Thursday, May 19, 2005
The abyss stares back
post 68
*****s.....S.....hh........... hh ........ ssi....... lll..... h.....L...... nn...... en......****
*****b.....B.....ll........... ll ........ lla....... lll..... b.....L...... la...... LL......****
......... **beep beep beep**.........
......... **beep beep beep**.........
A........ signal........
striking me from my sleep. I bolt upright from a restless slumber. My head still whirls from the giddy, startled state. I wipe the crusted sleep from my eyes and try to focus on a sliver of morning rays seeping through the curtains of my room. The beep, still ongoing, monotonous, unchanging. I switch off the alarm clock.
~7:38~
A yawn erupts from my the back of my throat. Morning breath exudes last night's onion and toothpaste. I run my fingers through my hair - trying to reason with it's lack of conformity with the rest of the strands over my face. It flips back over my crown in a tussled defiance.
I push the bed sheets away with my foot and swing out my legs to the floor. My feet land on the thin carpet. Small bobbles of carpet fibres cling to the rough patches and callouses on my feet. My foot starts to itch, so I ease the discomfort by rubbing my sole on the carpet. It lets up with the warming, rough texture of the piles. Sitting, I start to scratch in a random spot. Now the itch has left my foot and has travelled over to my belly, to my sides and to my back. I allow myself a small stretch to liven the rigid muscles - it's like a roll call to check my parts are still there and ready, for yet, another day. A twinge strikes my side so I recoil my position to one that is less less postured but still comfortable. The weight of my head starts to become heavy, like lead, on my neck. Perhaps it's the thoughts, or the dreams crammed in there.
~7.40~
The red of the LED digits remind me of my dream. Fleeting patches of the interior of a house with lots of boxes, perhaps junk springs to my vision. Not sure. Can't remember now it's morning. And my brain kicks into awake mode and the pain in my head starts. Must get up, get through the day.
With that resolve I power into the bathroom, glimpse at my hair that defies gravity and resign my life long wish that it would be permanently in the one, perfect style at any given time of day. I know that won't happen and shelve that thought in the back of my mind. I go to brush my teeth, pick up the toothbrush from the basin to get the onion flavour out. The brushing creates a strange sound in my mouth - scratching sounds, scraping noises. Without thinking I turn to pee in the adjacent toilet. Morning pee smell and toothpaste create the nauseating but familiar smell. My brain registers that as a cue to finish up immediately.
**flush....sh....shhh.......sss......sss...........s....s.....hss.....**
Morning light doesn't filter into the bathroom except from the window in the adjoinging room. It's kinda semi dark or semi light - whichever way I want to look at it. But I leave the lights off and shuffle out of the bathroom. I turn to open curtains. No difference in light but my head begins a slight ache from the dispersion of morning sunlight on the fog. Need better curtains.
There's fog and the door has the build up of condensation from a cold night. A distinguishable outline of a garbage bing and boxes are all I can make out at first. Sounds of a what sounds like a dog becomes baffled by the glass, my breath fogging it up and I can't hear anything after that - just my breathing. It's quiet. Except for my breathing. It's cold too.
I drag clothes onto my body - they're smelling clean. They're washed I think to myself. They're washed. I go back to the bathroom to soak my hair in the basin and then brush it back across my head in an unfashionable but reasonably ok style. It stays out of my eyes for a few seconds - then wet pieces fall back to my face as I rush out the door, car key in hand and a small bakpak over my shoulder.
The fog is wet - the air is moist - my clothes and the hairs on my neck begin to feel damp as the cold seeps in. My hair doesn't help the situation and brushes against my face in thick wet clumps. The street is covered in the fog, cars are blobs in the fog. The street is awfully quiet - no cars. Am I early? No, I was rushing too much to be early, I must be late. The car takes a while to warm up and makes sickly coughing noises from the exhaust. It's not a morning car. It steadies to a rythmic hum and rumble. I indicate and drive down the road. Heading to work and I feel late.
I put my lights on. The fog doesn't ease up - it looks a shade of yellow, dirty, unclean. Fog. It's just clouds come down to earth. I bet a car would think this air is thick and cold and damp - I would if I were a car. The windows gather small bobbles of condensation. It's from my warm breath - but I'm not going to stop breathing. I turn the ventillation up and cold air chills me. Not many people take this road, it's gravel and dirty and dusty. Can't see the dust for the fog.
The road ahead becomes less gravel and turns to gunmetal bitumen and some house shapes replace the shapes of trees.
Suddenly.
**smbachrh**
**screeeeeihhu*
I hit something. Fuck. I didn't even see it.
But I stopped.
At least I stopped, right?
Shit. I hope it wasn't an animal.
I don't need to get upset. Don't get upset. It's just something. Go out and look.
My heart beats faster and my head begins to throb with the ache from before. I stop the engine, open the door and the cool air fills the car and around my face. All I see is fog behind me as the exhaust fumes dissipate - eaten by the fog. Foggy road, foggy house outlines.
No lumps on the road.
Nothing.
Except for an unusual sound that comes from past the footpath. A sound, muffled, but regular, like breathing. Too heavy and noisy for a cat, perhaps even for a dog but I've never hit an animal to know. I shut the car door and walk over towards the sound.
Focussing becomes a chore but my eyes make out a large shape in the fog. It's in the front yard of a house. I can make out more of the house now and a letter box. Number 48.
The shape looks like it's trembling as I get nearer. But then the fog seems to be shrouding it, - it's all blurry - and it's not moving. No trembling. Just a large weird shape, a small bear? As if, moron - why would it be a bear? I stop a few feet short of it before looking at it closer. I don't want to. There's a funny smell coming from it. A gross smell. Like baked meat that's been left in on a BBQ and gone cold.
Burnt, meat.
I put my sleeve over my nose and curiosity gets the better of me.
WTF is it?
I can't see blood. But the smell..... there should be blood...... I take a step back before taking one forward until I can almost touch it.
It's like a large sack with awkard shapes protruding from one side of it. No legs, no head. This isn't an animal. It's not even furry, it's more...... skin...... flaky black and red...... skin..... ugh.... and that smell. Fuck. Someone must've left it out on the road. Left what? The whole street seems so empty and it's not garbage day. I can't hear anything now. And my head feels worse with the pungent smell.
The sack thing starts to shudder. Stops. Shakes. For a bit. And then, stops, again. Shivers. I step back as the form in front of me begins to shake unnaturally, and the awkward protrusions move like involuntary jerks, until the whole form is moving spasmodically.
And then, the shape erupts, and - I can't move - all I can think of is my head feeling like it's erratically thrashing and my headache is splitting it open and sound of waves of the sea crashing are pushed out of my head by a siren.
A loud siren.
Chilling my body to the core.
*****s.....S.....hh........... hh ........ ssi....... lll..... h.....L...... nn...... en......****
*****b.....B.....ll........... ll ........ lla....... lll..... b.....L...... la...... LL......****
......... **beep beep beep**.........
......... **beep beep beep**.........
A........ signal........
striking me from my sleep. I bolt upright from a restless slumber. My head still whirls from the giddy, startled state. I wipe the crusted sleep from my eyes and try to focus on a sliver of morning rays seeping through the curtains of my room. The beep, still ongoing, monotonous, unchanging. I switch off the alarm clock.
~7:38~
A yawn erupts from my the back of my throat. Morning breath exudes last night's onion and toothpaste. I run my fingers through my hair - trying to reason with it's lack of conformity with the rest of the strands over my face. It flips back over my crown in a tussled defiance.
I push the bed sheets away with my foot and swing out my legs to the floor. My feet land on the thin carpet. Small bobbles of carpet fibres cling to the rough patches and callouses on my feet. My foot starts to itch, so I ease the discomfort by rubbing my sole on the carpet. It lets up with the warming, rough texture of the piles. Sitting, I start to scratch in a random spot. Now the itch has left my foot and has travelled over to my belly, to my sides and to my back. I allow myself a small stretch to liven the rigid muscles - it's like a roll call to check my parts are still there and ready, for yet, another day. A twinge strikes my side so I recoil my position to one that is less less postured but still comfortable. The weight of my head starts to become heavy, like lead, on my neck. Perhaps it's the thoughts, or the dreams crammed in there.
~7.40~
The red of the LED digits remind me of my dream. Fleeting patches of the interior of a house with lots of boxes, perhaps junk springs to my vision. Not sure. Can't remember now it's morning. And my brain kicks into awake mode and the pain in my head starts. Must get up, get through the day.
With that resolve I power into the bathroom, glimpse at my hair that defies gravity and resign my life long wish that it would be permanently in the one, perfect style at any given time of day. I know that won't happen and shelve that thought in the back of my mind. I go to brush my teeth, pick up the toothbrush from the basin to get the onion flavour out. The brushing creates a strange sound in my mouth - scratching sounds, scraping noises. Without thinking I turn to pee in the adjacent toilet. Morning pee smell and toothpaste create the nauseating but familiar smell. My brain registers that as a cue to finish up immediately.
**flush....sh....shhh.......sss......sss...........s....s.....hss.....**
Morning light doesn't filter into the bathroom except from the window in the adjoinging room. It's kinda semi dark or semi light - whichever way I want to look at it. But I leave the lights off and shuffle out of the bathroom. I turn to open curtains. No difference in light but my head begins a slight ache from the dispersion of morning sunlight on the fog. Need better curtains.
There's fog and the door has the build up of condensation from a cold night. A distinguishable outline of a garbage bing and boxes are all I can make out at first. Sounds of a what sounds like a dog becomes baffled by the glass, my breath fogging it up and I can't hear anything after that - just my breathing. It's quiet. Except for my breathing. It's cold too.
I drag clothes onto my body - they're smelling clean. They're washed I think to myself. They're washed. I go back to the bathroom to soak my hair in the basin and then brush it back across my head in an unfashionable but reasonably ok style. It stays out of my eyes for a few seconds - then wet pieces fall back to my face as I rush out the door, car key in hand and a small bakpak over my shoulder.
The fog is wet - the air is moist - my clothes and the hairs on my neck begin to feel damp as the cold seeps in. My hair doesn't help the situation and brushes against my face in thick wet clumps. The street is covered in the fog, cars are blobs in the fog. The street is awfully quiet - no cars. Am I early? No, I was rushing too much to be early, I must be late. The car takes a while to warm up and makes sickly coughing noises from the exhaust. It's not a morning car. It steadies to a rythmic hum and rumble. I indicate and drive down the road. Heading to work and I feel late.
I put my lights on. The fog doesn't ease up - it looks a shade of yellow, dirty, unclean. Fog. It's just clouds come down to earth. I bet a car would think this air is thick and cold and damp - I would if I were a car. The windows gather small bobbles of condensation. It's from my warm breath - but I'm not going to stop breathing. I turn the ventillation up and cold air chills me. Not many people take this road, it's gravel and dirty and dusty. Can't see the dust for the fog.
The road ahead becomes less gravel and turns to gunmetal bitumen and some house shapes replace the shapes of trees.
Suddenly.
**smbachrh**
**screeeeeihhu*
I hit something. Fuck. I didn't even see it.
But I stopped.
At least I stopped, right?
Shit. I hope it wasn't an animal.
I don't need to get upset. Don't get upset. It's just something. Go out and look.
My heart beats faster and my head begins to throb with the ache from before. I stop the engine, open the door and the cool air fills the car and around my face. All I see is fog behind me as the exhaust fumes dissipate - eaten by the fog. Foggy road, foggy house outlines.
No lumps on the road.
Nothing.
Except for an unusual sound that comes from past the footpath. A sound, muffled, but regular, like breathing. Too heavy and noisy for a cat, perhaps even for a dog but I've never hit an animal to know. I shut the car door and walk over towards the sound.
Focussing becomes a chore but my eyes make out a large shape in the fog. It's in the front yard of a house. I can make out more of the house now and a letter box. Number 48.
The shape looks like it's trembling as I get nearer. But then the fog seems to be shrouding it, - it's all blurry - and it's not moving. No trembling. Just a large weird shape, a small bear? As if, moron - why would it be a bear? I stop a few feet short of it before looking at it closer. I don't want to. There's a funny smell coming from it. A gross smell. Like baked meat that's been left in on a BBQ and gone cold.
Burnt, meat.
I put my sleeve over my nose and curiosity gets the better of me.
WTF is it?
I can't see blood. But the smell..... there should be blood...... I take a step back before taking one forward until I can almost touch it.
It's like a large sack with awkard shapes protruding from one side of it. No legs, no head. This isn't an animal. It's not even furry, it's more...... skin...... flaky black and red...... skin..... ugh.... and that smell. Fuck. Someone must've left it out on the road. Left what? The whole street seems so empty and it's not garbage day. I can't hear anything now. And my head feels worse with the pungent smell.
The sack thing starts to shudder. Stops. Shakes. For a bit. And then, stops, again. Shivers. I step back as the form in front of me begins to shake unnaturally, and the awkward protrusions move like involuntary jerks, until the whole form is moving spasmodically.
And then, the shape erupts, and - I can't move - all I can think of is my head feeling like it's erratically thrashing and my headache is splitting it open and sound of waves of the sea crashing are pushed out of my head by a siren.
A loud siren.
Chilling my body to the core.
// posted by Sooki Monster @ 7:20 PM 
