At the Seams

Chapter 27: The Unconscious

Chapter 27: The Unconscious

Mary’s mind explodes with wonder—the wonder of birth, of having escaped a lazy kind of death, of…is that a dragon? Innumerable shapes careen through the sky and scurry through the sand like purple confectioners’ sugar. The pink heavens swarm with huge, eagle-headed beasts coasting on golden, feathered wings and strange birdlike creatures with massive, swollen stomachs, scrawny limbs, tiny heads, and wings that appear unable to support the weight. Among the wind-tossed dunes, lumber six-legged mammalian animals, their distinguishing features lost in tumbling, tawny fur. One of these furry monsters looks at Mary and yawns, revealing four mean tusks within the cascading fur. Everywhere, huge trundling beetles scurry and burrow in the powdery sand.

Mary’s first breath explodes from her in a loud moan, as the beauty and strangeness of this world flood her. Though danger circles her from every angle, with some of the creatures now keenly interested in the worm descending from the purple ball in the sky, Mary feels no fear—only a mad drive and a keen appetite for progression. Her instinct to push on is mindless and pointless to resist. Mary stares about her, watching, waiting for the queer womb to release her to the remainder of her journey.

Around Mary, a dreamlike sequence of life unfolds. Two of the wooly tusked things fight in the distance, stamping the ground with their meat hammer hooves and charging, goring each other to bloody ribbons with their cruel tusks. One of the eagle-headed fliers swoops low over the fight, snatching one of the half-dead competitors in four sets of razor sharp eagle talons. As the thing flies away, screaming in victory, Mary spies a long, thin tail and mammalian rump behind the wings. “Not a dragon, then, but a griffin.” Below her, a handful of the tank-like beetles churn lazily in the soft grit. Every so often, one rises up on its armored, segmented back end and paws with short, spindly legs at the air inches from Mary’s dangling hair. Just as Mary wonders how she might avoid the bugs when she lands, a familiar voice speaks next to her head.

“Welcome to your unconscious, Mary. As you can see, this is the home of your imagination. As you might have inferred from the nature of this place, this is also the home of your instinct. You should move quickly, Mary, from the second you gain your feet. Look, off in the distance there. What do you see?”

Mary scans the horizon from her peculiar, inverted perspective. At first, she sees only abundant, intense life. Every foot of the desert and sky swarms with it. Then she spies a massive architectural structure, resting on the crest of a large dune behind her. In her awkward position, Mary must strain her neck backward to bring the obscurity into view. Mary’s neck and back groan in protest as she tries to curl herself backward into a comma to get a better look.

There, large as life, shimmering like limestone on a clear summer day, is Mary’s castle, a blocky, sprawling monstrosity. The Gothic architecture provocatively juxtaposes the castle’s sparkly material. Dozens of wildly flapping pink banners line the buttresses. The arches are paned with intricate wrought iron screening and painted glass. Castle wings reach and wrap like fingers through the sand of the desert. Gazing at them, Mary hardly dares wonder how many rooms and doors might open to her within those halls. “I see where I’m going next,” Mary says softly.

“Excellent,” Karn says, and Mary hears the smile in its voice. “If you stop, these critters will be on you in a second. It’s only luck they’re not on you now. Don’t wriggle too much before you’re down. Keep moving, once you are. I’ll meet you inside the castle walls.”

Mary tears her eyes from the castle wall; her soul clamors as she does. She has never in life wanted anything more than she now wants to gain that shimmering stronghold. Mary inspects her body. The purple ick has peeled back almost to her waist. Just a few more minutes and her hands will be free. Mary looks around, searching for the familiar floating balloon of a companion who had brought her all this way. She catches sight of it, grateful it has not yet departed. “Wait, I have a question.”