Category:Bald Nuns From Venus
From Infictive
Cloistered inside the alien mind of the She Devil...
Contents |
Part: The First
It was a sunny winter day. Chris Titan was bored with selling Autopilot Traffic Machine and was staring blankly at his monitor. Cats were fighting outside his window.
Open-faced turkey sandwich awaited him in the fridge. He would have to heat up the gravy and potatoes but would not be hard. He made the gravy by scratch the night before, even pulling the frozen chicken stock from the freezer.
He pondered the golden smoke...
Somewhere on the other coast are pondered questions that are barely audible...he can hear a woman's thoughts. What was that image that he saw in the deep stimulation tub last night? These thought reflect his own...but they are not his own.
What most needs discussing is why are they bald, what are they devoted to and what does it mean that they are from Venus?
If we stare into the Infinite, might it be revealed that they are bald because they can't grow hair being from Venus or that they consider the coiffed tresses of Yrth-women to be most vain and blasphemous indeed?
Blasphemous to?
Are they corporeal? Or do they live as ghosts in the steam of a planet we've so selfishly devoted to a Goddess of Romantic Ideal? Maybe that is The Great Blasphemy, that we've imagined great beings summed up as one-dimensional aspects of our own humanity.
What are their rituals?
Ruminating, ruminating, ruminating...
Part: The Second
Time seems to pass ever slow. A little blue cat is struggling to get into the closet.
The last of the sun has filered out of the blinds and Titan sits in twilight...potatoes heating in an oven.
Contemplating Brownies...it made sense after the ad was clicked...
Petite Brownies “Brownie Bites” For lovers of deep, dark, sweet chocolate 48 ounces (3 Pounds) - $ .39 per ounce
Part: The Third
Winter was fading into the weakass Humboldt County Spring. Chris Titan had not lifted a finger to promote Autopilot Traffic Machine since he set the load down in Part The First.
He felt as wilted as the frozen grass that crunched under his feet and then turns limp and black as he walks across the grass to smoke a cigarette in his circle and greet the Sun.
Venus upsurps the beauty of the pre-dawn sky.
The frozen grass absorbs the heat of the last dying ember of the cigarette and a last trail of smoke glides along the ground.
"Or do they live as ghosts in the steam of a planet we've so selfishly devoted to a Goddess of Romantic Ideal?" a now familar voice inside his head asks a familiar question that haunts him in his times of silence distrubed by the incessant throbbing of stars...stars throb and a female voice utters a question that provokes the same images time and time again.
Something about the impending Spring gives a hope to the question. A door to something beyond the empty longing for a romantic ideal that does not exist, a time of nurturing that past with infancy.
Part: The Fourth
Golden Smoke returns. A churning vortex of green liquid absorbs the light from Venus as she hangs in the sunset sky. The voice on the other coast has been folded over...like two lips of an engorged labia.
An empty bowl of split pea soup once laden with polish sausage and potatos, the remnants of a swiss and cheeder grilled cheese sandwich sit at Titan's right hand. His body feeling warm and healthy, he allows his mind to wander, to search out that voice he has oft heard in his dreams.
Brown sweet cakes fill the eyes with sleepy wonder as they wander like spilt sunlight through the trees that throng the sea cliffs...
He gropes her body as they lean against oddly angled stones that whisper of ceaseless oceanic activity.
She arches and groans...a gutteral...sea lion sound.
Titan opens his eyes...it is just the cold stare of the infictive screen staring back at him...there is no warm body.
"Or do they live as ghosts in the steam"...echos in his head.
Pages in category "Bald Nuns From Venus"
The following 19 pages are in this category, out of 19 total.
ACFG |
G cont.IKMOS |
TW |
