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 doesn't flinch at the sight of who peers down at her. Startles like chisel marks in a statue. Hard as a Chernobyl tomb. Response to the bone saw man is a facial of callous grinning derision. Freckle face teeth.
"I'm a woman who can smell your succulent tasty treats, Mr. bone saw motherfucker. You can see me? I don't care. You should be wondering how it is I can see you."
Bone saw smirk.
Judith shrugs. Knows what's coming like a deja vu.
A gripping hand crushes Judith's shoulder from behind and another cripples her crotch. Lifts Judith up overhead. Throws her across the room. Smashes face through the torture table. Dents stainless steel. Crunches into the glossy blue cinder brick wall on the other side. Head hits pristine floor in the fall. Finds her face upside down. Body above her mind. Blood spurts from caesura lips and crooked nose. Art project contortion of red black line splotches upon blue. Somewhere, Jackson Pollock has a smile upon his casual inebriation.
Laughter comes from the bone saw man. He's thoroughly annoying. Judith listens to his rhetoric as she rises from the attack.
Watches the Terra revenant move like a red plaid beast toward her. Slowly. Menacingly. Not like the doppelgänger who Judith made a banquet of. No. This sickly malachite eye revenant has no need for stealth or swiftness. Terra's a juggernaut.
Bone saw man places words into the air.
"Ah well, whoever you are, naked girl, enjoy what's coming to you. I'll make a mental note of you. Coppery green and grey hair on another simulacra inspired replication of Terra Coal. Well, imposter, meet the real thing. I guess you should have stayed in the mire."
Confusion.
Judith has no idea what the bone saw man's talking about. She isn't a replication or anything like that. The mire? She's an ancient thing of dust and border trees. Actions upon silhouettes encompassed within seasons. Judith's not of this world. She's not a mire girl. Not. Not? Or is she? How would she know? She can't really remember what came before her dust bowl life of apparitions and shadows, though there're some vague societal conditionings situated in her lack of perceptional culture and etiquette. Thinks she remembers being someone's sister and daughter, but it's been so long. Is certainty ever a certainty? What hegemony does this black hair, scowling, laughing monster mistake her being subjugated to?
"Keep pretending you know everything, motherfucker. I guess your arrogance has no limit, but your knowledge does. Keep assuming who I am to categorize me with your less than modern version of thinking. You're merely a reaction of your conditions. Maybe it's you who needs to go back into whatever "the mire" is. I'll eat up your tasty treats when I find you outside this imagination, my man!"
Bone saw man drops his smile. Gives Judith a quizzical look, like he's mistaking himself, thinking about something for the first time. Recollections. His lips move silently. Relaxes grip on his bone saw. Taps a serration with one finger.
