The girl from the mire: part 2
Were we ever alive? Were we ever here? Were we ever?
Judith exists in a graveyard. Her tombstone is so old that it looks like a smooth glacial stone. Protrudes into her dusty, dormant grass world. Inhabitants are terri...
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Judith lunges at the layers of darkness. Unafraid of the pale face, jaw snapping doppelgänger.
The shadowy other smiles at a perception of folly. Slips in between the underneath of Judith's legs. Grips the graveyard girl's ass. Climbs up her back. Latches into her flesh with gouging serrations. Steak knife fingernails. Slices Judith's back into tethers.
The graveyard girl swings elbows behind. Misses again and again.
Finally grabs its head. Temples from behind her shoulders. The monster tries to swing its head around for a feast upon the grave yard girl's throat.
Stench wind hits. Howls upon their ragged hair. Torn nudity. Mixes with warring, womanly grunts. The conversation is like the crunch of a car cinching back together by needles and fishing line. Won't work on the jagged metal of either doppelgänger intention.
Crackling distortion of a shadow's voice clicks and crawls chalkboard fingernail voice into the waxy holes of the graveyard girl's listeners.
"Oh Judith, why so feisty? I just want a taste. The blood of your throat will feed your true shadow a fine meal!"
"You're only packing pretence. I know my shadow. You ain't it. You'll never find relief in my intentions, monster."
"You know nothing, sweet, stupid Judith. I'm one of many. Only the peripheral. Look at me riding you like the dead horse you are! It's like you've a crow in your black cherry jaw! It's like flies have tasted every speck of sugar from your head. Do you even know where you are? Do you even recollect who's mind you've suffered for the eternity that your soul has seen? You've never existed in purgatory, Judith! You are the embodiment of it!"
The monster laughs. Deep, sundry escalation. Legion. The louder becomes high pitch and then a low pitch. Soundwaves. Louder. Hands feel for something soft to tear off of Judith's face.
The dead horse that is the graveyard girl knows her eyes aren't blueberries. They're emerald. She's much stronger than this remnant of a pretend revenant who clings like a coward to her back side.
Judith releases the monster's thumping temples and grabs it's oily, crusty black hair. Whips the darkness off her back and slams the malediction into an unbreakable tree, almost turning her doppelgänger into two pulpy pieces. Intestines vomit from torso.
The graveyard girl wonders how she can kill it once and for all. If it's not a reflection, perhaps Judith might turn around from the mirror in her mind and face what has always been licking whistling lips at her fears.
Wrenches open the monster's chest. Breaks, one by one, its black ribs. The horror is a saturation of screams. A deep reverb releases into the putrid air of the dark forest.
With this one action, green eyes open again from far and wide. Take to watching the beginning of the end.
Judith rips its beating, human hair heart out of its spurting arteries. Takes a cardiovascular bite. Texture surprises her. Reminiscence of cooked meat. A tasty, wonderful spice pallet.
