A Late Morning's DreamA Story by LeahThis was actually a series of impulsive tweets. I haven't really bothered with re-writing the whole piece so.... TA-DA~I
was found flawless, on a high-rised rosy bed, made entirely of large, crystal
staves. The "beds" were vast in numbers. A domain of haunt. There
were beasts, as saccharine as the structures. In a slow-mo pace, they were my
sleeping hunters. And I am the hunted. Their sole prey. These
freaks, as though they were formed by the very hands of Giger, leapt from bed to
bed, some fell, slashed and shredded to their end. One selectively finished its
race. My
necrosis had eluded every stake and was now ready to be crowned. However, its
mass was just as lithe… Instinctively, I lifted the monster with both hands and
flung it effortlessly over my edge. Yet this being, was reborn… By
fluke… they fell to oblivion. But by my hand, shall they be reformed? A fresh
head thrived from its first gash as it dangled, mid-air. This new face, new
head, new set of fangs much like the mouth of a leech, elongation of its neck
t'ward me, line of flight t'ward its mark. Leaving its body where it remained
slashed, this radical head shot up, fast forward, then languidly dripped above
where I was glued. For
whatever remarkable reason, I was shocked calmly by a mundane revelation that I
alone inhabited this domain, my world, my Earth. What
seemed like a manual drilling instrument used by old rednecks and hillbillies
alike, manifested, readily gripped by my right hand. And I held Time within my
cranium. Drilled, drilled I did, a way of escape, a hide-out, mayhaps... Into
the staves, I manually penetrated. Constructing a grave fit for a babe, merely
to find an infestation of rats. A Kingdom of Rats. My sweet city was home to the worm... The beast was reaching its final checkpoint when I rose to a melodious aria... You rang, Mother? © 2013 LeahAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorLeahSingaporeAboutOther sites: http://embryonicpith.deviantart.com/ http://www.facebook.com/embryonic.pith (Temporarily de-activated) " We are the music makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering b.. more..Writing
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