Stuck In A Surreal State
Perhaps it is incidental. Perhaps it is the Sister Fates Three, their game of Death at play. Perhaps it is the seven-billion, lethargic pairs of eyes set vacuously on a single CRT television set. Here, it rests, sitting rooted to a table of wood, decaying. Furtively, the wind squeezes in through windows of penetrated glass - an unwelcome visitor. Bang! Heads turn. From the depths of the black box comes a ghostly pale hand, palm smacking on the lifeless screen as it attempts to wrench its way out of the pits. As pale white fingers - skeletal - grasp onto thin air, shrieks of agony and howls of anguish make but noise amidst the silence. Dark winds prompt Reality to pick up the gun, lithe arms threatening suffocation as she moves. Pleads and supplication. Malicious taunts. All for nothing, but death. Eyes can do nothing but stare as Reality shuts down. A final Goodbye, she deviously sketches onto the screen, as the trigger is pulled. We are stuck in a surreal state.
Written by: Cynthia Y.
