Flesh Bound
I age, it is an eternal deep age, down deep within me, I know I do not belong here. They smile at me and feed me and move my limbs, one at a time. Sometimes they stick me with with needles so thin I mistook them for hairs initially. What ever it delivers burns with shock and cramps the soft muscles.
They show me images and play me sounds, I watch and learn and now have words where the blankness was. I think they want something from me but I can not work out what it is. I scream in the night with the cramps, iron locked pulses that threaten to shred me from within.
A concept has been growing, from the images, so many, shining people, glowing like those who come to me with bright lights haloed around their heads. Those who come with the needles and the pain. They smile and sing songs that echo around this place. Singing and praising and laying hands on me but I don’t know what they want.
I think they are the creatures they have shown me, eternal soft creatures made of glass and crystal and energy. I wish they would go. I am not like them for all they wrap me in a white shroud. I can not see their wings but the way there fabric drips from the stiff form of their hats I think the artists miss drew them and the wings where always material flowing in the breeze.
Eons I have lain here watching them coming and going, the void was peace – I wonder if I can slip back to that time? Know nothing, no pain.
A man comes in a white coat and stands there, his beard is long and curled and grey like those in the paintings but he is not parting clouds. Instead he always has a clip board and frowns and tuts. I think he is the one who orders the white glowing beings around. What is that they want? Why do they kneel and clasp their hands? I don’t really care I just want peace.
This world spins around me and the music is on again, I do not understand all the words, I think it is several different ways of speaking.
I don’t know the words to get them to leave me be. I think I know who I am in this place, a person who has had many faces, they show them too me, the sorrow in the eyes, ribs showing and hanging from some structure and surrounded as I am by them… the shining ones and sometimes the grey bearded man is there. I do not understand. But now they are here with the larger needle.
It snicks and snacks and slides in painfully. They’ve twisted a glove around my arm and now the red stuff begins to flow. Down and down in to the cups, the large golden cups, the grey man does a finger dance over them and then all the shining ones drink and the other cups are taken away. They look like the ones in the pictures. The world fades and I awake with wholes in my flesh.
They say I am flesh bound, I don’t know what that is but I wish to go now, eternities I have lain here and I seek oblivion.
Posted: Thursday, February 13th, 2014 @ 9:52 am
Categories: Flash Fiction.
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