Sprouts

My sunflower seeds started talking to me last month. I couldn’t believe it; I’d been lonely for such a long time. It felt good to have friends. I bet it was my mom who asked them to keep me company. I miss her terribly.

The clearest memory I have of Mom was when she told me that all the beauty in the world grows from something small. I was helping her in the garden, and we’d just planted sunflowers. My favorite. A couple days later, she showed me the tiny, burgeoning sprouts that would eventually become the towering, yellow flowers I loved so much. She repeated what she told me about beauty. I remember being amazed. I’d wake up every morning and head outside and check their progress. Each time, they were a little bit bigger. Continue reading “Sprouts”

Under My Teeth

Something’s living under my teeth. Whenever I chew, it screams. I had to stop eating. Now I blend everything up and drink it so I don’t have to hear the sound anymore. Brushing my teeth is out. More screaming; bloodcurdling shrieks stopping only when I don’t apply pressure. Even when I sleep, if my mouth closes and my teeth click together, my ears are pierced with the sounds of agony. Continue reading “Under My Teeth”

Tiptoeing the Line of Consent

“No,” I insisted. “Absolutely and unequivocally. No.”

I studied his face. It looked like he was prepared to accept what I was saying, but somewhere in his eyes I saw what I’d been hoping for. Something I barely wanted to admit, but nonetheless what I wanted most of all: he understood that behind my protestations was a plea to be convinced.

He opened his mouth and I studied his tongue. It was pink and firm and marked with tastebuds. The sheen of saliva on the muscle was both inviting and repelling; I loved how it felt inside me. I enjoyed the sensations it produced. But it left things behind. When he pulled away, I would feel the air on the wetness it deposited. It was cold. Discomforting.

I met his mouth with mine and let his tongue slip between my lips. It brushed against my own and I tasted his saliva. His mouth was still salty and slightly bitter from our earlier acts together. Not altogether unpleasant, but still noteworthy. I assumed mine tasted similar. Continue reading “Tiptoeing the Line of Consent”

My street was blocked off last weekend and guys in hazmat suits were doing something at my neighbor’s house.

We weren’t allowed to leave our home; the suited men were everywhere and kept insisting it was for our own safety. They wouldn’t give us a hint about what was going on.

Being right across the street, I stayed glued to my front window. It was fascinating at first. Then interesting. Then tedious. Still, I felt like I had to keep watching. There was something going on in there and I needed to know what. Nothing on television gave any indication something was wrong. Our cell phones had no service. It was as if the signals were being blocked.

Toward the end of the first day, I’d started to feel a surprising amount of apprehension. My wife, too. It felt as if we were about to receive terrible news, despite not having any reason to. Continue reading “My street was blocked off last weekend and guys in hazmat suits were doing something at my neighbor’s house.”

I just learned the horrible, impossible truth about a drug called “adrenochrome.”

Please help.

Someone close to me may be connected to the disappearance and murder of countless children; most of them refugees or otherwise disadvantaged – all untraceable. All forgettable. And now, all dead.

He told me about a drug called adrenochrome that could produce a high beyond any other. And unlike those other drugs, there are no ill effects. Quite the contrary; there are substantial benefits from consuming it: greater health, increased vivacity, and a host of other, smaller effects. Combine those with an intense sense of euphoria and you have a substantial demand.

The issue is this: it is a derivative of the chemicals produced by the human body when it is under intense, immeasurable fear.

My former friend, who confessed his involvement during a fleeting crisis of conscience, insisted this was true and cited a number of dubious-looking studies and fake news sites. But then there were the photos. Continue reading “I just learned the horrible, impossible truth about a drug called “adrenochrome.””

The Little Ghost

When the little ghost first starting coming to me, he whispered nice things that made me feel good.

“You have pretty hands.”

“I love how you do your nails.”

“How did you get your skin to be so smooth?”

He stayed with me all day and all night. As the days went by, though, I must have done something to make the ghost angry. Instead of mawkish pleasantries, the messages grew negative.

“I’ve seen other girls with prettier hands.”

“What happened to your nails?”

“I’m sorry your skin looks so dry nowadays.”

I started to get upset. I’d grown fond of the little ghost. Since he’d always been so positive, it was comforting. But once he started to get mean, I wondered what I’d done wrong. I didn’t want my ghost to feel like I’d disappointed him. Continue reading “The Little Ghost”

My Constellation

December 10, 2015.
My last day on Earth.

From the moment I was capable of proper self-reflection, I knew there was too much of me. I filled more space than any person should. I would study the area around myself and imagine lines drawn between my body and the objects nearby. The lines were too short. Stout, vulgar lines barely spanning the interstices I used to prove I wasn’t sharing mass with the walls and furniture.

A plan bloomed within me and seeded the foundation of my identity. As I was shuffled from foster home to foster home, I began to restrict the amount of food I consumed. The general lack of care for my wellbeing, which I’m certain would have devastated the psyche of other adolescents, was my greatest advantage. With each refused meal, the lines separating me from the mass of the world grew longer. I bathed in the reinforcing glow of success. Continue reading “My Constellation”

Guuuuuuuuuuuuuys I’m saaaaaaaaaaaaad :(

So, um, remember when I told you about the baby I’m gonna have? Me too, lol. It’s gonna be so great. Oh but yeah that’s not why I’m sad.

You know how my parents aren’t really ever around and stuff? Yeah, it turns out they like…stopped living? Like a while ago? And I’ve been living with foster parents for like a year?

Haha no jk they’re fine but they’re on vacation lol. It’s cool they know how mature I am and let me be alone and watch my stupid brother even though my dumb sister got all dead and stuff. But yeah here’s why I’m sad. And no, it’s not poor gay Kevin (I call him Gaykev now.)

I promised my parents I’d go to church on Wednesday night and I did thank you very much. I walked all the way over there and went down all those flights of stairs and sat at mass for five hours until the Gift stopped bleeding. And breathing lol. Continue reading “Guuuuuuuuuuuuuys I’m saaaaaaaaaaaaad :(“

Escaphism

“Under every scrap of confining skin is the potential for escape. When life grows from your husk, you, in turn, may be reborn.” -William James Lemaire: Seeding the Verdant World

It had been so, so long since my soulmate had felt anything resembling escape.

We sat and talked about the process that would surely end his life. Our Benefactor, William, had proposed this journey to us at our final meeting. William, who’d given so much of his time and energy to the wretched around him, was generous in imparting his wisdom. He believed my soulmate could be saved – but only if he gave his life to the Verdant World. I remember looking at the swaying trees and long grass around us – trees and grass seeded by the numberless Saved. It was a defining moment.

“Grow what we love in whom you love.” -William James Lemaire: Seeding the Verdant World

I kissed the lips of my soulmate before removing them. He didn’t move. Tears sprouted from the corners of his closed eyes. The sweet taste of his kiss lingered as I poured honey in and around his new mouth. The honey was from bees which had pollinated the flowers grown from other Saved. The cycle was continuing with us. We whirl the wheel. Continue reading “Escaphism”

To Travel

Bodies in bodies.

Bodies of bodies.

True knowledge requires self destruction. I’d always preached it, but I’d never practiced it. Never, until this morning, when the red wire slipped into the black module and I moved while going nowhere. My consciousness – my essence – erupted from my body and left me standing in that busy room of machines and batteries and magic.

(Magic is nothing without machines and batteries.)

I left my body without looking back. The air was smoky and shimmering. The walls were porous. No sound met my earless nothingness. There was only sight. My third eye; my soul; my angel: my guide. My everything.

I traversed the room and slipped through the wall. Continue reading “To Travel”