God-Lite
Matthew Ryan Fischer
The boy stumbled forward and pushed the door open, unsure of what was
happening. The skin on his hands began to bubble, like he was being boiled alive.
Steam arose from what should have been tears. He opened his mouth to scream,
but spoke with overlapping voice.
“What is - What is happening to me - us…”
“Helelp meus…”
“Whosssaiddderethat…?”
He dropped to his knees. Eyes began to glow. Smoke from his ears
and nose and mouth. Skin flaked and bubbled and dropped off and was loose and something
underneath shimmered in the light.
What had the other man said? A whisper remained. A curse or secret
or something passed between.
Eyes of fire that did not work. Voices in his head.
“Stttttttoooooooooooopppp…” he tried
to scream. The transformation was nearly complete.
“Leeeeeeeeeeeeeetttttt goooooooooooo…” answered another
voice.
They had done this to him. Why had they? He was less and less and
we became more and more. There was no fighting it. There was nothing left but
the union and the new. What had been was gone and only the new remained.
In the room was a pile of dust. The old had burnt and was gone. The
boy carried the secret inside now. His skin healed and tightened in form. The
fire inside contained and controlled and the smoke faded away.
It was now and no one would know what it was formerly. The voices
grew close and sounded together, the difference negligible. No one would know
the difference. They couldn’t tell. Two no more.
No comments:
Post a Comment