And Duncan was hung in the thick of a hollow glass wall packed with black and bubbled jelly. He felt fat and pathetic. A man/child, wedged and whimpering in his flesh-toned bodysuit with all of his organs and veins displayed with colorful, cartoonish accuracy.
Exposed. While fattened ants like golden raisins slogged through tunnels twisted in the jelly.Duncan struggled. Grunting. He squished.
His fingers slipped and squealed against the glass as he squeezed his first friend. He needed this little beast. Green and fuzzy. Stuffed, yet warm.
Duncan was trapped.
Awkward and humiliated. Listening for the horror.
And the grinding.
And Duncan’s struggling ruptured the jelly ceiling of a tunnel below. Fattened ants wrapped and wriggled up his legs. He whined.
He kicked. He slid deeper, puncturing tunnels.
Golden ants scrambled above Duncan’s trembling organs.
Segmented, scuttling up his neck. Feelers wet and barbed. Little legs tickled his lips.
Duncan thrashed against the glass.
And the grinding.
A pitch-black wad shifted in the jelly at the bottom of the wall.
Every tunnel collapsed, sucking Duncan under.
His fuzzy green beast was ripped from his hand.
The black, veined wad jerked, cracking the glass.
Duncan gagged on a jelly-strangled scream.
And the snapping glass splintered into the dark, rubbery muscle. The black, pumping wad.
Duncan sucked jelly. His twisted limbs and body bent: Fat Agony.
A flash of golden light opened Duncan’s eyes. He blinked. He squeezed his sticky lids and lashes. He saw the woman. Outside the glass.
Her skin’s bright edge in the light, now red. She stepped through smoke. Away from him. Sniveling Duncan.
A rapid clacking of metal rattled the glass.
Slimy slivers slipped away from the frenzied wad.
The dense red smoke slowly spread against the wall. Red fingers, palms.
Duncan. Into the red light.
And the pulsating red moon hung in the sky like a misshapen hunk of wax. It purged itself in waves upon the glittering black forest below. The withered trees creaked beneath its steady ebb and flow of liquid red light.
It was a feeding, breathing moon.
Exhaling, it scattered shadows into action. Grabbing, slapping, fucking.
Inhaling, the shadows were then consumed by the withdrawn light.
It recollected and scattered again. A redundant, inbred cycle.
The moon grew fat upon the forest and its fruit. The forest died. Its barren wood now crackled with dead, black sap. Sharp and sparkling.
Duncan slept.
And Duncan was slumped among the roots of a twinkling black tree. The moonlight pushed the fallen flecks of iridescent sap into piles, burying his legs. He kicked in his sleep.
A cloud of sap billowed up into his face. He inhaled.
His body tensed. Relaxed.
Red wisps of smoke dribbled out his nose and mouth.
His face flushed pink. Sticky crystals. He inhaled.
Red skin. Growing. Shedding fat. His bodysuit stretched tight against his swelling muscles.
Duncan muttered a thick puff of red smoke. Expanding. Gathering sap. He inhaled.
His cartoon organs split across his chest.
Duncan was awakened.
And Duncan was loud. Excited. His lungs glowed bright red beneath his dark red skin.
He flexed. Thick and giddy. He ripped the shredded fabric from his slick, fit body. He flung it aside.
He laughed as the trees expanded in the smoke. He danced between them, howling, and the brittle, black bark flaked away revealing red, wet wood underneath. Writhing branches burst into bloom: leaves, buds, fruit.
Scattered sap into Duncan’s red-hot lungs.
He blasted smoke. It was hit by a wave of red light and then alive.
Smiling, vibrant, moonlit apparitions beckoned Duncan.
Come! More forest revived!
Duncan followed.
And Duncan was slumped among the roots of a swelling red tree, naked, fat, and pale.
Broad leaves, sticky buds, and branches heavy with fruit hung down around him as he slept, shivering, slick with sweat.
The thinning smoke dusted Duncan with lingering black sap. His skin, milky-white, soaked it in.
He gasped.
And a black, deformed head rose from a sea of shattered, black glass. Its split, goat’s eyes, shiny and golden. Unblinking. Drifting in its face, like its nose, its mouth. Each an object bobbing in hot tar. Slowly, its lips curled over solid gold teeth.
Duncan was awakened.
And Duncan was shaking. Silent. His eyes were wide. His brains raced. Waiting.
He backed into a tree, bending, crossing his belly with his arms. Turning his knees. Naked and ashamed.
He saw the shredded bodysuit. Relief!
He jumped for the remnants and covered himself as much as possible. His breathing increased.
The smoke had cleared, and the sweet scent of ripe fruit filled the air.
Duncan was hungry.
He wrapped his hands around a heavy, red berry and plucked it from the leaves. It rotted between his fingers, instantly.
Disgusted, Duncan dropped the blackened fruit.
He was angry.
He knew.
And Duncan grabbed another berry hanging in his face. It split its tissue, oozing putrid fluids into his armpit. He shook the curdled fruit from his skin, now cold and gray.
He laughed bitterly and ripped into the spongy red tree. Its color drained. Its branches sagged, dumping clumps of berries into the dirt.
Duncan heard squeaking.
He looked, and little, sickly creatures dug themselves free from the centers of the rotting, fallen fruit. They looked up at Duncan with fear and disdain in their scaly little faces. They fled.
Duncan sneered.
And the rapid clacking of metal rattled his skull.
And Duncan chased these squeaky little creatures into the trees. They tried flight but their flimsy wings, weak and damaged, flapped pathetically behind them. They climbed the highest branches, hoping to escape the fat, gray maniac cackling below.
Then they sensed the smoke. Joy! Their spirits soared and they leaped into salvation.
Duncan reached for the creatures falling through the leaves, but before he could catch them, their wings filled and they fluttered up into the smoke.
Duncan followed.
The smoke thickened.
He raged, until he heard the laughter.
He stopped. His darkness faded.
And Duncan White saw Duncan Red.
And Duncan White fell in love.
Any trace of the gray was quickly erased by his unfolding, golden heart. It spread within his chest, cleansing his body in its warm, soft glow.
He smiled, seeing Duncan Red in all his strength and beauty, laughing and dancing in the smoke and the light.
He calculated the freedom, the excitement. He felt the rush of the creatures bursting from the fruit, then swarming, adoring.
Duncan White whipped up a golden explosion.
Imagine such power! Pure expression unleashed!
These trees would be weeds beneath their feet.
He approached.
And Duncan Red saw Duncan White.
And Duncan Red was horrified.
His bright lungs seized. He staggered back, shocked by the presence of Duncan White. So close! Such a sickening, cruel reminder of what once was. What could be!
He panicked. His swarm scattered. He ran.
Duncan White was stunned and confused. His heart flickered. He ran after Duncan Red.
And Duncan Red, looking back, crashed into a thick, black branch. He scrambled to escape, but Duncan White was upon him.
Gently, Duncan White spoke to Duncan Red.
Duncan Red screamed, smothering his ears.
For Duncan White spoke not words.
Out of his mouth roared the grinding.
And Duncan Red shriveled in the grip of this thick, oppressive darkness. His strength deflated and his mind splattered into quivering bits of loathing, doubt, and fear. He cowered, desperately pleading for release.
Deaf to the grinding of his tongue, Duncan White was bewildered by Duncan Red’s hysteric collapse. He stepped back, concerned.
Silent.
Duncan Red felt the pressure shift. He slowly opened his eyes. Duncan White reached out.
Duncan Red plunged his face into the fallen black sap and sucked it in.
His lungs flashed. He sprayed smoke. It morphed in the moonlight.
And savage apparitions rushed Duncan White.
And Duncan White flailed his arms, fighting to chop through the smoke. Before he could shout an apparition stuffed its fist down his throat. He retched, bent, gasping for breath.
Duncan Red laughed and shoveled his lungs full of sap, breathing deeply, back in action. He looked at Duncan White and blew a heavy, red cloud.
Spirits in the smoke wrapped their hands around Duncan White and lifted him, kicking, up and away.
They dragged him through branches, into the sky, faster, farther from Duncan Red.
Duncan White watched him disappear beneath the leaves, his heart an ember sputtering in mud.
And the apparitions dumped Duncan White from their smoky fingers and vanished in the wind. He crashed through black trees, falling flat on his back. Jagged sap soaked into his skin.
And Duncan White was weeping, curled in a puddle of black and bubbled jelly spilled from the base of the cracked glass wall. The air was thick with the pressure of the grinding, steady and heavy and gaining mass. Duncan White groaned, bones cold, while fattened, golden ants scattered away from him, reducing the light.
Duncan White stared up at the moon.
His motivation taken.
Too many reasons to move.
And Duncan Red was soon reunited with his scaly, winged creatures. His squeaky little people spinning visions in his head.
Duncan Red within a comet, dropping fire on the night.
Duncan Red snapping fangs from the gums of rabid beasts.
Duncan Red taking women, gripping hips, slipping in.
Duncan Red shouting wisdom, opened eyes filled with tears.
Duncan Red chanting anthems, gathered masses dance as one.
Duncan Red rich and thriving, untold millions in his hands.
Duncan Red never ending, never tired, never scared.
Duncan Red is always happy, always laughing, never sad.
Duncan Red. Duncan Red. Duncan Red. Duncan Red.
And Duncan White would have lain beneath the blackened trees, staring up at the moon until his eyes marbleized and his jaw rotted off its hinges, had he not been startled into action by a deep and frightening voice.
Then another horrible voice. Angry and hostile. Biting.
Duncan White whipped his head around, terrified by the nasty, unknown language.
He listened. They were coming closer. His wet lips and jowls quivered.
A roar and a cry and the snapping of trees.
Rumbling steps fast at Duncan White.
Pinned to the ground by falling branches.
Hidden beneath the debris.
He saw them.
And Duncan White was silent, staring through the branches at the pale blue man, wiry and vicious, spitting curses at a ghoulish red woman decomposing above him.
The man’s name: Suck. The woman’s: Wish.
Suck tried to stand erect. His long body cracked and bent backwards, jerking his chest forward. He howled.
Wish rolled her gummy, distended eyes.
Suck flexed forward, struggling to straighten his spine. He couldn’t.
His right arm split from his elbow to his wrist.
Duncan White winced, sickened.
Suck’s arm separated and stretched, snapping tendons, tapering into two sharp and hairy points of red bone.
Wish snorted.
And Duncan White’s insides churned for Suck, twisting pity and disgust.
Wish laughed, watching Suck lurch and lean like some grotesque marionette jerked on uneven strings.
Duncan White seethed. He wanted to find this hideous bitch alone and kill her. But he was afraid.
Suck collapsed. He gathered a dripping black mass beside him and shoved it up at Wish.
She snatched the mass from his hands and spread it apart, exposing gelatinous blue sacs wobbling within.
She glared at Suck.
Suck reached up and plucked a sac from the mass.
He swallowed it whole. His split arm fused.
Wish grinned.
And Wish gurgled sacs snagged in her teeth, gulping blue fluids, her throat open wide.
Veins bright like ice unraveled inside her, tingling, touching. She changed.
Her skin, blistered and weepy, sealed and smoothed. Flapping, cadaverous breasts lifted and filled. Her hair grew long and black, her legs thick and strong.
She shredded the sticky mass, stuffing the last sacs into her system.
Suck pumped lust. He slid his thumb between Wish’s lips. She bit him. He shivered.
Duncan White was repulsed. He hated Wish. Her gilded filth. His eyes crept across her body. Then stared.
First to notice the lumps.
And Wish discovered the pale blue lumps bubbling above her navel. She shrieked.
Suck jumped back, startled.
Wish panicked. New lumps quickly spread against her ribs. She fingered them, screaming.
Suck spoke softly, reaching out to soothe Wish.
Wish exploded, slashing Suck’s face with her nails, knocking him down. She stomped him, gnashing, frothing, enraged.
Suck crumpled under Wish’s attack.
Her kicks split his legs into jagged red segments, bending and stretching. Suck squealed.
Duncan White covered his eyes.
Wish ripped Suck’s arms apart. He wailed, flailing eight limb-tips scraping in the dirt.
Wish raised fists.
Suck summoned his doubles.
And the lumps ruptured, spilling little legs and faces through blue wounds. Shrunken Sucks clung to Wish, climbing and biting her red, ravaged body, spitting in her ears, whispering glimpses of lonely, cold captivity.
Wish withered in a cage concealed deep beneath the surface of an icy blue wasteland. Forever frozen and hopeless, she existed. Rigid as a corpse. Fondled through the bars by Suck, her cage keeper.
Wish resisted.
She flipped back, swatting Suck’s doubles from her head. They hooked and tangled in her hair. She crushed them into her skull.
And the cage cracked. Dimming blue vision.
Suck snarled.
And Suck sprang up stabbing Wish with his sharp, split limbs. Frenzied and rejected, he tried to slice her eyes, breasts, flesh, but Wish was quick and fierce. She cut Suck down.
Duncan White went gray. His head felt hollow and expansive and he twitched, listening to the rapid clacking of metal echoing within his walls.
Clack Clack Clack too much power was allowed her Clack Clack she was never really worth it never Clack Clack Clack dripping right into her pincers snipping Clack Clack who is she Clack look at you Clack Clack run.
And Suck escaped into the forest.
And Wish picked and peeled thin, sticky black filaments from her ears, her eyes, and the corners of her lips. Her legs buckled and she stumbled, weakened by blue poisons still sizzling in her skin.
She dropped, and the red moon covered her with shadows. She whimpered.
And Duncan White recognized the fear.
But the boy heard the woman in the window and he ran up towards her grinding cries. He fumbled with her rubber and was cut by gears. He detached her scalp, searching for circuits. Her painted metal eyes sprung, and the boy cried.
Duncan White let Wish lie.
And the hungry red moon withdrew its heavy light, gathering shadows like fish in a net.
Ingesting all, the moon savored one. The freshest flavor of the catch.
Communion with Wish was familiar and bland.
Smarmy shadows slid over Suck and puddled, shallow and sour.
A bitter blend was Duncan White, boiling down to a stagnating wad.
But Duncan Red was alive. Full of fire and spice. Oblivious to, and thus removed from, all that would rot or dilute his bliss-filled infinity.
He was the one to be seen.
Casting shadows like the light in the smoke rolling through the trees.
And the smoke, poured thick, was spread, bending the trees.
Wish raised her face from her fingers, wrinkled and moist.
Duncan White listened. Jittery. His heart sparked and he twittered. Expectations jangling.
Wish was lifted. She shot through the smoke towards the laughter.
Duncan Red! Duncan Red! Duncan Red! Duncan Red!
Duncan White’s stomach plunged. He hacked through the debris, now red, wet, squirming. To run.
To stop Wish.
He found Wish. He froze.
Seeing scaly, winged creatures pick Wish to pieces.
Squeaking. Squealing.
Duncan White smiled.
And a cold, blue hand snapped across his face, jerking him into the forest.
And Wish was skinned for Duncan Red.
He saw her. Beautifully soft and bright.
He smiled, shaking his head.
These creatures make it so easy!
He beamed.
For he was a young king going over the hills into a shorter story, alone.
There was a mountain, feathered with moss, and black water fell from its mouth into a moat. The king crossed the moat. He met a red woman, sexy and hard, guarding the mouth of the mountain. Laughing, he grabbed her and carried her up inside. Behind the wall of water was a child, pink and singing sweetly.
To choose?
And Duncan Red’s first choice was for fucking.
There were those breasts to swing and her hair to pull and her face and her mouth and her ass and his hands.
And she was always right there for him to take.
So she laid it all out. His giving Wish.
And it crumbled, and it dried, and that child, pink and sweet and skipping, tripped into the light to be with some king. She held his hand.
Wish held Duncan Red.
Catching his eyes, she looked away.
Duncan Red laughed and fucked the phony, knowing the joke:
She’s only a woman.
And Suck’s digging limbs clicked, racing, taking Duncan White past trees, from smoke, down, deep into his hole.
Duncan White cried, fighting for breath. His gripped lips and kidneys, slipping, squished.
Suck fiddled with his fat and laughed.
He flung Duncan White into a crawling wall of blue doubles. Hissing and pinching, they plastered his face with their sticky, black batch.
Blinded, held wide, he was hung.
Suck clutched some white belly and sank his teeth in.
Duncan White shrieked, body flopping.
Suck fed wet and loud. He ripped and bit. Licking.
Duncan White’s mind, fit for blue, whispered visions, winked.
And Duncan White was a giant in this little blue room. Roaring.
He tore down wallpaper and smashed a glass lamp. He flipped the couch. He kicked a TV over.
Suck was bunched in a corner of the room caked with black webs and dead leaves. He cursed Duncan White.
Duncan White reached in and yanked Suck from the webs by one hairy, thin leg. It broke off in his hand.
Suck screamed and Duncan White went wild, punching thumbs in Suck’s eyes. He twisted.
Suck’s neck popped.
And Duncan White heard his own laughter coming from behind him.
He turned.
And the tipped TV was blaring:
Duncan White laughed side by side with Suck in a blue barroom.
Both drunk and drinking.
Music was played, conveying the moment.
Suck and Duncan White as one.
Let the laughter settle in.
They both took a drink from their tall blue mugs. Suck spoke.
And Duncan White spewed blue fluids across the camera.
Suck cackled, slapping him on the back, while Duncan White, wiping his eyes, just couldn’t wait to see the blooper tapes.
The barroom door burst open with wind and snow rushing in.
Duncan White looked outside.
He caught a chill.
And Duncan White slammed the door.
Outside, a crippled figure wrapped in trash struggled to push a rickety cart through the snow. From the cart hung a bell, clinking in the wind.
The figure collapsed beneath a blue street lamp.
A little, prickly head plumped up from under rags packed into the cart.
A mewling baby Suck.
Loving figure frozen! Orphaned!
White light shining brightly from above.
Duncan White came down like an angel, plucking Suck from the rags.
He held him close, his fat little spider with skittering limbs.
Suck tugged on Duncan White’s lips.
And Duncan White smiled, warmly.
And then, there, down, deep in that hole, what was left of Suck’s doubles?
Nothing but husks.
Crunch.
Suck was stunned.
And Duncan White walked up that heap of hollowed bodies. Black clacking carried him into the night.
He took a bow.
He basked in the praise of the twisting face and rolling eyes and golden grin that shifted.
One thousand black hands it clapped. Its glitter filled the hole.
And Duncan White’s belly, black and bruised, once torn, was now unopened. Suck’s tongue still shivered inside him, but Suck he left below.
Suck would starve.
And Duncan White was unconcerned.
And Duncan Red’s hot lungs had cooled. With Wish still beside him, he noticed the change. The dimming.
The smoke had cleared. The trees were wilting. His creatures were quiet, hiding from the light of the moon. They knew.
All the sap was consumed but the moon would keep feeding.
Duncan Red: Depleting.
He watched his body wriggle and fade. He wanted to run.
But Wish touched him. Her fingers were cracked and raw beneath the harsh moonlight.
Shared flaws!
Suddenly, Duncan Red felt strong.
He called down his creatures to shield the light.
And Wish led Duncan Red to shelter.
And Duncan Red followed Wish into a wet red dome. Rippled moonlight oozed across its surface, leaving the inside lit but dry. To see through the ceiling without being seen, Duncan Red felt safe.
He smiled at Wish.
She took his hands and laid them on her belly.
Like clusters of knuckles bundled under her skin: Wish was pregnant.
Duncan Red’s future flashed.
His creatures, squeaking, flicked his face.
Wish grimaced.
He blinked.
He held the creature by its wings. Its little bones cracked in his fist. He shoved the creature, shrieking, through his teeth.
To dream?
Blink.
See Duncan Red sleepwalk.
And Duncan was young and balding and fat, and he sat playing bridge with Wish and the neighbors in this wood-paneled room.
Duncan dumped his cards. He quit. His head dropped onto the table.
Wish apologized.
Such patient neighbors.
The husband tried to keep it light. His wife suggested pie.
Wish strained for grace.
And Duncan could go to the sink and splash his face and look in the mirror. He might find strength and beauty there. Or a spoon in the sink. A sword. To slay the husband. The monster. If Wish and the wife were frightened and naked.
Maybe.
And maybe Duncan was a clown.
The husband helped his wife in the kitchen, getting the pie. Giving time.
Wish whispered through gritted teeth. Did Duncan listen?
Duncan was a rodeo clown. Out of his barrel. He danced. He kicked up some dust and snapped his suspenders. He tackled the rider from the back of the bull. The grandstands gasped. Eight seconds passed.
Wish hit the table. Duncan jumped. She throttled him, hissing, face to face.
Enough is enough! This shit must end!
He knew. He knew.
So? Then?
The husband stuck his happy head in the room.
Who wants pie?
And Wish, she praised the pie.
Wide eyes. Chewing. Smiling. Nodding.
Duncan wondered what would come of this wonderful evening.
With Wish in her cage and some Duncan strapped to an altar.
Another Duncan raised a blade.
Now sacrifice.
Now take these neighbors. These monkeys. These hungry, jumping monkeys screeching, reaching into Wish’s cage and making faces.
They’ll shake the cage.
So Duncan’s coming back now.
Young, chubby Duncan, he’s shuffling the cards. He’s trying the pie. He’s smiling.
Wish watches her neighbors watching Duncan. They can sense it.
He’s a sneeze that needs to be released but she suffers him.
Waiting.
And Duncan Red fed Wish his creatures.
Wish spat them back and barked hard language, startling Duncan Red.
He winced, listening. He tried to find the meaning of her words in her face.
Her narrowed eyes bulged with blood. Wet lips slid into gums, tongue and teeth stained, hanging bits of skin and scales spraying, saying something.
What?
Just shudder, little man.
Just run, like all the others.
Take these feeble creatures and run. With nothing!
Everything I want from you I’ve already taken inside me.
My children will hunt you down.
And they’ll find you.
Weak and waiting to die.
And Duncan Red stood there, shaken and confused. A gaping mute. Infuriating Wish.
Better to let her swell in peace, he reasoned.
Better to leave her alone, for now.
He could learn her language later, after the babies came, and then he’d be able to teach her how to communicate without screaming.
She’d see.
He’d show her that he had feelings and needs, and she’d appreciate it.
He’d be there.
You can’t get rid of me that easy! Heh!...heh...
He needed his creatures, though.
He needed something. Anything to bring the strength.
Wish snickered.
As Duncan Red limped into the moonlight.
And Duncan Red found it all quite frightening.
These frantic shadows. This sibilant wind. His vision dripping, now smearing.
No sap.
He shriveled.
The moon had mashed the forest flat. The trees lay as pale and rubbery as squid. Duncan Red stepped into them, slipping.
His creatures, far too weak to fly, were easy to find and, like mushrooms plucked, offered little resistance.
Duncan Red was gentle with their tender little bodies. He cradled them, pasting his ear to their faces. Hoping for the show.
No.
His creatures were barely breathing.
Duncan Red stifled a scream.
And Duncan White was watching.
And Duncan White would not allow this misery the things it needed to feed upon his Duncan Red dream.
Clack Clack Clack.
Time to take things away.
Snuff out the moon by never stepping into the moonlight again.
Bury these creatures. Drop the burden of their silence.
Blind the eyes that bite the flesh with blood and brains and bones.
Clack Clack.
When Duncan White provides the heart, and Duncan Red, the beat, these things will be forgotten, replaced by one Duncan much too busy to remember them.
But Duncan White feared Duncan Red wouldn’t listen.
And so, he showed him.
And the jelly, black and bubbled, gushing, swept up Duncan Red with Duncan White. It lifted them, flipped them, then, spinning, it sucked them under.
Into its thickness.
Sinking.
Slowly now.
The jelly held them, pressing them together.
Duncan White’s heart ignited, shining.
Duncan Red went limp.
Duncan White lit the jelly, connecting himself to a throbbing black body floating below.
Duncan Red felt the grinding.
Duncan White picked a fat, golden ant from the sleeping giant’s thigh. He rolled the ant between his fingers. He kneaded it. It leaked. He squeezed it. Its skin split.
Duncan, diving in.
Now drown.
And Duncan Red wept.
The moonlight, mingling with his tears, cast shadows, giving shape to those thoughts that caused him such pain.
These shadows danced at Duncan White’s feet.
Shadows giving. Shadows taking. Shadows left alone and breaking.
Duncan White noticed the pattern and laughed.
He knelt to cup Duncan Red’s face.
Duncan Red turned his face to the dirt. He moaned.
Duncan White shook his fist at the moon and grinned.
He covered Duncan Red with leaves. He tucked him in, to rest.
He’d come back as soon as he was finished with her.
Time to take away the pain.
And Duncan White went looking for Wish.
He wandered. He stopped.
He followed her screams into the dome.
He found Wish pressed against the wall, ass up, spraying eggs.
Duncan White was intrigued and amused.
Count the thousands already hanging heavy with fluid.
See these purple veins wiggle thin across their soft, taut membranes, pink and revealing, while shadowy lumps of living tissue quiver within.
Hear the tiny hearts beating under the water.
Duncan White would have it all. Without longing.
And Wish unpacked the last strands of matter from her womb with a grunt before she collapsed, smeared and spent.
And Duncan Red had nothing left to offer.
Take his brain.
It takes this day and it takes this day and it takes this day and it takes this day and it takes these feelings, this fear and these feelings, it takes these feelings, ashamed of these feelings, it takes this rage and it stuffs this rage and it squirms between two mirrors, seeing this day, seeing this day, seeing this infinitely, this day.
And Duncan Red had nothing left to lose.
Take Duncan White.
Take everything Duncan Red would hide and give it to Wish.
What will she see?
See.
And Duncan White took an egg in his soft, moist hand. Tiny feet kicked into his palm. He tickled, pinched, and pricked the pink membrane, squirting hot fluid against his chest. He shivered.
Wish watched him, disgusted. She tried to rise but her arms and legs were too heavy. She cursed Duncan White. She muttered.
Duncan White peeled the membrane from the twitching little body in his hands:
A little woman, plump and red.
Glaring at Duncan White.
Her breathing, shallow, fast.
Deliberately snapping fists full of hair from her head.
Duncan White pried her tiny fingers.
Angry. Shaking.
She screamed.
And the eggs in the dome pumped, slapping in agitation.
The newborn woman shrieked. She jerked. She stiffened. She withered.
She died in Duncan White’s hand. Clack Clack.
Duncan White raged, gray.
He clenched her little body and it bent like leather. He hurled it across the dome, at Wish. He missed her, hitting an egg. He whined.
And it was with him, the black, the clacking.
It showed him the egg he’d hit.
That one, there, with the bruise.
A swirling burst of inky fluid filled the membrane.
He watched it wobble, elongate, expand.
He waited.
He welcomed Duncan Red.
And Duncan Red stepped into the dome, his eyes among her eggs, his children, hanging in their cases, waiting, praying that their father will always be able to make them much greater than all of the others they’ll know. Yo ho.
And Wish, sweet Wish, she needs a man. This man. This promise. See him white and weak and red and mighty. Knowing the lows, but knowing they’re over. No more hoping, hope is here. Now show her. Show her.
Duncan Red would strangle Duncan White.
And Duncan White grabbed that fat black egg, lifting it like a bag of sand.
And Duncan White dropped the egg. It hit the ground and split, spewing. Black sap, sharp and sparkling, shot across the floor.
Duncan Red stepped back, lifting his feet.
Now dance, little children.
Duncan White gripped the dark membrane, shaking it loose, spilling the sap. He slapped it up into the air.
Duncan Red held his lungs. They tingled, itching. He needed to breathe.
He looked at Wish.
Wish was watching Duncan White.
See the fat man? Pure and pasty, untouched. Unsullied. Leave him alone now, children. Let’s move along. Goodbye.
Duncan Red inhaled deeply, sucking the sap into his lungs.
And Wish was watching Duncan Red.
Duncan Red could feel it.
Inhaling. Swelling.
He saw through the eggs, through the dome, through the moon. He laughed. Like cracking plaster and having glass, he knew it.
He smacked his hands on Duncan White. He squeezed.
Duncan White’s golden heart jumped, glowing. He needed to speak, to share this bliss, this opportunity. He smiled, grinding.
Duncan Red dug his fingers into Duncan White’s ears.
Duncan White’s jawbone clicked and, for the first time, he heard.
His words, like boulders slowly rolling underground, bashed his brains in. He stammered, grabbing Duncan Red’s hands.
Listen!
And Duncan White would find it buried and bleeding. It would stir, turning in birth, unfolding its forehead, bending its tongue. It would cry like it was laughing, die like it was living, and never would it blink, once Duncan White opened its eyes.
For, Duncan White’s golden heart was mocking Duncan White. Cast out of the dome by his head, left bent and broken, and the grinding would not stop. Duncan White’s voice was still, but his heart, grinding brightly, continued its assault on his mind:
All that could have been, could never have been.
All that was, was nothing.
And as quickly as Duncan Red had conquered the crushing horror, quicker still was his defeat. Well before the final flakes of sap had fully absorbed into the bright lining of his lungs, Duncan Red was, once again, caving in.
As if angels gathered and, having gathered, became men, so did Duncan Red’s aspirations for glory congeal. Corrupted and heavy, these spirits made flesh remembered heaven like liars caught in a lie. Wincing, they struggled to reclaim their grandeur but, by grasping at shadows, their shame was made complete.
Yet, Duncan Red kept his head.
For the eyes and the eggs.
And every thing will suffer once, at least.
Yes, every thing will bump against the glass, unanswered, once or twice.
Why, at the very least, every thing will slip and, in that moment, it will be exposed.
No thing is exempt.
Thus, every thing must comfort Suck, or else.
If not, some One might be there that day, waiting, when every thing must fall and, just like Suck, some One will not forget.
No thing will be forgiven then.
Suck chuckled, up from his pit to steal pity.
He knew no One would ever be waiting, but every thing never knows.
And Suck stumbled, hunching to suffer under the moon, his limbs as limp as the trees, rolling his eyes left and right, searching for the giver.
He found him:
Creamy and writhing with a fat golden heart just begging to be squeezed.
Duncan White was ready.
While Suck wondered what would most provoke sacrifice, Duncan White got up and came straight at him. Suck was startled. He raised his split arms, on guard. As Duncan White came closer, however, Suck saw that he would not attack.
Duncan White was finished. Overwhelmed by the grinding, he offered Suck all.
And Suck accepted.
And Suck, never one to squander an opportunity for exploitation, cracked Duncan White open, like an oyster, and sucked out his heart.
Duncan White watched it bulge and shine as Suck tried to bite it in half. He waited for the pain, but the pain had been taken away. His grinding mind was quiet.
Suck swallowed the light and was filled with instantaneous omnipotence. He dropped Duncan White and transformed:
A god. A planet. A law.
Suck would use his own body as a vessel; a puppet to move through this substructure he had once thought was life.
And Duncan White died.
And Wish regained her strength in waves. Her eggs were her music, so she moved. She knew the pulse and rhythm and beginning of every egg in every way. Her eggs were made to make her.
Duncan Red, sagging, was happy to have her back. He smiled like a gut-shot soldier in the arms of his beautiful nurse. Just hold me.
Wish would or would not.
And Duncan Red, at the edge of a seaside cliff, worshipped a statue of Wish. The ocean boiled, and up from its depths burst her towering form. Wish shattered the statue, crushing Duncan Red.
B-b-but--?!
And Wish had heard it all before.
Want love. Need love. Please love.
Duncan Red was a beggar, and beggars made Wish sick. Contagious failures scraping their faces licking chipped, cold, empty bowls.
She would not drag this heavy sack any longer. Her hands were full.
Duncan Red dreamed of being an egg.
Wish dismissed him, turning to her future. She slid her fingers gently between the wet and trembling membranes. So warm. So many.
Duncan Red felt it first, and then the eggs reacted. Wish turned, disturbed.
Duncan White’s stomach plunged. He hacked through the debris, now red, wet, squirming. To run.
To stop Wish.
He found Wish. He froze.
Seeing scaly, winged creatures pick Wish to pieces.
Squeaking. Squealing.
Duncan White smiled.
And a cold, blue hand snapped across his face, jerking him into the forest.
And Wish was skinned for Duncan Red.
He saw her. Beautifully soft and bright.
He smiled, shaking his head.
These creatures make it so easy!
He beamed.
For he was a young king going over the hills into a shorter story, alone.
There was a mountain, feathered with moss, and black water fell from its mouth into a moat. The king crossed the moat. He met a red woman, sexy and hard, guarding the mouth of the mountain. Laughing, he grabbed her and carried her up inside. Behind the wall of water was a child, pink and singing sweetly.
To choose?
And Duncan Red’s first choice was for fucking.
There were those breasts to swing and her hair to pull and her face and her mouth and her ass and his hands.
And she was always right there for him to take.
So she laid it all out. His giving Wish.
And it crumbled, and it dried, and that child, pink and sweet and skipping, tripped into the light to be with some king. She held his hand.
Wish held Duncan Red.
Catching his eyes, she looked away.
Duncan Red laughed and fucked the phony, knowing the joke:
She’s only a woman.
And Suck’s digging limbs clicked, racing, taking Duncan White past trees, from smoke, down, deep into his hole.
Duncan White cried, fighting for breath. His gripped lips and kidneys, slipping, squished.
Suck fiddled with his fat and laughed.
He flung Duncan White into a crawling wall of blue doubles. Hissing and pinching, they plastered his face with their sticky, black batch.
Blinded, held wide, he was hung.
Suck clutched some white belly and sank his teeth in.
Duncan White shrieked, body flopping.
Suck fed wet and loud. He ripped and bit. Licking.
Duncan White’s mind, fit for blue, whispered visions, winked.
And Duncan White was a giant in this little blue room. Roaring.
He tore down wallpaper and smashed a glass lamp. He flipped the couch. He kicked a TV over.
Suck was bunched in a corner of the room caked with black webs and dead leaves. He cursed Duncan White.
Duncan White reached in and yanked Suck from the webs by one hairy, thin leg. It broke off in his hand.
Suck screamed and Duncan White went wild, punching thumbs in Suck’s eyes. He twisted.
Suck’s neck popped.
And Duncan White heard his own laughter coming from behind him.
He turned.
And the tipped TV was blaring:
Duncan White laughed side by side with Suck in a blue barroom.
Both drunk and drinking.
Music was played, conveying the moment.
Suck and Duncan White as one.
Let the laughter settle in.
They both took a drink from their tall blue mugs. Suck spoke.
And Duncan White spewed blue fluids across the camera.
Suck cackled, slapping him on the back, while Duncan White, wiping his eyes, just couldn’t wait to see the blooper tapes.
The barroom door burst open with wind and snow rushing in.
Duncan White looked outside.
He caught a chill.
And Duncan White slammed the door.
Outside, a crippled figure wrapped in trash struggled to push a rickety cart through the snow. From the cart hung a bell, clinking in the wind.
The figure collapsed beneath a blue street lamp.
A little, prickly head plumped up from under rags packed into the cart.
A mewling baby Suck.
Loving figure frozen! Orphaned!
White light shining brightly from above.
Duncan White came down like an angel, plucking Suck from the rags.
He held him close, his fat little spider with skittering limbs.
Suck tugged on Duncan White’s lips.
And Duncan White smiled, warmly.
And then, there, down, deep in that hole, what was left of Suck’s doubles?
Nothing but husks.
Crunch.
Suck was stunned.
And Duncan White walked up that heap of hollowed bodies. Black clacking carried him into the night.
He took a bow.
He basked in the praise of the twisting face and rolling eyes and golden grin that shifted.
One thousand black hands it clapped. Its glitter filled the hole.
And Duncan White’s belly, black and bruised, once torn, was now unopened. Suck’s tongue still shivered inside him, but Suck he left below.
Suck would starve.
And Duncan White was unconcerned.
And Duncan Red’s hot lungs had cooled. With Wish still beside him, he noticed the change. The dimming.
The smoke had cleared. The trees were wilting. His creatures were quiet, hiding from the light of the moon. They knew.
All the sap was consumed but the moon would keep feeding.
Duncan Red: Depleting.
He watched his body wriggle and fade. He wanted to run.
But Wish touched him. Her fingers were cracked and raw beneath the harsh moonlight.
Shared flaws!
Suddenly, Duncan Red felt strong.
He called down his creatures to shield the light.
And Wish led Duncan Red to shelter.
And Duncan Red followed Wish into a wet red dome. Rippled moonlight oozed across its surface, leaving the inside lit but dry. To see through the ceiling without being seen, Duncan Red felt safe.
He smiled at Wish.
She took his hands and laid them on her belly.
Like clusters of knuckles bundled under her skin: Wish was pregnant.
Duncan Red’s future flashed.
His creatures, squeaking, flicked his face.
Wish grimaced.
He blinked.
He held the creature by its wings. Its little bones cracked in his fist. He shoved the creature, shrieking, through his teeth.
To dream?
Blink.
See Duncan Red sleepwalk.
And Duncan was young and balding and fat, and he sat playing bridge with Wish and the neighbors in this wood-paneled room.
Duncan dumped his cards. He quit. His head dropped onto the table.
Wish apologized.
Such patient neighbors.
The husband tried to keep it light. His wife suggested pie.
Wish strained for grace.
And Duncan could go to the sink and splash his face and look in the mirror. He might find strength and beauty there. Or a spoon in the sink. A sword. To slay the husband. The monster. If Wish and the wife were frightened and naked.
Maybe.
And maybe Duncan was a clown.
The husband helped his wife in the kitchen, getting the pie. Giving time.
Wish whispered through gritted teeth. Did Duncan listen?
Duncan was a rodeo clown. Out of his barrel. He danced. He kicked up some dust and snapped his suspenders. He tackled the rider from the back of the bull. The grandstands gasped. Eight seconds passed.
Wish hit the table. Duncan jumped. She throttled him, hissing, face to face.
Enough is enough! This shit must end!
He knew. He knew.
So? Then?
The husband stuck his happy head in the room.
Who wants pie?
And Wish, she praised the pie.
Wide eyes. Chewing. Smiling. Nodding.
Duncan wondered what would come of this wonderful evening.
With Wish in her cage and some Duncan strapped to an altar.
Another Duncan raised a blade.
Now sacrifice.
Now take these neighbors. These monkeys. These hungry, jumping monkeys screeching, reaching into Wish’s cage and making faces.
They’ll shake the cage.
So Duncan’s coming back now.
Young, chubby Duncan, he’s shuffling the cards. He’s trying the pie. He’s smiling.
Wish watches her neighbors watching Duncan. They can sense it.
He’s a sneeze that needs to be released but she suffers him.
Waiting.
And Duncan Red fed Wish his creatures.
Wish spat them back and barked hard language, startling Duncan Red.
He winced, listening. He tried to find the meaning of her words in her face.
Her narrowed eyes bulged with blood. Wet lips slid into gums, tongue and teeth stained, hanging bits of skin and scales spraying, saying something.
What?
Just shudder, little man.
Just run, like all the others.
Take these feeble creatures and run. With nothing!
Everything I want from you I’ve already taken inside me.
My children will hunt you down.
And they’ll find you.
Weak and waiting to die.
And Duncan Red stood there, shaken and confused. A gaping mute. Infuriating Wish.
Better to let her swell in peace, he reasoned.
Better to leave her alone, for now.
He could learn her language later, after the babies came, and then he’d be able to teach her how to communicate without screaming.
She’d see.
He’d show her that he had feelings and needs, and she’d appreciate it.
He’d be there.
You can’t get rid of me that easy! Heh!...heh...
He needed his creatures, though.
He needed something. Anything to bring the strength.
Wish snickered.
As Duncan Red limped into the moonlight.
And Duncan Red found it all quite frightening.
These frantic shadows. This sibilant wind. His vision dripping, now smearing.
No sap.
He shriveled.
The moon had mashed the forest flat. The trees lay as pale and rubbery as squid. Duncan Red stepped into them, slipping.
His creatures, far too weak to fly, were easy to find and, like mushrooms plucked, offered little resistance.
Duncan Red was gentle with their tender little bodies. He cradled them, pasting his ear to their faces. Hoping for the show.
No.
His creatures were barely breathing.
Duncan Red stifled a scream.
And Duncan White was watching.
And Duncan White would not allow this misery the things it needed to feed upon his Duncan Red dream.
Clack Clack Clack.
Time to take things away.
Snuff out the moon by never stepping into the moonlight again.
Bury these creatures. Drop the burden of their silence.
Blind the eyes that bite the flesh with blood and brains and bones.
Clack Clack.
When Duncan White provides the heart, and Duncan Red, the beat, these things will be forgotten, replaced by one Duncan much too busy to remember them.
But Duncan White feared Duncan Red wouldn’t listen.
And so, he showed him.
And the jelly, black and bubbled, gushing, swept up Duncan Red with Duncan White. It lifted them, flipped them, then, spinning, it sucked them under.
Into its thickness.
Sinking.
Slowly now.
The jelly held them, pressing them together.
Duncan White’s heart ignited, shining.
Duncan Red went limp.
Duncan White lit the jelly, connecting himself to a throbbing black body floating below.
Duncan Red felt the grinding.
Duncan White picked a fat, golden ant from the sleeping giant’s thigh. He rolled the ant between his fingers. He kneaded it. It leaked. He squeezed it. Its skin split.
Duncan, diving in.
Now drown.
And Duncan Red wept.
The moonlight, mingling with his tears, cast shadows, giving shape to those thoughts that caused him such pain.
These shadows danced at Duncan White’s feet.
Shadows giving. Shadows taking. Shadows left alone and breaking.
Duncan White noticed the pattern and laughed.
He knelt to cup Duncan Red’s face.
Duncan Red turned his face to the dirt. He moaned.
Duncan White shook his fist at the moon and grinned.
He covered Duncan Red with leaves. He tucked him in, to rest.
He’d come back as soon as he was finished with her.
Time to take away the pain.
And Duncan White went looking for Wish.
He wandered. He stopped.
He followed her screams into the dome.
He found Wish pressed against the wall, ass up, spraying eggs.
Duncan White was intrigued and amused.
Count the thousands already hanging heavy with fluid.
See these purple veins wiggle thin across their soft, taut membranes, pink and revealing, while shadowy lumps of living tissue quiver within.
Hear the tiny hearts beating under the water.
Duncan White would have it all. Without longing.
And Wish unpacked the last strands of matter from her womb with a grunt before she collapsed, smeared and spent.
And Duncan Red had nothing left to offer.
Take his brain.
It takes this day and it takes this day and it takes this day and it takes this day and it takes these feelings, this fear and these feelings, it takes these feelings, ashamed of these feelings, it takes this rage and it stuffs this rage and it squirms between two mirrors, seeing this day, seeing this day, seeing this infinitely, this day.
And Duncan Red had nothing left to lose.
Take Duncan White.
Take everything Duncan Red would hide and give it to Wish.
What will she see?
See.
And Duncan White took an egg in his soft, moist hand. Tiny feet kicked into his palm. He tickled, pinched, and pricked the pink membrane, squirting hot fluid against his chest. He shivered.
Wish watched him, disgusted. She tried to rise but her arms and legs were too heavy. She cursed Duncan White. She muttered.
Duncan White peeled the membrane from the twitching little body in his hands:
A little woman, plump and red.
Glaring at Duncan White.
Her breathing, shallow, fast.
Deliberately snapping fists full of hair from her head.
Duncan White pried her tiny fingers.
Angry. Shaking.
She screamed.
And the eggs in the dome pumped, slapping in agitation.
The newborn woman shrieked. She jerked. She stiffened. She withered.
She died in Duncan White’s hand. Clack Clack.
Duncan White raged, gray.
He clenched her little body and it bent like leather. He hurled it across the dome, at Wish. He missed her, hitting an egg. He whined.
And it was with him, the black, the clacking.
It showed him the egg he’d hit.
That one, there, with the bruise.
A swirling burst of inky fluid filled the membrane.
He watched it wobble, elongate, expand.
He waited.
He welcomed Duncan Red.
And Duncan Red stepped into the dome, his eyes among her eggs, his children, hanging in their cases, waiting, praying that their father will always be able to make them much greater than all of the others they’ll know. Yo ho.
And Wish, sweet Wish, she needs a man. This man. This promise. See him white and weak and red and mighty. Knowing the lows, but knowing they’re over. No more hoping, hope is here. Now show her. Show her.
Duncan Red would strangle Duncan White.
And Duncan White grabbed that fat black egg, lifting it like a bag of sand.
And Duncan White dropped the egg. It hit the ground and split, spewing. Black sap, sharp and sparkling, shot across the floor.
Duncan Red stepped back, lifting his feet.
Now dance, little children.
Duncan White gripped the dark membrane, shaking it loose, spilling the sap. He slapped it up into the air.
Duncan Red held his lungs. They tingled, itching. He needed to breathe.
He looked at Wish.
Wish was watching Duncan White.
See the fat man? Pure and pasty, untouched. Unsullied. Leave him alone now, children. Let’s move along. Goodbye.
Duncan Red inhaled deeply, sucking the sap into his lungs.
And Wish was watching Duncan Red.
Duncan Red could feel it.
Inhaling. Swelling.
He saw through the eggs, through the dome, through the moon. He laughed. Like cracking plaster and having glass, he knew it.
He smacked his hands on Duncan White. He squeezed.
Duncan White’s golden heart jumped, glowing. He needed to speak, to share this bliss, this opportunity. He smiled, grinding.
Duncan Red dug his fingers into Duncan White’s ears.
Duncan White’s jawbone clicked and, for the first time, he heard.
His words, like boulders slowly rolling underground, bashed his brains in. He stammered, grabbing Duncan Red’s hands.
Listen!
And Duncan White would find it buried and bleeding. It would stir, turning in birth, unfolding its forehead, bending its tongue. It would cry like it was laughing, die like it was living, and never would it blink, once Duncan White opened its eyes.
For, Duncan White’s golden heart was mocking Duncan White. Cast out of the dome by his head, left bent and broken, and the grinding would not stop. Duncan White’s voice was still, but his heart, grinding brightly, continued its assault on his mind:
All that could have been, could never have been.
All that was, was nothing.
And as quickly as Duncan Red had conquered the crushing horror, quicker still was his defeat. Well before the final flakes of sap had fully absorbed into the bright lining of his lungs, Duncan Red was, once again, caving in.
As if angels gathered and, having gathered, became men, so did Duncan Red’s aspirations for glory congeal. Corrupted and heavy, these spirits made flesh remembered heaven like liars caught in a lie. Wincing, they struggled to reclaim their grandeur but, by grasping at shadows, their shame was made complete.
Yet, Duncan Red kept his head.
For the eyes and the eggs.
And every thing will suffer once, at least.
Yes, every thing will bump against the glass, unanswered, once or twice.
Why, at the very least, every thing will slip and, in that moment, it will be exposed.
No thing is exempt.
Thus, every thing must comfort Suck, or else.
If not, some One might be there that day, waiting, when every thing must fall and, just like Suck, some One will not forget.
No thing will be forgiven then.
Suck chuckled, up from his pit to steal pity.
He knew no One would ever be waiting, but every thing never knows.
And Suck stumbled, hunching to suffer under the moon, his limbs as limp as the trees, rolling his eyes left and right, searching for the giver.
He found him:
Creamy and writhing with a fat golden heart just begging to be squeezed.
Duncan White was ready.
While Suck wondered what would most provoke sacrifice, Duncan White got up and came straight at him. Suck was startled. He raised his split arms, on guard. As Duncan White came closer, however, Suck saw that he would not attack.
Duncan White was finished. Overwhelmed by the grinding, he offered Suck all.
And Suck accepted.
And Suck, never one to squander an opportunity for exploitation, cracked Duncan White open, like an oyster, and sucked out his heart.
Duncan White watched it bulge and shine as Suck tried to bite it in half. He waited for the pain, but the pain had been taken away. His grinding mind was quiet.
Suck swallowed the light and was filled with instantaneous omnipotence. He dropped Duncan White and transformed:
A god. A planet. A law.
Suck would use his own body as a vessel; a puppet to move through this substructure he had once thought was life.
And Duncan White died.
And Wish regained her strength in waves. Her eggs were her music, so she moved. She knew the pulse and rhythm and beginning of every egg in every way. Her eggs were made to make her.
Duncan Red, sagging, was happy to have her back. He smiled like a gut-shot soldier in the arms of his beautiful nurse. Just hold me.
Wish would or would not.
And Duncan Red, at the edge of a seaside cliff, worshipped a statue of Wish. The ocean boiled, and up from its depths burst her towering form. Wish shattered the statue, crushing Duncan Red.
B-b-but--?!
And Wish had heard it all before.
Want love. Need love. Please love.
Duncan Red was a beggar, and beggars made Wish sick. Contagious failures scraping their faces licking chipped, cold, empty bowls.
She would not drag this heavy sack any longer. Her hands were full.
Duncan Red dreamed of being an egg.
Wish dismissed him, turning to her future. She slid her fingers gently between the wet and trembling membranes. So warm. So many.
Duncan Red felt it first, and then the eggs reacted. Wish turned, disturbed.
And what was Suck was upon them all, like lightning, sharp and blinding.
And Suck had punctured several eggs and drained them (slurping, chewing, pausing for effect) before Wish screamed. She lunged and Suck was suddenly behind her, lifting her hips, twisting her chin. She fought, but Suck had already spoken:
Wish is just another husk.
To be filled or to be crushed?
To submit or to succumb?
Wish has children or Wish had none?
Duncan Red watched it all unfold. His chance. He slammed into Suck. Suck vanished. Duncan Red tumbled, hugging Wish. Suck cackled. Duncan Red jumped up, furiously protective. He faced Suck.
And Wish sank her fangs into Duncan Red’s spine.
And the bright, red moonlight thinned the skin of Duncan White’s translucent corpse. If the wind wouldn’t lift it, the rain would cut it to pieces. Spongy clumps of fungus wouldn’t understand it, and animals would sniff it and forget it. The end.
And Duncan White was something other than that now.
Duncan White was nothing, and nothing does wonders for an overblown soul.
Want nothing. Love nothing. Feel nothing. Fear nothing.
Nothing overcomes.
See?
Take this white wax. It never mattered. The answer is no.
And it twists and it shifts and it grins.
Was? Duncan White.
Is? The Black.
And Duncan Red lay paralyzed, staring, while Wish’s oily venom bent his nerves, curling tissue. As his innards slipped to soup, Duncan Red’s fixed eyes and ears were forced to record every shove and grunt above him.
Wish, with Suck digging, twisting fists inside her, ripping, was still giving. Eggs came loose and splattered on Suck’s back. Wish moaned, holding Suck. Suck flayed Wish, exposing her core. Like wire, Wish was stripped and spread apart. She writhed, taking shape.
And The Black slid into the dome, rolling its golden eyes.
Suck saw it and smiled.
And The Black had more.
And as Suck had Wish, The Black had Duncan Red.
Black hands unraveled atoms, giving Duncan Red a glimpse of what was to become.
Duncan Red was ready.
The Black flashed its golden grin and kissed Duncan Red on the lips.
Red fingers snapped.
And Duncan Red was the man, was the Dragon. He screamed and fire broke his throat. Glowing. Open. Lungs pumping. Eyes like diamonds. He covered Suck and Wish with flames.
Half-burnt and shrieking, Wish dropped, fumbling for Duncan Red. She clawed her way through Suck, through heat.
And Duncan Red released his feelings.
Demons crackling in the fire.
And his demons sang a love song:
One night at a farm, a barn caught fire near a pigpen.
Eleven pigs (all blind) pressed together, listening intently.
Boom!
Eleven pigs squealed, their sight restored.
Little piggy eyes brightened by the fire.
Pigs seeing pigs for the very first time.
And a man, naked and bloody, jumped into the pigpen and slipped, falling hard onto slop. He grabbed his back, punched with buckshot.
Pigs seeing this Being, far from understanding.
Little piggy minds excited.
Another man came running with a shotgun in his hands.
Both men stopped to watch:
Pigs fucking, on fire.
And the red moon knew what was coming.
As demons whittled Wish, whittled Suck with quick, incinerating blades interchanging in the flames.
As eggs popped, bubbling, gummy and hard.
As Duncan Red was lifted with wings obscene.
He shattered the dome, blowing fire in the sky.
Fire falling from a fountain, rising higher, reaching wider.
As another burning circle churns the forest.
(Here it comes.)
As Duncan Red extended, frenzied, headed for the moon.
As his demons screamed his victory.
His body flew apart.
And his ashes, scattered in the wet, red light, clotted and dropped.
As the red moon knew.
And The Black Clack Clack danced.
Its insides rattled in a wet black bag in the middle of its wet black body.
Its body glistened, spinning in the hot, falling ashes, ashes hissing into its skin.
It laughed. It Clack clacked. It laughed.
It twisted, ripping images from The Red now rendered useless:
An empty never-message.
Its rolling, golden eyes cried, shining, as it swallowed something warm.
It shifted, taking this, The Red, and folding it over at the horizon.
It pressed the moon into the dirt.
It grinned.
Its overflowing golden teeth a blur.
Clacking Clack Clacking Clacking Clack Clacking.
And Suck had punctured several eggs and drained them (slurping, chewing, pausing for effect) before Wish screamed. She lunged and Suck was suddenly behind her, lifting her hips, twisting her chin. She fought, but Suck had already spoken:
Wish is just another husk.
To be filled or to be crushed?
To submit or to succumb?
Wish has children or Wish had none?
Duncan Red watched it all unfold. His chance. He slammed into Suck. Suck vanished. Duncan Red tumbled, hugging Wish. Suck cackled. Duncan Red jumped up, furiously protective. He faced Suck.
And Wish sank her fangs into Duncan Red’s spine.
And the bright, red moonlight thinned the skin of Duncan White’s translucent corpse. If the wind wouldn’t lift it, the rain would cut it to pieces. Spongy clumps of fungus wouldn’t understand it, and animals would sniff it and forget it. The end.
And Duncan White was something other than that now.
Duncan White was nothing, and nothing does wonders for an overblown soul.
Want nothing. Love nothing. Feel nothing. Fear nothing.
Nothing overcomes.
See?
Take this white wax. It never mattered. The answer is no.
And it twists and it shifts and it grins.
Was? Duncan White.
Is? The Black.
And Duncan Red lay paralyzed, staring, while Wish’s oily venom bent his nerves, curling tissue. As his innards slipped to soup, Duncan Red’s fixed eyes and ears were forced to record every shove and grunt above him.
Wish, with Suck digging, twisting fists inside her, ripping, was still giving. Eggs came loose and splattered on Suck’s back. Wish moaned, holding Suck. Suck flayed Wish, exposing her core. Like wire, Wish was stripped and spread apart. She writhed, taking shape.
And The Black slid into the dome, rolling its golden eyes.
Suck saw it and smiled.
And The Black had more.
And as Suck had Wish, The Black had Duncan Red.
Black hands unraveled atoms, giving Duncan Red a glimpse of what was to become.
Duncan Red was ready.
The Black flashed its golden grin and kissed Duncan Red on the lips.
Red fingers snapped.
And Duncan Red was the man, was the Dragon. He screamed and fire broke his throat. Glowing. Open. Lungs pumping. Eyes like diamonds. He covered Suck and Wish with flames.
Half-burnt and shrieking, Wish dropped, fumbling for Duncan Red. She clawed her way through Suck, through heat.
And Duncan Red released his feelings.
Demons crackling in the fire.
And his demons sang a love song:
One night at a farm, a barn caught fire near a pigpen.
Eleven pigs (all blind) pressed together, listening intently.
Boom!
Eleven pigs squealed, their sight restored.
Little piggy eyes brightened by the fire.
Pigs seeing pigs for the very first time.
And a man, naked and bloody, jumped into the pigpen and slipped, falling hard onto slop. He grabbed his back, punched with buckshot.
Pigs seeing this Being, far from understanding.
Little piggy minds excited.
Another man came running with a shotgun in his hands.
Both men stopped to watch:
Pigs fucking, on fire.
And the red moon knew what was coming.
As demons whittled Wish, whittled Suck with quick, incinerating blades interchanging in the flames.
As eggs popped, bubbling, gummy and hard.
As Duncan Red was lifted with wings obscene.
He shattered the dome, blowing fire in the sky.
Fire falling from a fountain, rising higher, reaching wider.
As another burning circle churns the forest.
(Here it comes.)
As Duncan Red extended, frenzied, headed for the moon.
As his demons screamed his victory.
His body flew apart.
And his ashes, scattered in the wet, red light, clotted and dropped.
As the red moon knew.
And The Black Clack Clack danced.
Its insides rattled in a wet black bag in the middle of its wet black body.
Its body glistened, spinning in the hot, falling ashes, ashes hissing into its skin.
It laughed. It Clack clacked. It laughed.
It twisted, ripping images from The Red now rendered useless:
An empty never-message.
Its rolling, golden eyes cried, shining, as it swallowed something warm.
It shifted, taking this, The Red, and folding it over at the horizon.
It pressed the moon into the dirt.
It grinned.
Its overflowing golden teeth a blur.
Clacking Clack Clacking Clacking Clack Clacking.
