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wytchcroftthree:
My brother has marble eyes. He never blinks.
i say to him, with my mind, i tell him everything so he will know it’s me and that i’m here, and that they have me in chains but when they were wheeling me in to this place, wheeling me down the long dark passages, i saw something.
Just for a second, under the bare bulb of a junction box, on the wall.
i saw a picture of a girl with wings, like a bird or an angel, scratched into the tin, crude and forever*.
i wonder if my brother saw that too, maybe one time when they had to move him or maybe just, maybe he sees it anyway, like his dreams.
And there's a thick feeling, taste in my mouth, metallic like when i got my tongue pierced by that back alley vender and the anaesthetic was wearing off and i could taste the metal and the blood for the first time -
and i couldn't say anything about it because my tongue didn't work and my mouth was just asleep.
But i realised something, lying so close to the walls, my ear against the cold of it.
i want my brother to know that too.
i was wrong, the ships aren't empty. i can hear, hums, ticks, vibrations, signals from the life the ship has had, memories, ghosts, singing in the bulkheads and between the hull plates; The ghosts of the gone time, the ghosts of before.
i hear singing and i can hear footsteps and music. i can hear the ship singing to itself, to the other abandoned boats - and to me.
When they wheel me into the chamber where my brother is kept and where the man talks, i try not to look and i try to listen to the ship singing out to me, i try to hear the songs instead.
But it's hard.
It's hard, and my eyes are open and i'm looking at a tank filled with fish, fish that used to be people, fish without tales.
They just bob in the water. And their marble eyes are open. And one of them is my brother.
But there's the talking man too, behind me, i can feel the warmth and the sugary breath of him.
i don't like it.
i look at my brother. i say to him in my mind, i don't like this.
But still the man's voice is in my ear.
"I know," it says, "your brother. But that's not your brother. When we found him he was just a blank, nothing inside at all and everything that he, that it, is now - well that's down to us.
We have created a life inside. And it's only apposite after all, it's fitting. This place, yes it was a sleep research centre and the people that came here were insomniacs, narcoleptics, sleeping sickness victims.
Some lost in their own minds, their dreams as real as waking, more so even. And others, walking without dreams and nothing in their minds like everyone now, blanks, like you are really, on the inside, just a blank."
i'm not, i tell myself, i sceam it, blank, i'm not! i'm not! i'm not!
..........................
end of three
............................
*and everything is connected Yu, i wrote this before you told of the flying witch!:))
My brother has marble eyes. He never blinks.
i say to him, with my mind, i tell him everything so he will know it’s me and that i’m here, and that they have me in chains but when they were wheeling me in to this place, wheeling me down the long dark passages, i saw something.
Just for a second, under the bare bulb of a junction box, on the wall.
i saw a picture of a girl with wings, like a bird or an angel, scratched into the tin, crude and forever*.
i wonder if my brother saw that too, maybe one time when they had to move him or maybe just, maybe he sees it anyway, like his dreams.
And there's a thick feeling, taste in my mouth, metallic like when i got my tongue pierced by that back alley vender and the anaesthetic was wearing off and i could taste the metal and the blood for the first time -
and i couldn't say anything about it because my tongue didn't work and my mouth was just asleep.
But i realised something, lying so close to the walls, my ear against the cold of it.
i want my brother to know that too.
i was wrong, the ships aren't empty. i can hear, hums, ticks, vibrations, signals from the life the ship has had, memories, ghosts, singing in the bulkheads and between the hull plates; The ghosts of the gone time, the ghosts of before.
i hear singing and i can hear footsteps and music. i can hear the ship singing to itself, to the other abandoned boats - and to me.
When they wheel me into the chamber where my brother is kept and where the man talks, i try not to look and i try to listen to the ship singing out to me, i try to hear the songs instead.
But it's hard.
It's hard, and my eyes are open and i'm looking at a tank filled with fish, fish that used to be people, fish without tales.
They just bob in the water. And their marble eyes are open. And one of them is my brother.
But there's the talking man too, behind me, i can feel the warmth and the sugary breath of him.
i don't like it.
i look at my brother. i say to him in my mind, i don't like this.
But still the man's voice is in my ear.
"I know," it says, "your brother. But that's not your brother. When we found him he was just a blank, nothing inside at all and everything that he, that it, is now - well that's down to us.
We have created a life inside. And it's only apposite after all, it's fitting. This place, yes it was a sleep research centre and the people that came here were insomniacs, narcoleptics, sleeping sickness victims.
Some lost in their own minds, their dreams as real as waking, more so even. And others, walking without dreams and nothing in their minds like everyone now, blanks, like you are really, on the inside, just a blank."
i'm not, i tell myself, i sceam it, blank, i'm not! i'm not! i'm not!
..........................
end of three
............................
*and everything is connected Yu, i wrote this before you told of the flying witch!:))
