ladder. I race up it to see how fast I can get off the ground — I know that tiger will come for me eventually, and it’s a safe place. I get to the top and the hatch opens, but it is small, and the roof comes to a triangular point anyway. The walls are wide, and the ladder is made of thin round metal — it’s very uncomfortable, I couldn’t last up here for more then a few minutes.
I climb down and go back deeper into the mall. I see Justin, he says “He’s coming!”, and bolts past me. I follow and when I round the corner, he’s in one of the elevators, but the door quickly closes before I get in. I don’t know where Tali is, but I hope she is well hidden in one of the hotel rooms upstairs — “He” is coming to find her really, not us.  I hide in a darkened corner for a bit, and then make my way towards the silo. As I’m walking past the buffet table “He” is there. The bananas are all yellow and plump, and he has a smirk on his face. He’s a round man of medium height, I’ve never seen him before, but just through his smile and smell I know I never want to again. He’s running his fingers over the bananas, they are a present for Tali — there’s hundreds of them. We make are way to the crystal blue waters — our eyes locked into each others’ feverish gaze. He is confident and unafraid. He standing with his back to the ocean. It is dark now and three moons hang above the water, each within its own phase. Justin is there. He begins punching the fat man on the face, the man make no motion. Justin steps to few paces left. They are both staring at me, entranced, muttering, muttering in some foreign language. The man breaks his rapture and grabs a sword out of a tall bejeweled umbrella vase and slices Justin’s right arm. He drops the sword in front of himself pleased and fearless of retaliation. He raises his shirt to reveal his round belly as a meaty grin stretches across his face. Justin grabs the sword and slices him longways just above his bellybutton. At first nothing . . . and then a thin red line appears, and then it opens wider and wider, redder and wider — then streams of blood and gobs of guts gush out of him. He collapses to the floor unnaturally, like a Jacob’s Ladder. Eyeballs and living rats slither out of his ghastly wound. His face is white, mouth agape; his skin wrinkly and thin, hanging off his bones, too big for his deflated body.
We race back to the elevators and call for Tali. We decide it’s time to brave the greater world.

We’re in a truck driving through a small town. People are about. Nothing seems wrong.
Is nothing wrong? Were we wrong??
I see my friend Rachel, and tell her to climb into the truck, she does and we start driving out of town. With her she brings a peace that we’ve forgotten. The road vanishes and we are speeding through a field of large flowers, every peddle a different color; and although it is night, their glimmer is spectacular. They seem pixelated, as if we are in a digital film or video game. I look behind us and the flowers are fine, our tires do not crush them. We are light and laughing and quickly approaching the ocean and its moons — with no intention of slowing down when we meet them. ♨

fearful explosions

They planted explosives under the produce. The store is open. Now they are tracing spools of thick orange wire across the distant isles. This isn’t a covert operation, but people aren’t paying any attention. I see them however, and a deep sorrowful pain rises in my stomach — I know what they are going to do. And I know they are planning on doing it at a time that will yield the most damage. I pace the isles, keeping my eye on them. I don’t know what to do. I can’t talk. My anxiety has gotten the best of me. So I just watch in terror as they work methodically, without emotion. Why are my friends doing this? The fear rises from my stomach to my head, my eyes open.  ♨

black snow

It’s a red night, and the city’s narrow streets are full of a gritty blackish slush, 3 sloppy inches thick. My feet are getting wet and spirits low. I’m looking for someone — for my brother, Joseph. We were doing a photo shoot of a fucked up version of the “Alice in Wonderland” tea party. Everyone involved is getting anxious, and I am worried that they will turn violent soon. Their teeth have been removed for the shoot, and they look terrified and resentful. Where is my damn brother! If I don’t find him soon these toothless freaks will rip me apart with their wooden hands and black gums. ♨

eight breasted beast

I am going to the home of Ezy, a fiercely libertarian New Mexican savage–a massive amount of construction is happening, new red brick pathways are being either being put in or torn out. I get into the house and Ezy’s hair has been shaved on the sides, much like mine was a few minutes before. I left mine long at the bangs though, despite being told it wasn’t a fashionable decision. Ezy’s is shorter. He leads me through the house, Dorthy is with me. We pass his family, all of whom have the sides of their heads shaved, and I spot a tiny sculpture of a deformed head that his wife has made. I comment on it and say that I like her work. We are led into a tiny room that has glass walls–it’s almost as if we are on display in the room. The room is cornered in the house, and only two walls are made of glass and don’t have a right angle parting them, instead the glass is curved. Suddenly it goes dark and think, opaque walls form–I start to feel an immense uneasiness grow within me. Dorthy turns violent. Her arms elongate and she digs her nails into the 10 foot high ceiling, which looks like an oriental rug, and begins running back and forth tearing it down. She then starts running around the room destroying the walls with her shoulders, she is moving at a terribly inhuman speed and full of deranged power–she’s obviously possessed with something of a malignant nature. The lighting begins to flicker violently and then, as if the destruction she was causing was some sort of unholy rite, a space in the center of the room clears itself of all the debris. I am in the center of this awful cyclone, and I begin to stretch out unnaturally. My face begins to elongate downwards, my eyes cave in to small black points. I feel this transformation happening in my bones, and simultaneously I am watching it happen from across the room. My nose disappears, and my mouth turns into a tiny round hole. My face looks similar to that of a truncated anteater’s and black, stripped marking line the sides of my face. I begin to grow breasts, eight of them form–they are of various sizes and shapes and the nipple is uniquely different on each. Dorthy begins batting at my breasts, taunting me, but I don’t have full control of this new body. It is only responds with tiny movements as I strain within it. I am in a terrible state of panic, there is a part of me that is aware that I am asleep and knows my mind can not heal from this metamorphosis if it is allowed it to continue–so with all my might I will myself awake. ♨