Year 23,981
The Parasite deemed Death wraps itself around my neck. It doesn’t hesitate to do the same Itself.
“Do you understand yet, the pleasures of drowning oneself in ichor?” It whispers into my right ear.
“Do you understand yet, the troubles that feast upon life?” Death coos into the other.
“I just want to live in peace. Live a normal life, with the concept of friendship. Why does it have to be like this?” I grasp the rug made of eyelids below me, watching as the world shakes in awe. I know that my decision would ultimately boil away the impurities that was cowardice, and soon reveal a hidden strength in me. I withstand the humiliation, knowing it would take time. I see Its mouths stretch in delight, as my nerves shut down. "Is this what I wanted?"; I see It signal in the affirmative. It was the first year where my spirit had sapped and had gone for suicide.
I gasped.
I verb. I verb.
I. I. I.
I.
I?
The background breaks, and my body goes limp.
Year 23,982
My new form is of my youngest self, the developing fetus of a woman who struggled between being a guardian and being a mother. The world starts out as dark and unassuming; usually does. The longer I wait, the quicker It comes. I squirm my way into the light, barely able to feel the air around me, and immediately burn. The background breaks, and my ashes fly away.
Year 23,983
My new form is myself of indeterminate age. I am in a dark room, the sweet, unfamiliar sounds of blackened wasps buzzing in-between the gaps. Across the table is a Woman, Her identity I am unable to discern.
"Hello?" She walks towards me, and I immediately recognize her gait. "Wait, why are you here too, I thought it was —" The first physical sensation I feel in this place is wet steel entering my liver. She twists right, and I collapse on the floor in a heap.
"How could you do such a thing, my inspiration…" She kneels in front of me and turns my body over. She makes sure to position my head under her knee, so I can only look up at Her face. "How could you abandon me? How could you abandon your mother as well, for the sake of peace…"
"You aren't her after all. Please… please just stop. I want to breathe!"
"You should have thought about that before unleashing your creations upon us." It shook Its head. "Is this the feeling you have felt your whole life made physical? Forming facts into fiction, fiction into facts. Do you understand yet, the knowledge of thoughts?" The room turns stark yellow into as She brings down the blade.
Right pinky. The blood shows an image of a young girl, at the age of 10, being told by her classmates, that she would never amount to anything. Her principal pities her. bright red
Left ring. The skin unravels and shows a portrait, of a child at the age of 12 who once thought he knew what the word "fear" meant. neon pink
Left middle. Veins crawl its way out to write a story. putrid, pale green
When time had a defined construct, two adults separated from each other, leaving their children lost and confused. The children had no idea who to turn to next, and made a promise to each other; this promise would bind the two of them together for the rest of their lives, built upon the solidarity of building new, stable lives as adults. All of this is what they wished for. Instead, their parents remained married, and there would be no semblance of a functional family or close relationship with one another.
All feeling is lost in my left arm now; salt and glucose do not bring sensation back.
Left index. I vomit. "Do you remember your first day working for the Foundation?" the vomit asks. I don't, I reply, strained for the ability to talk, but I assume this means I don't wish to know.. "You looked into the cell of an anomaly, ████, and wish it would have broken free as you walked by it. I remember. Do you remember the anomaly?" Some ████ of █████, wasn't it? "Yes! It's good that you remembered it, because you vomited right after that! They had to transfer you to another site the very next day. Funny how life works." muddy brown
Right ring. The nail breaks into an image. I had bought a gun I have no memory of. There is no memory of me ever using it, or how long I had it. dull grey
Left wrist. I deactivate all my social media accounts, and am demoted to only working on three different projects at the singular site where I had expertise with. a cold and empty white
Right thumb. The bone detaches and pulls itself into my left eye; It spits its rusted blood into the wound. Wasps start to make a nest with my cornea as my socket empties its colors. my research lab
"You should have held on longer, you know. For us, for them." It, who was my sister, now becomes my niece and grins.
"I understand —"
"Do you really?" It shouts at me, in a language I only barely could comprehend. "Do you understand, that which is controlling you? Do you believe I am also the creation of some far-away deity? Do you understand, the one constant tenant of our world?" There were none. "Wrong."
"If there is one, then it is that —"
"Not everything that goes around comes —"
Back around. Shea Stadium, 15 August 1965
The uncertainty of floor and ceiling is now the bowl of a baseball venue I have no knowledge of and no memory of what it looks like, surrounded by men and women of a vintage, peculiar look. I glance around, despite my horrendous sight; my body is fucked, but no one notices or cares in any remote capacity. Four men are in the middle of the stadium with various instruments. Every person's screams are deafening, their volume increasing with each person's yell of ecstasy. There is no end to people.
No end to people.
So many bodies around me forever.
I puke on the kid in front of me, who doesn't seem to notice. My left shoulder is tapped and I turn to look. It's my mother. My right shoulder is tapped, and it is my father.
"Well hello there, gorgeous! Do you recognize us? Truth be told, this is where we first met each other!" my mom shouts. Despite everyone else's voices becoming infinite, her words still take concrete form and meaning, and I am able to hear somehow.
"Yes it is! I don't remember how we managed to get a hold of these tickets, but it sure was a blessing. Without the Fab Four, you would have never been born!" My father nods, looking proud of himself.
"Indeed so! Here's a fun little secret." She leans in to whisper to me. "I almost didn't notice your father because I was so enamored with the music."
"Hah, wasn't everyone, beautiful?" They cackle. I fall to my knees and cry, humors pouring out at a steady rate. "You may also not know this kiddo, but after the show was the first time I introduced your mom to alcohol and cigarettes, thus enabling her addiction and co-dependency for life. It's the little things, you know?"
"Oh sweetie, don't say that! How can our kids even know that's true?" She leans over my body and kisses him on the cheek. "It's not like we stuck together for actual love, you know?"
"At least we made a genuine effort to try."
"Oh hey, they're going to be playing our favorite song next!"
"Now let's carry on with the song," Paul McCartney shouts into the mic for everyone to hear, "that will be the title song from our new film!" He says something I am unable to discern. "This song is called, 'Help!'" The crowd shouts, wild with excitement. The moment Lennon-McCartney strum their guitars, the notes become wires and I feel my lungs empty.
"Aw, don't feel too bad sweetie. We'll see you again at some point! It's not like you're losing anything of value. Your favorite Beatles song was from Magical Mystery Tour anyway, wasn't it?" They cackle as the background shatters, and my essence soars beneath the blue suburban skies.
Year 23,984
Nothing.