2018: A Space Oddity, III

III. Player One Isn’t Quite Ready

There was a resounding thump as the door closed behind me and a fairywind kind of a whirling sound as it disappeared behind me.

I was standing in a room that seemed familiar to me in many ways but not in any kind of way that would have been useful. As in, a way that would tell me where I was. I wasn’t in my bathroom anymore and certainly wasn’t in the dimension of nothingness that I had just walked out of.

I was in a barren space with eggshell color walls and a carpet to match. There was no furniture, no signs, no posters on the walls, no signs of life. Only a large room with orange-tinted fluorescent lighting shining high above from a ceiling I couldn’t make out. There was a wavering hum permeating throughout the space at an odd frequency, no doubt emanating from the lights above.

“Where am I?” I asked aloud. No response. “Umm…hello?”

Where was that specter that I had encountered earlier in the mirror? It been awfully chatty since it had first shown up. Now, the lack of response was deafening, making the humming frequency seem even louder than it had before.

My history has shown that staying in one place for too long can be detrimental but there was no indication that anything had heard me. I walked around for a while, trying to gauge the volume of the space I was in.

And by that I mean, my face smashing into a solid surface.
With nothing around me, I had no sense of object permanence.
I went from walking along to a “Falcon Punch!” strike-like blunt force to the nose sent me falling to my ass from an invisible force, as if i were a character from a rudimentary 3D platform game from the early 1990s running into the borders of the land that the game developers created.

Typical, isn’t it? To be forced to participate in something that I didn’t agree to by a being I don’t really know because of the threat of what could happen if I didn’t listen.

It’s hard to say how long I was walking around trying to find something, anything. Could have been hours, days, months, even years. Maybe only a few minutes. The passage of time feels a lot different when there’s no point of reference.

All I can remember is my feet hurting. And wet, from either sweat or blood. My eyelids were heavy and my breath inconsistent.

The eggshell walls around me began to cracm, flaking away, falling below my feet into the nothingness. All I could do was watch.

And I watched as the nothingness transformed into something. Something, an area that I could recognize.

An area.
A place in time that I had believed I had completely forgotten.
And wish I had.


2018: A Space Oddity, II

II. Well?

I was completely stunned.

“Who am I?” I thought. “More like, what the hell are you?”

I didn’t speak those words aloud but the inky figure responded to me anyway. It’s voice so hideous & gangrenous, it’d knock a horsefly out of the air.

“Come on now. Don’t act like you don’t recognize me,” It said. “I am the culmination of the thoughts that swim around in your head at the dead of night. The thoughts you try to pretend didn’t occur but totally did. Your repressed urges. Your deep down ugly that you refuse to claim.”

I turned off the faucet that was still running and put the toothbrush down. I didn’t have time for this shit. Not that I had any pressing obligations like work, school, or anything of that sort that our society views as productive.
But like…what the hell, right?

Don’t speak, just listen,” It croaked. ” You have a choice to make. Follow me right now or stay here and die.

“What?” I managed to squeak out.

The reflection of the bathroom in the mirror faded away. A kaleidoscope of colors I had never seen before replaced the familiar taupe walls and off-white cabinets. Wormhole is the only word that comes close to what I was seeing.

I looked away from the mirror and took in my surroundings. It was the same old bathroom.

Looking away isn’t going to make me go away,” It said. “And I said don’t speak. There’s no need.”

I looked back to what was once a mirror. The creature had it’s back to me, and was walking away, towards the flashing vibrant vortex. Without looking back, It said

Are you coming or not?

I raised a hand and placed it towards the mirror and was instantly sucked inside. I turned around and I could see the bathroom I was once standing in, as if I were watching the most boring show to ever air on a home improvement network channel.

Hurry up!” the creature shouted.

I turned back around to face It. Amongst the all of the colors, it’s inky outline stood next to what appeared to be a door.

2018: A Space Oddity, I

I. Hello

It had been quite a minute since I had hatched from my incubation period & there’d only been a few moments here and there for me to stretch my wings. Stormy weather and the danger of the whatcouldbe’s, ya know?

So imagine my surprise, when on a morning just like any other. I shook myself out of unconsciousness, threw on some rags, rubbed some Chemical X & other herbs on my body to get myself clean. A typical morning…

It was the moment the toothbrush touched my crown.

A tremor. A thunderous fervor of billions & billions of cells freaking out and reconfiguring.

Flecks of the steely expression of my reflection started morphing, bit by bit, as if the reflection itself was in the hands of a child whom had just discovered the blur tool on Photoshop.

I was completely stunned. Toothbrush still in hand, mid motion, right between the two buck teeth. My reflection didn’t look like me anymore.

What was once the shapely image of something adorable, stood a willowy silhouette of what could have been. A deformed freakazoid of a monstrosity. An inky black figment, sloshing about in a twisted vortex, occupying the space where the reflection of my actual self should have been.

I couldn’t hear anything. It was as if my ears ceased to be functioning organs and became strictly ornamental. There was a horrible void where the sound of running water should have been.

And then a horrible noise. The sound of rusted metal grating against a serrated blade.

Covering my ears with my hands wasn’t enough. I could still hear the sound. And if I focused enough…I could almost make out…

“Who Are You?”

The Possession of Camille Parker

She awoke this morning and looked into the mirror to see heavy eyeshadow fading into many shades of flat blues, caked and smeared as if she had been wearing it for days & reapplying it without cleaning it off first… she does not wear make up.

Her morning tastes like sewer water though she made it the same way she does every morning. Why?

“Something inside of me,” she thinks, “is tweaking with my brain”  why why why

In rapid succession, her thoughts are racing, a never ending left turn.

“Something is the matter…” She thinks, still drinking her sewage coffee for the caffeine. “I don’t know but I…..I think I’m posessed.”

As soon as she said the words aloud, she knew they were true.
but why? and by whom?

This may warrant taking off a sick day from work but it’s a little hard to explain, no?

“A seemingly demonic force has taken up shop in my head space and I’m questioning not only my existence, but existence overall. Can I come in tomorrow?”

Can’t imagine that’d work out very well. She picks up the coffee pot to pour it out in the sink but instead of flowing out straight down, it pours upwards, leaving a leaking stain on the ceiling.

She blinks and does nothing for a moment. “Okay. Something is either completely fucked with my head or I’m possessed. Either way, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Grunt Work

This is what it’s like in the specter factory

It’s been said that our consciousness and knack for development is what sets modern humanity from the rest of our savage earthling brethren. While apes and quadrupeds scratch their asses and laze about all day, we gather our tools and craft masterpieces.
Nice thought in theory, but by that logic any unemployed, disabled, and lazy bastard could be grouped with the savage beasts.
Where does that leave me?

I guess I’m just a sucker in the specter factory

So crisp, so vivid does everything appear, I could reach out and grab a treasure. Yet my fingers slip through any object I desire. My presence does not occupy much mass. I Fear I may need an upgrade as soon as possible but I have no physical port to jack in and my trust in The Machine has waned dramatically over time.
If I were to ignore these facts, this is the best day of my life.

I guess I’m just a sucker in the specter factor

None of us care about longterm satisfaction as long as there are immediate gratification options. A brief surge of adrenaline, getting you higher and higher… then Boom. It’s gone. The way up The Ladder is paved with crackpot scheiße and requires a certain level of patience. It’s possible. But instead we use our tools for different matters. A voice subtly commands us each day: Grab your screwdriver, lackey! There are bolts to be screwed.
Inaudible but it’s there, every day.

I guess we’re all just suckers in the specter factor
Oh? Oh.

2016: A Space Oddity [part 2]

Whizzing sounds of distant traffic, electrical currents guided through mechanical parts well oiled with crimson,
words from The Void screaming throughout; from buoyant lead, iron fists, and crinkled greenery. Blocking paths long since forgotten and ushering forth towards roads with predictable outcomes.

Say “No Thank You”
Breathe in.
Allow the unknown to fill every orifice of your lungs.
Closed eyes see no darkness.

There is a wormhole filled with every color on the known spectrum and fifty-thousand shades that the oxford dictionary has no definition of and human eyes have trouble accepting.
Nebulae and planetary bodies with orbiting suspensions of ice racing by in a blur.
Heat waves of passing stars tickle the bloodstream and flutter through veins turning the crimson into water and then into wine.
Punch-drunk fairies dizzily prancing through cerebral ruins, upchucking on the dulled grey matter,
pompous verbal units as stark and stale as century old fossilized excrement; land solid and explode in cataclysmic screams of primal rage seconds after impact.

All feelings of anguish and pain gone away.

In this Form, at this given moment, time increases increments that should be subject to extreme scrutiny for in this moment,
no seconds pass and no clocks tick and no feet march en tandem with the beat of any kind of drum sheathed with any kind of skin.

The maximum of charge allowed in in these parts as the number does not increase as the wormhole continues
though it is uncertain if it is suspended in a time lapse, or if that is indeed what is happening at all.
Any increasing number would be the only proof that time is continuing to move along as the astral stuff is, zooming by in the peripheral,
but the astral stuff moves, the percentage does not.
The speed of travel begins to slow and every cell in my body freezes like the milliseconds before a suspension-drop roller coaster’s declension
and I feel the same weightlessness as everything stops on a dime.

“The Hooch” -An Exercpt

“I need a drink”, he thought as he backed out of his driveway.

Tired of facing the harsh realities of what is stitching his life together, Sebastian often found himself turning to the healing powers of The Hooch to soothe, a manifested bridge over the troubled waters that surrounded him.

The Hooch has never lied nor expected anything from him. The Hooch has never taken anything from him. The Hooch just is what it is.

His love for The Hooch started as a simple puppy love. A warm bubble bath that caressed his sore muscles back to a manageable state of indifference. It was a kiss on the forehead after a bedtime story from the parental figure he had always imagined. The honeymoon phase of a burgeoning relationship.

Sebastian had never had a relationship go steady for more than a few months at a time. Once the sugar started to spoil and maggots formed, he’d always thrown it out, expecting to be able to find a replacement sweetener with ease.

But sugar is hard to find these days and aspartame doesn’t do the trick. There’s an aftertaste that follows the sweetness that he never cared for.

The Hooch is always there.

After time, he started finding larvae within The Hooch but couldn’t bring himself to throw it out. The Hooch has seen the best and worst of him and has never turned its back. Still, he found it difficult to ignore the bugs that were beginning to sprout.

The bubble baths became pools of blood. The kisses on the forehead felt like they came from Vito Genovese instead of a loving parent. The familiar love morphed into an authority figure from a super power he no longer recognized.

But The Hooch had never lied to him before and Sebastian had no real reason to believe it would start now.

The Hooch just is what it is.

“Fuck it,” Sebastian thought as he drove down the usual stretch of road to a destination he’d gone to many a time before.

Let The Hooch be the lighter fluid to ignite all the bridges left in ruin from years of neglect. Let The Hooch lift him upwards towards a new plain of transcendence that he never thought imaginable in his default state. Let The Hooch warm the cold parts in his body and reinvigorate the parts of him he had long forgotten existed.

The Hooch just is what it is.

He approached the cash register and realized he was 75 cents short.

So he bought a bottle of soda instead.