The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: Open Bar: Arguments About Turtles, All the Way Down« on: September 17, 2014, 07:10:23 pm »
Little Susie thinks the vomit-yellow and grave-mold-green particles floating amidst the deluge look almost magical in the dim light, against a backdrop of hissing downpour. She presses her little face to the window and stares intently at the mysterious motes dancing about, turning the rain to sloppy sludge as the specks infiltrated each drop. She stares until she perceives, in the lizard portion of her brain, a malevolent sentience in each tiny fleck. Until she can not turn away. Until she can no longer resist their piercing siren wail beyond the glass.
Little Susie flings open the window, letting in the rain. And the spores. Almost instantly she becomes coated in slime. And the spores waste no time getting to know their new food source. Seeping into her skin, the spores burrow. Deeper in, down into the meat and marrow of Little Susie. Burrow until they reached Little Susie's heart.
Now her pulse is in perfect sync with Tucson's. Now Little Susie is a part of something bigger. Older.
Little Susie smiles in the mirror. She smiles with her vomit-yellow lips until her grave-mold-green eyes spark with mirth.
Then she skips off to ask Mommy for permission to go play at a friend's house. Mommy will say yes.
Mommy will do anything Little Susie asks.