I had been paralyzed, my hands linked tightly in my lap, the coal black rocking chair frozen, cemented to the floor. A distant gun shot blast lingers, faintly hanging in the air. I mechanically hinge to my feet, my knees creaking like wood. The front door is there in the darkness, in this empty cold room. “How long have I been sitting there..” the question begins to formulate in my mind. Walking past the window: in between the thick black lines of a grid the carnage continues. Slimy red, slithering bodies mingle and over lap, writhe and undulate across the street. Gnawing and gnashing, explosions of black liquid bursting, forming puddles, and this is on display, in the front lawn to the house across the street.. I’m stepping one foot after the next, four times when: the door is knocking. The window in the door is bloted out by shadow.
I reach out and turn the door knob, swing open the door, a long quiveringly suspended in-the-air tentacle holds a revolver to my face, shakes then fires.
So I look up and look at the stars, I look back down and see the scene smaller, there I go.
Looking up again, at the stars, they become visible, larger- some 5 pointed, others 6, others 8. I feel a platform under my hand, my body is pressing against it, I look around, and its a wooden circle. Bolts here and there, I feel my body, the buzzing of the platform, lifting me ever upward, reverberating, mechanically humming; the sound fades in.
I look up, bluish mist, still more distant stars, closer cut-out stars sway next to/around my head, I can see the fishing wire. The platform stops, and jostles slightly like an amusement park ride; many large basketball-sized plumes of cotton lay on either side of a path like bushes, the path itself is matted with layers of glitter. I step out onto a plastic step with factory grooves in it, up 2 more and then arrive on the glitter path. I hear the fart of cloud machines- PshFfff- and on either side of me jets at first, of grey cloud turn into fluffy atmosphere rising into the air, tiny poison crystals of which land on my tongue.
I walk down this path, when I come to an opening, a large concert hall draped in black curtains, 3 beams of light direct and focus on me. As I walk, I see on either side of the path, now made of wood: small red light bulbs screwed into a line along the path; they light-up row by row as I walk past them to the stage. On the stage a large 5 sided star shaped throne sits, the body of which, from the top prong down to the bottom two form the shape of a rocket ship, while the side two just kind of point out like underdeveloped fins. Sitting there, on a pillow, in a large oval mouth carved out of the side of the ship, sits God. As I walk closer, I can see that he is a tall adolescent, with a fake beard, and a robe made of canvas that had apparently been soaked in tea or something to give it a rustic look. Slowly, deliberately, he looks up and feigns surprise at me standing there, all spotlit. He rises to his feet and out-stretches his arms, contorting his face not convincingly into a fatherly DeNiro like expression.
He walks towards me mumbling incoherently, then surrounds my mid-section with his arms, like a hug, pressing the side of his head to my chest. Suddenly, I’m lifted upward by a belt that has appeared around me, squeezing my guts, burning my skin, tightening, pulling me up! I realize almost immediately that I’m being lifted by some hitherto now hidden crane, maybe having been draped in black curtain. I look down at a shrinking god who is waving, waving at me from the stage, then turns and walks back to his pillowed star throne.
The crane takes me to a balcony booth, one of many openings in the wall surrounding the auditorium; craning one’s head back, allowed the view of a huge blown-up and pasted-on photograph of a galaxy spread-out on the surface of the vast dome-shaped ceiling. As I arrive, I see two robed figures march passed the black draped rows of seats of the booth; four red dots fix on me. Still suspended my shoes feel the lip of the balcony as gravity applies my body to it. I feel around the thick leather belt presently clinging to me, find a square buckle a little to my left side and start to finger it. When I am set on by these figures, snatching at me with two pairs of leathery black grabbing hands. I’m grappled so fiercely I fall back a little, as their squeezing arms get hold. I struggle violently, then look down into red singeing eyes, inside black cloth masks. Trying to make sense of what they are, I rule out that they are any sort of human.
I realize, suddenly that I’d been freed from the crane’s belt, I fall, wrestling and groping into the two black figures. I elbow and punch them, constantly turning out of their persistent grip. Studying them now, I see that firstly, they’re bodies are short, maybe five feet, hunched, contorted into an almost S shape. Their eyes: solid black O’s like a bear’s, only, at the center lies a rotating fiery red gear. They snort, and make feral noises. I struggle, they are faster, but weaker than me; are too close to hit me with any force, but can take several blows from me, without any result besides more grunting and snorting.
Then, the back of my head tingles, and my hair stands on end; so I look back over my shoulder, and down to see a glowing blue circle start to form, the light of which glowing increasingly stronger; inside it a white swirling begins. Soon a steady lightning flash, and a bright and shimmering portal bursts into existence halfway between a sea of black draped sheets below and the balcony above. I cling to the edge, resisting being pulled away, deeper into the balcony by the two black robed diminutive minions.
I kick one of the grabbing goons in the face with the heel of my shoe(it felt featureless/no bumps), he howls and falls backwards. The second one grabs me around the neck and pulls forward. I grab his neck and push back. His eyes inflate, growing into horns, then finely twisting into two red hot pokers the heat of which I could feel on my face. I get hold of one of his thumbs and twist it viciously the wrong way, it gives and crackles like a stock of corn. He howls. I leap backward into the air, twist around in time to belly flop right into the middle of the blue dancing lit-up portal.
Blue liquid, swirling…
I wake up in the guts of a small cabin, facing the front door, on a dusty wooden floor. A coat of dust bunnies and spider webs fall off my back like a blanket as I rise to my feet. I walk creakily to the still, front porch, where everything hangs in thick shades of darkness. A bright full moon stuck in the sky, and crickets fill the night.
The white face of a face-mask, that of a child peers out of the darkness, white golf balls for eyes. It glides closer to the edge of the line of moon light, and slithers further. A smiling young face connected to a body dressed in a tailored tux in one world, and a slithering winged beast made-up of swollen slug-like tentacles in this one, emerges. Sitting atop this hideous body, allowing the strange to peer his head into this shadowy world us a bright oval coupling. A personal portal as it were, for the boy. Upon further contemplation of the strange being, smiling, slithering and curiously staring at me with wide-eyes, I conclude any further analysis might in fact drive me insane (or more so).
I lock the door, latch the wooden inside shutters, find the bed in one of two rooms, ratty and filled with dust, the other littered with clumsily stacked furniture draped in ancient sheets. I close the door to my new bedroom, latch it, beat some gritty clouds out of the blankets, lay down, and quickly fall asleep.