( I wrote this at the International Horror Con the year it was in Salt Lake. One of the attending artists had requested to use it a study, for a class, thus the illustration notes below the story, but he never followed up on it. )
Taste of copper and chocolate…migraine bright flash before my eye…crisp apple burst of pain.
Are you here? I know you’re here. I can feel you on my skin. But why is it so dark?
Another silver sharp flash, followed by the pain…and another, and again. Are these artifact…or memory?
Flash. Pain. Flash. Pain. Flash…
I know this rhythm. Shining sharp tip dives through the white, pulling thick soft blackness behind.
A comforting thing…a pulling together. But what are we building?
Am I speaking? I know you hear me. -I- can’t hear me. You hear me. But…am I speaking?
Cold copper pools beneath my tongue, waveless, motion free. Where is the air? Where the light?
(( What I’m thinking of, here, is a visual/visceral continuation of the theme of the flash…stark black and white line drawings, almost woodcut style. Extreme close-ups. The corner of a stitched together eye, the mouth, half sewn half gaping open, a cross of thread at the corner, the other eye, staring blindly, etc. Never a hint of the stitcher, just the one, alone…except for the needle. Maybe even a bit of a sharp glinting tip, or a trailing tail of thread… ))