Sunday, July 31, 2011

Simulating Past

Serene is the atmosphere. It’s a woman. It’s a woman on a bench. It’s a woman on a bench by a beach. The frozen imperfection smacks of auteurism. She has her back to the screen. Hairs windblown. Waves flutter. Sky quicksilver. Time lapses. She has her front to the screen. Smiling. Brings a hand to face, covers half her face. Half smiling.

There’s sound. Chuckle. Boy kid, girl kid. Screen freezes, stirs again. She arises. Four of them walk out the screen. They’re in his room. Half living, half beaming, but for real. For him they are. They face the screen from the outside. Waves crash against the screen. It’s a giant tank of violent waves. Parents cling to each other, kids cling to parents. Untouched. Drops seep through the frame.

The End


The world as Issac knew it ended half a decade ago. The massive tsunami that sank half the earth had destroyed his sister, too, with her family. He isn’t mourning as much as he was a few years ago but his counselor’s advice “march onward” hasn’t sunk deep into his psyche. For some people, you can never get them wholly over their grief.


The life-size screen freezes, stirs again. She arises. Four of them walk out the screen. They’re in his room. Half living, half beaming, but for real. They face him. Sound. They say ‘Hello, young man’. Waves crash against the screen. They emote oblivious to what’s behind them. ‘We heard the screening went well.’ Kids run to him. Untouched, unmoved, in motion. He takes his finger off the “Edit”. Drops seep through the frame. Says ‘Howdy’. Types.

Do Not End


Thursday, July 28, 2011

His First Defeat

There’s virtually nothing that Manickam couldn’t do. He just recently helped capture two corrupt undercover cops of his panchayat. Right at this moment, he is in the zoo un-teething a two-hour-old cadaver. He’d feed it to the lioness when this craft of his is complete. His accomplice comes and tells him. He’s rather cut short before he begins.

Why is it that, Rafeek, you’re good at nothing and why is that I end up doing everything you’re bad at?

The accomplice scratches his cheek and tells.

This youngness I couldn’t shoo off wants to see you right away. Looks like we’re neck deep in thick soup.

Highness rolls the bracelet up his arm, blinks hard twice and feels his contacts. She’s already here clearing her throat. He knocks the molars out and pulls the dental speculum off.

She’s not undercover, brightness. Our clientele, insha Allah! First you collect the teeth, bury them in the pit, leave the pit be. Let the lion out and in its cage, then and only then the boars. Don’t you mess it up like last time!

She stands offish leaning by the tree, takes a call and swears the first word. Highness comes to her.

Everything all right? Guy broke a heart, I broke his head. Nothing personal.

She clears her throat.

Excuse me.

Oh! Fact is he opened her chest as she still breathed, cut her heart out, squeezed it with his foot. Caught half way eating it. Got out with influence.

She clears throat again.

Didn’t work out. Sweetness wouldn’t go down first thing on me much as he wants me to. Gave it ‘nother shot after twelve hours. Same thing – wouldn’t go down first thing much as wants me to. We broke up. Didn’t get what I wanted. Can’t blame you, it’s him.

Sweetness is a good kid. That he knew. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t want to please Youngness like she wants him to. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t. There’s a reason he wouldn’t stay married long if he ever did marry. There’s a reason there should be turbulence if he did. Ever since he got married, unlike him, Brightness wasn’t himself. It’s time to seek replacement while he’s still unconsciously not given away. Old accomplice could shift to a sober job. Highness is thinking.

Can’t see why. Don’t know why not. Thought the kid was good… is good at everything else he does.

She isn’t mad except a little upset. It’s happened before, might happen again. Highness may want to hook her up with ‘nother lad except he isn’t certain.

Leaving town. Can’t stand it here. Nice setup this, by the way, here owning the zoo and all.

Highness will live to sixty-five, plus or minus five years behind bars, and mete out blind justice until fifty-five. He will face a handful of defeats in the time to come but this one he will much fondly remember than the rest. Youngness sought after him… she wanted to get laid was all.


Sunday, July 24, 2011

This Game Called Life

The schoolyard was blazing beneath a scorching sun. Before one peer persuaded two it was two-ten in the noon. It wasn’t the best place to be when you were bunking classes. ‘So you wanna go to the cave and hunt or muck about the dock.’ Vinay asked Karim and gazed Krish so that he wouldn’t feel ignored. ‘Cave for sure. I like the sound of it.’ Krish talked just when Vinay thought the answer was hard to come by. ‘Don’t you, Karim.’ They boarded the school bus. ‘NCC, off to city… (!) city hall.’ The mall is just half a mile away from the hall.

‘Tell me this… I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but were you adopted?’ Vinay asked Karim out of curiosity. ‘Not I, it was Krish little after his dad died in a fire accident.’ Karim put it as deftly as he could. The fact goes something like this. Krish’s dad, while Krish was still being gestated, stood on an empty street before a monument with a fidgetily timed bomb in his hand saying his prayers before he was to leave the lap bag in the marketplace.

The CCTV above had a broken neck for months together and would play nothing but static when played. He went up in flames before he finished his prayers and took with him a dule of doves. As soon as he weaned off breastfeeding, his biological mother gave him up for adoption and a little after that she married a cop next street. He wants to become an anticorruption officer when he grows up. Krish hasn’t mustered enough courage to tell Karim this ambition of his because he knows his brother wants to become a professional thief, the ambition he loathes and envies all at once.

‘So does that mean he prays so many times a day and you recite mantras?’ Vinay asked Krish after hearing a briefing of their lives. ‘Yeah, except we don’t like it at all – the religious mumbo jumbo of any kind, that is. We’ve protested countless times. If it goes unheeded we’ve made our mind up soon as one of us turns 15 we’d flee from home.’ Krish spoke for both of them. ‘That’s friggin’ C.’

‘Where’s the cave?’ Karim asked getting quizzical. ‘See the trap door. We’ve got to come a gory-go-round before we get there.’ Vinay spoke to his peers pointing to the floor. Three pairs of feet touched the ground. When as many pairs of eyes adjusted to the pitch-darkness, under a red-to-yellow glow, they saw skeletons dangling and laid about, foxes with fixed gazes, xombies that whisked past. One of them came staggering, stood barricading the way. ‘Piss off fuck what.’ Krish didn’t take too kindly to the idea of elbowing his way through awkward walkers. ‘Mind your language, wet pant. Underneath it all there may well be people.’ Karim had one of those chances to correct his ever-correcting brother.

When they came a half circle, they came upon a seeming dead-end. ‘This is the mouth of the cave.’ Vinay presented himself before the brothers. ‘Now, rule of the game. You leave only after finishing it.’ That isn’t bad because no one leaves a game unfinished. ‘So now the crucial revelation. This is a banned hunting.’ That’s all the more reason why anyone would want to hunt. ‘I was introduced here by two peers of mine and now I introduce you. No one walks in here all by themselves.’ That’s a privilege.

‘You pick a wolf to hunt but know that the cows are swift. You attack a bar-coded cow you get busted. Mind you, the bar code is too tiny to spot from a distance. This is a game for one. When you get good at it we can upgrade to the game for two and three where we get to pick cows if we want.’ They dropped the coin in. The portal turned on, they were ready to go parked on cushion, feet set to pedals, hands to controls. ‘Lemme tell you it’s infinitely better than watching Transformers 12 in 4D.’

‘How many times did you get busted, Karim?’ ‘A whooping ten!’ ‘Not as bad as me then.’ After what seemed like an hour, it was four hours really, when the game was won on all three portals the mouth of the cave sprang open like a door to freedom. ‘So this is what you meant by being able to leave.’ Krish said agape. ‘Hello, thieves and transgressors!’ They heard a voice and turned their heads to find a man standing cuffs jingling in his hands. ‘Run Vinay…run!’ They jumped the door, mingled with the crowd, gasped for breath.

‘Frankly speaking, for all its innovation, I found the game a bit too lame.’ Karim spoke how it came to his mind. ‘I thought five blocks down is a game where you get to hunt ideologies.’ He tossed a tiny something to Krish. ‘Oh, that’s…!’ ‘Oh yeah, that’s a clavicle, right, to be precise.’ ‘Six floors from here is a game that’s twice as much fun.’ Vinay said in a muted tone. ‘It’s called Killing Gods. Lemme tell you it’s load of fun to kill even the seven minor gods.’ ‘That’s exactly what I want to play…right away if we may. Shall we, Krish…it’s not even eight.’

A muffled noise akin to thunder echoed (!) down the floor. When viewed upward through the spiral staircase, there was smoke or dust out of the ninth floor. It turned dark the next second and drops hit the floor. ‘It’s raining in here. Let’s run outside...time for some ice cream.’ They ran as half the crowd, puzzled, stood riveted and the rest ran along. They got to the parlor counter running across a half deserted lane, there was yet another noise behind... with scoops in their hands walked back to the lane, melting ice uncared for stood there and watched something this terrible this close for the very first time. Homing thousands inside it, the ten-storied city mall was burning as it came crumbling down. Aerially viewed below, the city was one dry leaf set ablaze at its heart.


P.S. – People ran amuck. Others buried alive or dead beneath the debris were those with lesser luck (!)


Friday, July 22, 2011

One Passionate Moment

{Fast Forward}

On a table, the great ephemeral skin lies splayed out. Black on the outside and likewise, and not red or white, on the inside… is it burning degree six? I consider the minutes before burning degree zero: supple skin pressed against supple skin, warmth given and taken, adrenaline rushing, the moments of caressing, kissing, suckling of pores, and the kindling of passion, rising and rising upward, the triggering of that unheard of sparkle… from the base of spine?

{Fast Forward}

Blood report reads positive alcohol in the system of the male victim. GI report confirms overly gaseous intestine.

{Fast Forward}

Aided by ethyl alcohol and gasses of the male, passion lit up… kundalini? Female victim, sustained burns degree four, from her lover’s embrace could’ve escaped but for male’s upper limb burn contractures. A singular twin case of spontaneous human combustion—male source of flame himself, female source of flame male—here resolved. Case closed …?


Ephemeral skin lies…


William Zahida.  Paranormal Sleuthing.  Case one.  Opening!

No olfactory trace of fuels of any kind… I smell burnt human fat. No visual trace of cigarette…or electric dildo… I see lovers smoked up… charred and embraced.



Monday, July 18, 2011

When Dreams Bleed

‘You don’t treat a guest from another planet like that, you just don’t’ one man said to another. ‘If you’re desperate about it you can always ask nicely for it. You don’t want to send them wrong signals, especially on someone’s very first visit, you don’t.’ He ripped her clothes off and forced himself on her. That was what the other man did. Taking the advice, he went back and this man for no reason at all stood scratching his head. He heard a deafening scream and turned to see. The woman’s hands put together was one long double-edged blade and the other man had himself suspended on it guts out. She jerked her hands as if dusting off and her prey was flung across two corners in two pieces.

‘It’s you…I want you to ask me nicely’ woman said to man. The airbase wasn’t humid and hot as it was yesterday or the day before. His feet wanted to take flight but his mind wouldn’t take its signals. His skin began to leak like never before. He stood there paralyzed. ‘Don’t you see I’m all undressed up? Pants down, Man RK!’ Planet Arse beneath his feet began to sink. ‘All you’ve got to do is straight penetrate. You just don’t cross with this woman of Anus.’ With that said, she helped him penetrate. The cogs between her legs began to spin. He began to scream and bleed through his nose. Soon, his loin was flattened. ‘Did you have your sex reversed? How funny is that?’ Like a pipe sans faucet blood shot from his genital stump.


Veda awoke bathed in sweat. Her blanket weighed heavy on her and underneath it she felt wet. First things first! Head spinning, she ran to the bath with the bloodstained sheets and with herself. She felt as though her old self was still in bed, the person detergenting water someone else, although it felt funny, someone new, someone out of control. ‘In case it happens, these are the preliminaries you will do well to keep in mind…’ her sister-in-law had told her. ‘You don’t let anyone know it happened while you’re still there. Have your backup pills for cramps and pads, when in pain imagine your hands were severed and imagine excruciating pain. You don’t even tell it to your mother while there. You never know she might give into her old-fashioned elders. You don’t want to be showcased to the entire town that the daughter of our home has come of age and is ready to mate. You don’t want to go through the trauma your childhood friends go through.’

Spic and span she washed the clothes and herself and restlessly padded herself. At breakfast, she couldn’t keep her favorite dish down but pushed herself to. After she did the same for lunch, she threw up inside a locked door. She couldn’t read, she couldn’t watch a film, she couldn’t keep her mind on one single thing. The next evening, she visited the backwater called Bildungsro Man with her friend Kumari. ‘I feel like I’m torn between two personalities—’ one girl said to another ‘—a girl and a woman, neither here nor there.’ She said it all to a friend she trusted the most. She felt relieved telling it. ‘I won’t tell anyone’ her friend said holding hands. ‘I wouldn’t have felt bad even if you’d told me over the phone after going back to the city.’ She kept very little down for dinner. Later in the night, sitting in a corner, clutching her belly, she cried her heart out. There were three more days left in the village for her to endure. Two more nights she told herself. She double-padded herself and went to bed.


‘Why become like this…like you’re someone’s nightmare’ one woman said to another. ‘Wasn’t my fault’ she pled not guilty. ‘It was one bloody thing led to another.’ ‘You’re a trespasser’ the judge accused her. ‘You’ve breached the bond between us and the men of Arse. We had them name our planet; we named them like they wanted. They have us for slaves; we have them for our slaves. The slaves mate on all fours, this is how we breed. The privileged among us mate on twos and once in a while one forces itself on another.’ ‘Once in a while?’ whispered ten thousand voices. ‘Order’ yelled the judge banging the bell, and continued. ‘You had someone force itself on you, yes, that they do not deny. You in turn forced yourself on not only your perpetrator, had its companion castrated too. Had you not, they would’ve been obliged to execute the perpetrator. As it is, we are obliged to execute you and that is justice for all. Since you’ve damaged two men ranked RK, your sentence shall unimaginably be unwholesome’. ‘I’d rather not exist at all than exist in this baseborn of an existence’ she screamed as she was led out of court. ‘It’s not uncommon, do you not know’ the priest tried to pacify her. ‘When you’re broken in this world you wake up anew in another.’ ‘Someone cut this load of crap’ interrupted a commoner. ‘Stop making angels out of demons.’

A slave woman gnarled at a slave man. They bounced on each other and rolled on the ground. When she was back up on all fours, he came circling around her and smelled her behind. Then he mounted on her and began to thrust his hips. When done, they fed on the spilled guts, liver and the rest and lapped up on a river of blood. Out in the open, she had her limbs tied and pulled apart in two directions. Her heart was preserved in the hall of Died Here, Lived Elsewhere. Over here, Veda awoke to her darkest night and never managed to fall back asleep that night. She kept drinking water for the rest of night and kept it down off and on until it was dawn for a brand new day.


Thursday, July 14, 2011

Impotent Transcendence

I'll shoot, Lady, with my mind he said

I'll send them to places they've never been sent before. I'll send them to the bleakest corners and to the brightest corners of their mind

Transcend, Dear, but with mercy was all that she said

That’s half of what he’ll do

This is what they’ll do

They’ll time and time again crawl back in to the dark corners of their mind, dimly lit ones in some, as creatures lie there wide awake, as centuries like tides wash away everything but memories and memories of memories more false than true, and make things up, blow things up




Sunday, July 10, 2011

Into the Badland

I put the Badland behind me and walked straight into the woods. I’d lost track of space and time ever since I settled deep down the thick wilderness. I fetched leaves and branches and set up bonfires. When a scorpion stung me I squeezed herbs over my wound and tied it with shrubs. I raised tents and fences for the nights. I bit through nuts and ate berries. I waded through the wetlands and swam in the streams.

I trained the creatures to my whistles and they responded to me. Then when I slept this world slept with me. I learned about new herbs and mongoose when a snake bit me. They’re wild and to be so is their nature. I did not fear them, not so much. I feared very much things that are seemingly innocent but in actuality sinister. They say there lies the amusement and I’m ever so wary of whatever it is that they say. One of those days, I bumped into an innocent.

‘Sir, I didn’t thieve no nothing. I ain’t no cattle thieving feller, I swear and I swear. I mean no harm and am clean as a whistle.’ I was being candid and mellow to the man who ran into me.

‘Son, you’ve got to get yourself to some thieving. Or else the business comes to a halt. Capisce!’ He was dead-on when it came to putting his thoughts across. ‘Son, you don’t never wanna cross with evils that be. You don’t wanna get executed by Capitianity.’

‘Sir, what’s that shianity you’re talking about.’ I was flat-out probing him.

He was gentlemanly and spoke his heart. ‘Son, it’s been our religion now for ages. Our patron sinner lived for you just so you may die. He pulled this trick called dearth and in the end had it all leveraged.’

He had a uniform and a hat on. His goggles glinted under a gliding by sky. In his right hand on a long leash dying to be let loose was a bloodhound. ‘Son, it is a bastard and hasn’t never let go no limb it bit until flesh and bone turned juice in its ever-drooling mouth.’

‘Sir, you don’t know nothing as to what you cannot do that I can do.’ I took a step back. The hound growled. I blew the whistle, nerves as an infant on wet diapers, and the constant chirping that hovered over this world came to an instant halt. The hound once again growled and this time around the leash about the man’s hand got taut. A magpie fell down from the sky. The woods fell asleep! I blew the ‘Fall Asleep’ – wrong whistle. Not the CFA – ‘Come For Aide’.

‘Son, you’ve got to get laid and all else will be swell.’ He sounded a mechanical whistle and from the hide emerged a force made genderly up equal of hundred. I made my mind up against dying so young and leaving my handsome mortal remains behind.

He put a needle through my head and injected that part of brain they call Pavlov’s Clutch. It left me comfortably numb and I felt beyond belief conditioned. ‘Son, you don’t need no more shrinking. Freud for long has been a distant memory, so are Jung and the rest of them docs.’

I whistled again and the woods once again chirped. The fallen birds revived, took to their course, away they flew. My pet mongoose and monkey, I, the dog and its man walked. Fair enough, I’ve always wondered betwixt man and dog what had who. The rest marched by us. That girl with love or lust or whatever else it was in her eyes winked at me. My wild imagination has a body and a face and so its mouth salivated like it would beat any day the dog’s drool. When the boneless thing in my mid portion arouse to degrees 100, oh boy, only then did I realize I was clad in my birthday suit. I was at once band-aided starting from my C-spine all the way down to lateral malleolus. ‘Son, why dontcha lose that extension of you just for now.’ I was mummified while I still lived. I walked nice and smooth back and once again into the Badland. I was made again part of the Global Knitwork.

We now live in a rhizomatic apartment. I’ve been wedded to Winky for a year and she leads a unit of Force of Nurture. I work at FactStorie in the robotic department. She thinks I’m alright. That’s okay for her to think that, only she keeps saying you’re alright every single day come breakfast, lunch, or dinner. These days, oh yeah, she’s triply shiny pregnant with our triplets. I’m reviving my dead-motion capture feature Why Robots Dream of Ballistic Cattle because my security buddy thinks the rough-cuts look quite impressive. There may also be an integration of destructive animation. It’s been stuck in development heaven since my early twenties and that’s one reason why this project to me is so dear.

Our mongoose named Sneak guards our door. Hunk, our monkey, scribbled and got a fable right after a thousand attempts. Every time it got it wrong, it put its head up and flashed its teeth. When it got it right, it hung its face and looked awful sad. As if on a whim I looked up human. If you've wikied human, it's because you've evolved or it may also be that you’ve devolved. You couldn't be too sure you were just monkeying around! Then I became man, insane and everyone said I was the sanest thing that ever did walk this earth. Hunk closed the fable with those very words.

First draft was partly inspired by Deadwood, Badlands and Into the Wild

Final draft partly inspired by (!) perhaps PKD (!) perhaps Murakami (!) perhaps life itself


Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Her Perfect Love

She drew the curtain open, stepped inside the room, and ‘Wow!’ she said. It took her some time before she could spot this particular ‘sis’thel. She’d parked her car at the back, walked to the front, and now stood with her man of choice inside a pleasantly incensed room. She picked her handbag up from where she hung it, took the lipstick from inside it, and pushed its bottom. The stick popped up like a teen phallus, its erection a gleaming magenta, and she ran it over her lips. ‘This,’ she said ‘is pure sweetness’.

She disrobed herself – her bottom, top and then undergarments. ‘How exactly do you want to swive me’ she asked. He, the hooker, was lying on the bed on his side, his head resting over that bulkiest, newly covered pillow. He was looking at the perfect navel that he ever did see. Her bosom, the pair of them, stirred this lustful passion inside him. ‘Around here, lady,’ he said ‘it’s you who does the swiving.’

‘Just one thing’ she told him. ‘Don’t touch my face. Kissing my lips is alright. Especially don’t lick my face.’ ‘Are you—’ he stopped talking. The butterflies in his stomach screamed out loud and as his hands touched her hips, they stopped beating their wings inside her. His tongue twirled on and around her puffed mammilla… In her hand pulsed like a baby dove his phallus… She was his last customer.


‘What’s your name and how old are you’ he asked her passing the beer on to her. ‘My name, lemme see…would be…hmm, Woman’ she said pulling its cap off the ring. ‘As for my age, I’ve lost count; I’m plus or minus…perhaps fifty thousand.’ ‘Oh!’ he exclaimed. ‘Wow! You don’t look it – not in a million years, hah, would one say that.’ ‘That sounds right out of a film I saw sometime ago’ she said sipping the drink.

‘How is it that you come to be a male pro’ she asked him lighting his joint. ‘I came of my own volition’ he told her puffing a lungful. ‘I wanted to, well, give pleasure, was all. Were it not for the legalization, I wouldn’t have had the nerve to become what I’m now’ he said. ‘I know I’m not the most called for guy around here, I know I’m not the handsomest of them all, I should know why a lady like you on your very first visit called for a guy like me’ he further said passing the joint on to her.

‘Fancy that, you should ask’ she reacted, puffing then drinking. ‘You have the qualities that I seek but hardly find. Just so you know, I can judge your expressions; I can judge your gestures. You’re a man who wouldn’t push a woman, you’re a man who wouldn’t judge a woman, you’re a man who would leave a woman alone. To put it plainly, if I hadn’t gone through what I’d gone through, you’re the kind of man I’d want to be married to forever and a night. With my judgmental flaws and all, that is.’


Have you ever visited a ‘bro’thel expecting to find dyke love? ‘I’m not that kind you fancy me also to be, no not there. To put it truthfully, I get turned on by them and to put it bluntly I never wanted to lick them.’ They spoke.

You want to do it again? Since you’ve been my best client, lemme tell you, we can make do with the ten grand you already paid. Toss a five this way, or don’t, if it turned out like you wanted. ‘Not for another week, darling. When you come once, I come thrice, if that doesn’t speak volumes I don’t know what does.’ They further spoke.

‘You sound like you’ve found your true calling. Does that mean you’ve done well and you’re satisfied?’ Why do you ask so many questions? Are you that detective who’s hunting for that pro slayer? ‘What if you’re the detective, I the slayer?’ That makes you the consumer, I the goods, aye…more like. Well, truth be told, I have fun and…I also have this emptiness in me that wants me to let go, I’m too much a coward to throw myself down from the top of this sisthel. I wish I were just…just that detective. She adjudged him to have smiled through his teeth. He looked impeccable – almost holy.

‘I don’t want control over you’ she confessed standing up, and reached for her bag. He reached so fast under the pillow and came out empty-handed just the same. ‘All I want is unmitigated, perfect control over you.’ His face was a picture of dread. ‘When that mouth of yours went down on this nectar of mine,’ she said, ‘this hand of mine went down that pillow of whose is it…and buried that pistol of yours under this bed of theirs. Aren’t you anyway the kind that keeps the first two chambers empty?’ She pressed the lipstick against his temple and with a click, then clack it transformed itself into a pocket semi-automatic. ‘What, love, would be your last words’ she asked him. He crossed his arms over his chest, so that it appeared his body shook one-third less than it really shook. ‘It was my pimp…pimp walk that gave…gave me away, aye!’ he told her. ‘I was lu.s.t but now…am fond, thanks…to you.’

‘You—Man, my perfect lover—have been the most forthcoming of them all’ she appreciated. The sound of gunshot woke the catnapping receptionist downstairs. She lifted the window shutter, jumped the floor, and landed like a kitten. She brought the engine to life, turned the headlights down, and rode into a moonless night. A poster on the lamppost read: Woman at large, Man hunts. A graffiti on the wall said: Man at large, Woman hunts.


He, in turn, was her last victim. She stood in front of her life-size mirror and ripped the skin off her face. Her head was bald and face reminiscent of a victim of acid attack. She knew in her heart she had done the job she undertook undistracted and well – one decade, two dozen deceptive weapons, two dozen skins, a dozen kills, a dozen near misses, three righteous kills, hitherto untouched. There’s nothing more to do. Like a god that slaughtered through its creation to hoist this flag called Kingdom of Selective Destruction, she looked satiated. She was a picture of pride.

The job was done with and with that she was done. She pulled her illusory lipstick apart and flushed it down the toilet. The urge to surrender and be judged did not come to her for she had known this fact a long time ago that there’s none to judge her. Woman was right in that a party that’s guiltier cannot judge a party that’s guilty – not Man and especially when the Trinity—Misogyny, Authority, Narcissism—doesn’t exist, no not anymore.

She enrobed herself, made her make-do bed, picked up the thinnest pillow, tossed it across the floor, and unmasked, unjudged and guiltless she slept into the rest of night on that naked floor called stage. Up the wind blew, chimes chimed, down the curtain fell.



Saturday, July 2, 2011

Pinned Tongue: An Encounter

The Steam-Coach smacked of grape vapor. By the window, her best spot for sport, Harli, attired for a fine young lady, was led to sit. From within, a soul in a body was caused to propel. As the Fly gathered height and speed, a chromatic world beneath gave itself up and a dash of indigo embraced its guest. The vapor in the atmosphere was an irritant guest to Harli's lungs, and as her hungry eyes fed on the spectacle that the sun-cracked sky was howf she coughed, and again: Lowf.

Lovf?, the man adjacent said. Lovf does noth existh. The very thing thath makes you couf will make you puke and choke.

Pardon my manners, sir, Harli said. Coufing, I do remember, but asking for your aid I do…owf…not.

Yeth, dandy dame, said the man, who asks for help meaning tho these days! The creases on his cheek segued, as he spoke, from being to nothingness indicating there is more life to endure for them to segue from nothingness to being.

For the man you are, Harli said, un-pressed and half-emancipated, I impress I would plead exile. I am amazed sky-high the wombless vessel that your lot are, are given to advice and contemplation these days.

The man, with a gesture, pursed his lips and took to reading The Domale Eunuch picking it by its dog-ear, occasionally glimpsing toward his unfriendly companion. A steward handsome (to Harli) and automaton (to the man) served Sunshine.

I regret my manners, Harli apologized pulling her mask on. The journey I embark upon is life's and it gets to my nerves what if I were to fall apart half way through it. Would you opine on love?

As the Fly sailed through the tides of wind it was hard to say what, between the vessel and the waves, slapped what. Lovf, began the man with a smile, like cougf is of body's, is a condition of soul's lungs. You never know whath nourishes ith or whath poisons ith unhtil ith's thoo lathe. Ith is a double-edged virtue. Gone are the days of Sr Paula's precepts uthered in apocalypthic frenzy.

But, she said, they can be kept if you believed in being in a moment. Only there are other moments to crash and burn it to nothing…

Yet…! Anyway, he took off from the tip of his tongue a pin and said, love can be utterly and eternally deadly. Howsoever hard I try, dame, I can't seem to fork my tongue.

Harli's fingertip, by way of reflex, felt her tongue-tip. She wondered why, kept to herself, and kept it to herself. The Fly lost its gained height as it gave itself in ever so slowly to gravity.

Floaters to Destini may unbuckle, announced a voice.

You know what, Harli said adjusting her mask, I am going to forget you as early as my sandal touches the sand.

No, said the man who by now pinned through sixteen pages, you will not. I will tell you why, and he handed her an Hourglass. The object contained sand as tiny as dust and it had an orifice and the orifice had a cap. This is called Alefor, he said, and it never runs out of what's inside.

What's inside, asked Harli.

Nothing but dust of time, said the man. It's a medicine to be taken like medicine, and not, ever, drug. It may be of use, again it may not be.

She put it in her pouch and said, aren't you the most disliked and the most liked person.

What, said the man.

I can tell it just by looking into your eyes, said Harli as she opened the door. Before stepping out, she turned this side and left a peck on the man's cheek and said: Farewell.

The northwestern wind blew even and caressed her face and she found it hard to resist the ministrations of the sunset. Let's get written, said a voice. This came from a boy, and the direction southeast, who stepped out of the same Coach. You mean return, said Harli. I am afraid I‘m unsure. From Destini to where she will head must be taken on foot. And it's a long and winding road -- the road to Harlum.

Soon it is found out there is no road – not a visible one by any measure. They say that the paths are beaten and laid, she thought: if there they are, they are hidden, only you land there and find out you beat your own.  Let’s take this route, he said. Let’s take that route, she said. They sliced an apricot in two--she very casually pocketed its seed--and flipped it. It fell the center side up and they took the middle route.

Half of a Quarter Tale, with its long withheld coda




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