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Blood Smoke
His hands were sand, unfixed, fluxuating into waves of broken particles sprinkled with deep crimson red, the fluidity mimicking the subtle ripples in dark pools of water. They became fixed and unfixed, undulating into tanned and flickering red rolls that glittered in the trickling light. Smack! There was blood smoke. His hands clapped together and billowed over like fireworks in the dark night and huffs of smolder, enlivened with grey and red tints, whispered from the cracks of his fingers that bent backward into sandy fountains. “I like to play with waves and particles,” he said, his voice icy and grated, like the scratching of nails on a chalkboard. “Especially the ones in my body.”
The particles in his hands, now partially compact so that his hands looked somewhat human, began to fuzz as they crawled, wriggling up his pale skin like spindly black spiders. The space around him seemed to scuff and gnaw at his marble face and the air fizzed and pixelated like a lagging compurter screen as waves of colors in every corner of the spectrum rushed all about him in sandy- smears like heatwaves.
Blood bubbled and popped, strung up in strokes in the air and collected again. He then began to melt to the floor, his bony legs giving way into a thick, red gunk that sat on the floor like fat on meat, spewing smokes of crimson to waft the erratic space, buzzing and convulsing around him. “I can turn my body into anything, even as dirt under your fingers... or as sparks of neurons in your brain. I am Information- I can thrive as megabytes on your hard-drive. I am Space- I can snap my fingers and I am gone.” His body began to flicker in and out of sight like an old light in a dim cellar, appearing and dissappearing rappidly. “I -ike -ay-ng wi- wa-s a- par-i-cls,” he repeated, his voice cutting in and out of sound as his body continued to dissappear and reappear like strobe lights. “... Don’t you like watching?”
His voice was eerily monotone without any expression upon his face, not even a kink in his ivory lips or a upswing of the naked brows that hung bulging from his forehead. He began to grow, his legs forming again, collecting from the goop before dispersing into specs of red sand on equally spaced layers of planes that gridded the room, his torso standing in mid-air. He giggled liked a young girl with a battered voice box, still without cracking a smile, “I like this magic trick. I like it. I like it a lot.”
His dark eyes slowly followed a crack in the ground that lead to a mousehole in the wall. This time the composites of another creature became the new toy- a small rat scurried its way into the cold, wet dimness and exposed itself to the rough contours of the room. It squaked as red, black and grey danced from its forehead, slowly decomposing its body into colorful specs that dispersed and swirled around the room like snow in a snowglobe. The rat’s entire body laid sewn into the damp, thick air in a scatter of little red and grey clutters of specs ebbing away into whisps of crimson dust... then, there was only blood smoke.
“I like to play with waves and particles,” he said, “I like it. I like it a lot.”
The particles in his hands, now partially compact so that his hands looked somewhat human, began to fuzz as they crawled, wriggling up his pale skin like spindly black spiders. The space around him seemed to scuff and gnaw at his marble face and the air fizzed and pixelated like a lagging compurter screen as waves of colors in every corner of the spectrum rushed all about him in sandy- smears like heatwaves.
Blood bubbled and popped, strung up in strokes in the air and collected again. He then began to melt to the floor, his bony legs giving way into a thick, red gunk that sat on the floor like fat on meat, spewing smokes of crimson to waft the erratic space, buzzing and convulsing around him. “I can turn my body into anything, even as dirt under your fingers... or as sparks of neurons in your brain. I am Information- I can thrive as megabytes on your hard-drive. I am Space- I can snap my fingers and I am gone.” His body began to flicker in and out of sight like an old light in a dim cellar, appearing and dissappearing rappidly. “I -ike -ay-ng wi- wa-s a- par-i-cls,” he repeated, his voice cutting in and out of sound as his body continued to dissappear and reappear like strobe lights. “... Don’t you like watching?”
His voice was eerily monotone without any expression upon his face, not even a kink in his ivory lips or a upswing of the naked brows that hung bulging from his forehead. He began to grow, his legs forming again, collecting from the goop before dispersing into specs of red sand on equally spaced layers of planes that gridded the room, his torso standing in mid-air. He giggled liked a young girl with a battered voice box, still without cracking a smile, “I like this magic trick. I like it. I like it a lot.”
His dark eyes slowly followed a crack in the ground that lead to a mousehole in the wall. This time the composites of another creature became the new toy- a small rat scurried its way into the cold, wet dimness and exposed itself to the rough contours of the room. It squaked as red, black and grey danced from its forehead, slowly decomposing its body into colorful specs that dispersed and swirled around the room like snow in a snowglobe. The rat’s entire body laid sewn into the damp, thick air in a scatter of little red and grey clutters of specs ebbing away into whisps of crimson dust... then, there was only blood smoke.
“I like to play with waves and particles,” he said, “I like it. I like it a lot.”
Published 9th Aug 2012
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