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 swims away from the Laughter Houses. What she's begun calling the underwater city wasteland. Since those specific letters were the only words on the only legible sign within her vicinity of exploration, Laughter Houses remains in her mind. There're no other street signs or business signs or marketplace symbols of intrusion causing distraction within her internal yammering. Not a single piece of alphabet outside this one phrase has ever revealed itself to her in this locality. Well...there's a slight exception that wanders within Judith's memory and pays for thoughts with tokens of contradiction. The name Terra Coal was carved into a tombstone that disintegrated and woke the army of churchyard revenants. Otherwise, only Laughter Houses has been legible since she left the megalodonic crenellation serration mouth. Judith knows in this place that objects and the material world aren't what they seem. No longer takes the topography literally. No longer duped by the epistemology of epistemology. This whole world and all its experiences are a Möbius strip. A hidden exit in plain sight which leads to many other Möbius strips. Knows that the only sign she's witnessed in this place doesn't mean what it seems to mean.
Judith gurgles to herself.
"Laughter Houses?"
Was this entire city laughing in their abodes? Was their extinction a humorous comedy of screams left unsaid? And by laughing, perhaps the prophecy on the wall means drowning. Maybe everyone had their sanity breath the waters of death all the way to the slaughter house. Because only a butcher would've done this to an entire city.
"Bone saw motherfucker. I recollect you. The tasty treats are a witness to your malevolence. This whole world's been crushed by your tools and terrible thoughts and poison snake oil. I'm certain your fingerprints will be found on every single piece of this city's demise."
Judith no longer views the world as a wayward distraction or an addicts quest for the organs her tastebuds desire. She's done hunting revenants for now, though she'll gladly take a nibble if the opportunity arises. Otherwise, she's leaving. She's leaving to find the proof of herself. Means searching for evidence. Hopefully the existence of her "bad ass" sister and her sister's "bad ass" best friend.
The graveyard girl gurgles to herself again. Floats above the conurbation.
"All of the interactive visions have placed a gift under a tree for me. Whoever's been watching knows I've been a good girl this year. I've grown much stronger and faster from eating tasty treats. I'm not who I thought I was. But I'm certainly still who I am. Regardless of a few new memories changing my outlook on my internal. I still enjoy scaring motherfuckers. I still kinda miss my shadow. And for certain, I love my loins. Pubes. Nub. Flaps and all. Maybe there's a lot more to me behind another curtain that's behind many other curtains. Perhaps I'm the brick wall behind the last drape."
The graveyard girl uses her knees and ankles and elbows along side her arms and legs to propel herself with the technique of the breast stroke. Ascends above the city like an overman. As if she's flying between giant sway bent buildings. The cement and steel of the tall structures look like they've been gutted and are keeling over in pain. Innards of each rotting sepulchre are dark and empty of anything resembling what all of it once was. There's nothing much left to remember in this place. Not even shadows.
