“It was thick, black, and spoke as one. It seethed through a small c***k which one could hardly tell of its origin.
it whirled upon contact and had this ability to stimulate your thoughts, it floods your mind latches on to your essence and tickled you in funny places till you give up on your willpower— every desire you ever had, thoughts, epiphany, comes as a premonition
You’d dream, you’d experience everything at once, love, hatred, anger, pain, pleasure, death, dying, disgust, sadness.
you’d feel warm, and happy.
But that’s the moment it takes over, after that thick darkness. No one can save you after this. No one! “
Juan.
The complexities of human biology is, above all, the most lenient endeavour of its creator.
It is so simple yet—awry, flawed, and in the grand scheme of things painfully fungible
That morning, I stared at the man in the mirror, more or less a shadow of his former self, the mirror was foggy, marred and dusty with breaths, I had grown thinner, my once bright eyes had grown dull sinking straight into my socket.
And for Goodness sake I exuded the kind of stench that could kill a yak—and it won’t go away.
it didn’t take long for me to place together what was happening
puberty!
But then, does it really explain this strange feeling like I’m a foreigner in my own skin?
it was almost as if death had come for me.
First was the gut wrenching smell of decaying flesh roughly 3 blocks away;
it had pierced the morning air with vigour, the kind to singed all hairs in your nostrils.
Then of course, the thumping sound of heartbeats thundering around, some, incalculably fast, others temperate and rhythmic, all immeasurably unified to make you regret why you were born!
These were little particles of information dispersed at all times all at once— absorbed under necessary conditions, but for me it was absorbed instantly.
Car honking at far distance, babies crying, women chattering, bird chirping, food decaying, dead bodies underground—perhaps even your most intimate thoughts
I could hear them— all of em’
I could feel my brain swarming with maggots, each bulge crackling against my skull, scraping it, keeping my instincts sharp,
As to when it started?! Oh, 3 months ago.
First was the exhilarating surge of adrenaline gusting through me at every instance of expression, then was the athletic push,
my sense of perception grew vivid, I could feel my muscle fibres constricting, tenders becoming denser for mobility, I was an absolute unit
But what really broke the camel’s back was the moment I dislodged an 18 wheeler from the ground with ease.
Aye! Just kidding.
But life has been different so far. I took a few steps away from the mirror, I appeared wasted, it was visible, even against my lion-sized appetite there was truly no evidence of a healthy bone in me.
my ribs had jarred out like daggers each uniformly piercing the surface of my skin, I had grown darker…
My appearance was beggared, a reflection of a dying man in his youth, yet I could fight a bull
And I’m confident I’d win.
Omg do I have aids?! Is this what cancer feels like?
For someone with a strong sense of perception it was implausibly difficult to place a finger on the cause of my condition. Perhaps seeking professional help won’t hurt.
I strolled out of the room with my Jacket slung over my shoulder, feeling lethargic. The worst part of being a human is the fact that, for some reason school was an essentiality, you’d have to do it everyday of your life—till you drop dead.
And with what I was up against, I couldn’t help but long for a quick arrival at the “death part”
Each step I took, I felt heavy against the floor board almost as if I was treading through quicksand.
The very thought of sitting for hours in those suffocating classrooms made my stomach curl, but such was a pregnant reality destined to deliver.
I flung open the door and moved out, grabbed my bike and pierced the air with the deafening reeve of its engine and so to speak of the morning sky with dark smoke.
Calderdale was at a relative distance from where I base but who wouldn’t want to make an entrance especially when riding a Harley-Davidson! So yeah, sure!
As I trudged along the school passage, the floor seemed to groan upon every step I took—this was new.
The class hall had lined up detailing an endless toll of torture. It was like a hallway to hell, the smell of books—paper, timber, fibre, was everywhere!, people scurrying from one place to another, a sight for an eye sore, a sight of youthfulness dying and by virtue of providence I was forced to bear witness to it.
I strolled through, widely irritated, I could feel my flesh rubbing against by bones, and yet I pushed on, piloted by an unhealthy curiosity to see what new torment this mechanisation of death had in-store for me.—so Masochist and brave of me,
I had this delightful feeling— a minute tendril of hope that today might be different, that something profound would shatter this ill-fated cycle
But deep down I knew better. The choke-hold of this classroom was something I couldn’t escape, a bleating reminder that my fate was sealed in stone—at least for now.
So I briefed myself for the long haul, saving my breath for the tedium that swore to consume me.
I swung the door wide open, and the endless descending rows of seats neatly placed adjacent to one another stretched out before me, at the far right a podium stood in front. It was 11:45—class was in session, and every eye was on me.
I could hear a million heartbeats, all playing in accord like a makeshift orchestrate hurriedly engineered for convenience. It was disturbing, their multifarious nature, it was—in its broadest spectrum, so insignificant.
“Mr. Juan Hunt, I presume. late as always!”