Monday night weirdness, part Deux
ok, as threatened two weeks ago, this is part two of http://labrysinthe.livejournal.com/164090.html. advisory: read part 1 first! yeah, yeah...
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mayim and crane take your hands and lead you to the door in the crooked knots of trees. you look back at mayim, betrayed. 'we're not kicking you out, little froglet,' she says. 'it's not a door out, but in. we brought you a surprise. come back when you're done.' smile so radiant you pull closer to warm yourself by it. she gives you a gentle shove. 'go on.'
you heave a forlorn treble sigh that makes everyone giggle, and then:
you push open the door and go in.
it is surprisingly bright in the hollow tree, as if the supersaturated yellow walls are really sunbeams captured and sedated, seething in an infinitely slow nuclear reaction. there is a low table dabbed rainbow in fingerpaint. on it hulks a yellow-green-orange playdoh altar covered with resin, spent incense and burnt coals. toy trucks line up to and from the table, spilling ash over the warped wooden floor and tracking it in lines and spirals.
in the corner something colourful and filthy. a heap of molecules? magnified snowflakes maybe? ah, rhythmic print: a blanket.
it moves.
you jump back, scattering ash and toy trucks.
a pointy little face pokes out of the filthy colourful blanket.
both of you scream. you fling yourself backwards against the wall, panting and crouching. the face disappears. the blanket rocks back and forth.
you whirl, slamming your palms against the wall for the door. where is it? mayim, you lied! there is an evil blanket in here!
'are you the surprise?' the blanket whispers. hm, educated blanket, knows english. hugging the wall, you shake your head no, leave me alone...
it laughs, high voice. 'yes you are.' oh. the blanket is female. maybe it will be nice and wait a few minutes before flapping over and eating you.
wary, you turn around halfway, look over your shoulder.
'although i'm probably just as big a surprise to you.' the blanket's face is still hooded, but her eyes glow at you. you shrink into yourself, nodding. 'don't you talk?' she asks.
it's not really that, you think. there are just too many words and pictures and colours in your head and most of them are silly and you don't know how to sort them out or whether anyone will listen or understand anyway so even if you did start, where and how and...
'it's all right. heard quite enough talking anyway from the people outside...' the blanket hugs herself, shivering. 'they don't think we're real, you know. either of us.'
you clasp your own hand. sweaty. dirty. real enough.
'we're their hallucinations,' she says.
what?
'i mean that's what they think.' the blanket laughs dryly. 'you know they're not from here -- right? popping in and out like they do.'
memory: crane and the robbers flickering in around you the first day...
'they can't see us or any of this dimension unless they put a magic bit of molecule paper under their tongue.' you almost laugh at the idea, but remember mayim blinking into existence, finger in her mouth. 'and one little paper lasts about half a day. when the drug runs out, so do they. some of them just keep eating it, because it's nicer here. but what gets them all excited is, they all see us -- you and me and the forest -- the same. not how hallucinations usually behave.'
do hallucinations behave? this blanket is confused. and confusing --
'so, they're all constantly on about group hallucinations. group mind. oooh, collective unconscious, la la la, very fancy, very jungian. as long as they don't have to believe this dimension is real too. to some of them that means insanity, final proof they've eaten too much molecule paper. no doubt one or two of them call you an "entity" and don't look too closely at you?'
fez guy. yes.
'well, they're all split now. the more human of them are starting to question how they treat us. i heard them talking about you, how lonely you seem. i think i'm supposed to be a present for you.'
hm? some present...
'they expect us to fuck,' says the blanket matter-of-factly. 'after all, it's what they'd do in our place. i think the mud-hair girl was behind the idea.'
you giggle in amazement. hee hee hee! they want me to make sweet love to a crazy blanket i barely know...?
outside the confining wall you hear your own laughter. you choke, confused, turning to the wall, putting a shaking hand there. the laughter echoes on, then mayim's voice outside: 'see! it's working...'
it's not your laughter: it's mayim's. she's spying on you!
huffing, you turn back to the blanket, ready to give it a piece of your mind, and not a single piece of anything else.
the coloured pattern slips down, exposing ashen white flesh.
bare shoulders. and the pointy little face you saw before, dirty but elfin. there's a girl in the blanket! but no clothes on. hastily she pulls the blanket back up, wrapping it tightly around herself. both of you make the same noise: eep!
the girl in the blanket clears her throat. 'about the whole free-love thing they're into. well, i'm not. um, not that you don't seem nice, but...' you nod, smile in relief. 'right,' she says. 'just because we're both "entities" and tend to scream simultaneously doesn't mean we have to...' she trails off, a touch annoyed, as if she'd expected you to at least beg a bit. 'you know, i wasn't always this dirty.' she shivers in her blanket, wipes her nose with an ash-smeared finger. something jingles under the blanket.
'if you're so cold, why don't you wear clothes?' the words burst out, your voice cracking.
she twitches, gapes at you. 'see, you do talk.' half-smile. 'i don't have any, that's why.'
'the robbers took them?'
'robbers -- ? no, the attendants. i kept running away.'
your mouth opens, but the words are gone again.
'i'm not on the same drugs as the people outside,' she whispers. 'i'm on the legal kind, not the fun kind. they give them to me in the hospital to keep me from coming back here -- this dimension you and i live in. but i've found a way to stay here.' you hear the jingling again. she worms a grey hand out of the blanket.
around her wrist is a chain, attached to a ring in the warped floor.
'the hospital can't get me anymore.' her teeth chatter, then stop, jaw setting stubbornly. 'i like it here better. i'm not going back.'
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episode 3
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mayim and crane take your hands and lead you to the door in the crooked knots of trees. you look back at mayim, betrayed. 'we're not kicking you out, little froglet,' she says. 'it's not a door out, but in. we brought you a surprise. come back when you're done.' smile so radiant you pull closer to warm yourself by it. she gives you a gentle shove. 'go on.'
you heave a forlorn treble sigh that makes everyone giggle, and then:
you push open the door and go in.
it is surprisingly bright in the hollow tree, as if the supersaturated yellow walls are really sunbeams captured and sedated, seething in an infinitely slow nuclear reaction. there is a low table dabbed rainbow in fingerpaint. on it hulks a yellow-green-orange playdoh altar covered with resin, spent incense and burnt coals. toy trucks line up to and from the table, spilling ash over the warped wooden floor and tracking it in lines and spirals.
in the corner something colourful and filthy. a heap of molecules? magnified snowflakes maybe? ah, rhythmic print: a blanket.
it moves.
you jump back, scattering ash and toy trucks.
a pointy little face pokes out of the filthy colourful blanket.
both of you scream. you fling yourself backwards against the wall, panting and crouching. the face disappears. the blanket rocks back and forth.
you whirl, slamming your palms against the wall for the door. where is it? mayim, you lied! there is an evil blanket in here!
'are you the surprise?' the blanket whispers. hm, educated blanket, knows english. hugging the wall, you shake your head no, leave me alone...
it laughs, high voice. 'yes you are.' oh. the blanket is female. maybe it will be nice and wait a few minutes before flapping over and eating you.
wary, you turn around halfway, look over your shoulder.
'although i'm probably just as big a surprise to you.' the blanket's face is still hooded, but her eyes glow at you. you shrink into yourself, nodding. 'don't you talk?' she asks.
it's not really that, you think. there are just too many words and pictures and colours in your head and most of them are silly and you don't know how to sort them out or whether anyone will listen or understand anyway so even if you did start, where and how and...
'it's all right. heard quite enough talking anyway from the people outside...' the blanket hugs herself, shivering. 'they don't think we're real, you know. either of us.'
you clasp your own hand. sweaty. dirty. real enough.
'we're their hallucinations,' she says.
what?
'i mean that's what they think.' the blanket laughs dryly. 'you know they're not from here -- right? popping in and out like they do.'
memory: crane and the robbers flickering in around you the first day...
'they can't see us or any of this dimension unless they put a magic bit of molecule paper under their tongue.' you almost laugh at the idea, but remember mayim blinking into existence, finger in her mouth. 'and one little paper lasts about half a day. when the drug runs out, so do they. some of them just keep eating it, because it's nicer here. but what gets them all excited is, they all see us -- you and me and the forest -- the same. not how hallucinations usually behave.'
do hallucinations behave? this blanket is confused. and confusing --
'so, they're all constantly on about group hallucinations. group mind. oooh, collective unconscious, la la la, very fancy, very jungian. as long as they don't have to believe this dimension is real too. to some of them that means insanity, final proof they've eaten too much molecule paper. no doubt one or two of them call you an "entity" and don't look too closely at you?'
fez guy. yes.
'well, they're all split now. the more human of them are starting to question how they treat us. i heard them talking about you, how lonely you seem. i think i'm supposed to be a present for you.'
hm? some present...
'they expect us to fuck,' says the blanket matter-of-factly. 'after all, it's what they'd do in our place. i think the mud-hair girl was behind the idea.'
you giggle in amazement. hee hee hee! they want me to make sweet love to a crazy blanket i barely know...?
outside the confining wall you hear your own laughter. you choke, confused, turning to the wall, putting a shaking hand there. the laughter echoes on, then mayim's voice outside: 'see! it's working...'
it's not your laughter: it's mayim's. she's spying on you!
huffing, you turn back to the blanket, ready to give it a piece of your mind, and not a single piece of anything else.
the coloured pattern slips down, exposing ashen white flesh.
bare shoulders. and the pointy little face you saw before, dirty but elfin. there's a girl in the blanket! but no clothes on. hastily she pulls the blanket back up, wrapping it tightly around herself. both of you make the same noise: eep!
the girl in the blanket clears her throat. 'about the whole free-love thing they're into. well, i'm not. um, not that you don't seem nice, but...' you nod, smile in relief. 'right,' she says. 'just because we're both "entities" and tend to scream simultaneously doesn't mean we have to...' she trails off, a touch annoyed, as if she'd expected you to at least beg a bit. 'you know, i wasn't always this dirty.' she shivers in her blanket, wipes her nose with an ash-smeared finger. something jingles under the blanket.
'if you're so cold, why don't you wear clothes?' the words burst out, your voice cracking.
she twitches, gapes at you. 'see, you do talk.' half-smile. 'i don't have any, that's why.'
'the robbers took them?'
'robbers -- ? no, the attendants. i kept running away.'
your mouth opens, but the words are gone again.
'i'm not on the same drugs as the people outside,' she whispers. 'i'm on the legal kind, not the fun kind. they give them to me in the hospital to keep me from coming back here -- this dimension you and i live in. but i've found a way to stay here.' you hear the jingling again. she worms a grey hand out of the blanket.
around her wrist is a chain, attached to a ring in the warped floor.
'the hospital can't get me anymore.' her teeth chatter, then stop, jaw setting stubbornly. 'i like it here better. i'm not going back.'
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episode 3