There are twenty one of us standing in a ring, faces to the firelight and surroundings. There is smoke in our lungs and fog by our shoes. Clothes heavy and weeping from past rain. For this part we stand without speaking - right now, we are listening.
The landscape is neither forest nor buildings. Maybe it's a mix of the two. Strange shapes rising through the dusk into a strange sky. Clouds like the fur of a cat watching you from the corner. It's black and green -the sky- but never blue.
Once we start speaking it's hard to stop. First one, then another. They take their turns, waving their hands, lowering their brows. Using their slick fingers to pull at the string woven through their spine. Each one tells their story, sometimes more.
We watch as they spin a web for us to get caught in.
The tune of many voices fills the air, passing the hours (none of us have watches). Going around and around for nights on end.
Now it's my turn, so I pluck at the knot holding me together. I think I have done this before, not that I remember. I'll begin, by whispering to you about dragon's breath, and then those strange things I see in my mind's eye.
Here are scraps from deep within my mind.
YOU ARE READING
Scraps of A Mind
General FictionUnder my feet is the earth, above my small form is the sky. Both seem endless and vast, stretching onwards forever. In between these things are thoughts, rattling around in my brain like a landslide with no direction. Here are some thoughts, the one...
