New chapter for Something New this week... stay tuned. (27 march 2018)
Blinding pain took his legs put from under him. He remembered the trip to the infirmary being more of him being carried than him walking. He remembered the relief that came with the first shot and nothing else beyond that. He was on fire with fever, but when he woke up he felt cold and sticky. His throat hurt and his mouth retained a taste he couldn't describe. But the pain was gone. He made the mistake of opening his eyes, showing consciousness.
"This is why we don't do full contact." The lecture started with the rapping of a rolled news paper on his lower leg.
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Time flies before stopping in a clattered, jumbled mess. Then it expands like oozing magma, intense and slow. Anxious moments let doubtful wounds fester and regrets surface that were long thought innocuously buried. Bubbles gurgle full of worry until no optimistic thoughts remain, just doom. Dreaded doom. Bubbles that snap open when time resumes and regrets sink like stones.
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Fast, blunt, shocking and bright. All at once: painful and bright. A washed out flash of violence assailing through cracks beneath doors and from around window shades. Sick swirls of accompanying vomit that churned into chunky butter from the sticky cream of last night's mistakes.
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Stories sometimes stick long past their expiration. Tidbits from childhood cling like burnt flesh on pans, souring and emitting a stench that curls noses each unfortunate remembrance.
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