Untitled Nightmare Fragment

Untitled Nightmare Fragment


All there is is me–

All there is is me and the gentle curve of her smile–

All there is is me and the gentle curve of her smile and the rigid rise of her body–

All there is is me and the gentle curve of her smile and the rigid rise of her body and I want.

I want to press my mouth to the sharp ridges of her body.

I want to press my mouth to the sharp ridges of her body and break it open, ease the pressure of my blood and see if it will vibrate the same way free of my flesh that it does trapped within.

I want to press my mouth to the sharp ridges of her body and break it open. I want to taste myself, the hot-thin-red-old-penny taste. I want to break myself open and taste the way I change, cooling, on the surface of her skin, the sharp ridges of her body.

I want to let go and fall and fall and fall and fall–

I want to let go and fall upwards into the granite of her neck.

I want to fall upwards into the granite if her neck and rupture, smear myself across her.

I want to fall upwards into the granite of her neck and rupture, smear myself across her until my intestines drape like pearls across the jut of her collarbones. I want to rupture and shatter so that she brushes the shards of my bones from her shoulders like dandruff.

I want to fall upwards into the granite of her neck and rupture, smear myself across her. I want to make her skin hot and red and shiny with the slick of my body, the smear of my self.

I want to burst myself against the craggy hills of her body and soak in. Soak in until there is nothing left but–

Her–

Her and the gentle curve of her smile–

Her and the gentle curve of her smile and the rigid rise of her body–

Nothing left but her and the gentle curve of her smile and the rigid rise of her body.

Nothing left but her.

Survival instinct

Everyone went somewhere different the day it all changed. Oh sure, plenty of people went to Paris, or Disney World, or any of a number of common tourist destinations. But that day, the one everyone realized they could just think themselves wherever they wanted to be, showed that in some ways, we're surprisingly unique.

The first place I went was a cornfield in Iowa. I'd never been to that area of the country before, and I always wondered what it was like. So I snapped my fingers and presto, there I was, all alone in a scene from the early part of "Field of Dreams." That was enough confirmation for me that not everyone was the same now. But we all make mistakes.

A few hours later, after the initial shock had worn off, people remembered they still had jobs to do, kids to feed, and loved ones to find. Everyone came home and recounted their jaunts, and I was pleasantly surprised to hear about my coworker Carl's journey through the streets of an Eastern European mining town, and my neighbor Suzanne's exploration of the water towers of Ontario.

Within a few weeks, your average man (or woman) had done everything: seen the Wonders of the World, eaten real Italian food, gone ice fishing, and seen the Mona Lisa. And our newfound ability gave us all a sense of being superhuman, which of course was ridiculous, since it was obviously a part of our very nature. (You didn't see squirrels bouncing around to Acapulco; someone would have noticed.) Nonetheless, you started hearing more and more stories of people leaving to do incredibly stupid, dangerous things, as if they had no regard for their own lives.

Exploring the inside of a live volcano? Check. Looking for a giant squid at the bottom of the ocean? Naturally. Picnicking on the surface of the moon? You betcha.

The problem was that none of these people ever reported back. Now, I'd like to imagine that before this all began, it would have been pretty obvious these morons had gotten themselves killed. But as I said, we were starting to believe we were capable of anything.

That's how the rumors got started. Within a few days, half the people I knew were convinced the missing hadn't died, but had simply chosen to stay at their fascinating new locations. Jimmy's swimming with the dolphins! Sophie is exploring Mars! The believers started following suit, and a week later there was hardly anyone left around here.

It's been a month since then. The kids left straight from college, with barely the decency to send a text message. And my wife... she left two weeks ago. She said I was tying her down, while all our friends were off exploring the universe.

Everyone's gone. I suppose they could be right--maybe we are indestructible now. But I at the very least, am not a superman, not as far as I can tell, and I'm not about to test that theory with my life.

I'm only a guy who can go wherever he wants, just like everybody else. Except while everyone else has gone off to the destination of their dreams, I'm stuck by instinct in this lonely nightmare.