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The Mutilator

I am the mutilator.

That’s what I saw.

This dream, where I’ve found myself in the middle of the endless white space. No horizon, no landscapes, no forms, no walls, just plain white space. Yeah, yeah, just like in the first Matrix movie, alright…. Just like that! I looked down and saw a clear milky white ground beneath my feet but I couldn’t feel the surface. My legs were numb and I wasn’t able to move much except for turning my head and raising my arms a bit. My eyes wouldn’t close because of complete lack of control over the muscular functions of my eyelids.

Strapped there like a prisoner.

I tried to scream but could not hear my own voice, only a high pitch noise came out and rang in my ears. Hanging there suspended, I seceded from the sense of time and my surroundings.

Out of nowhere the two giant arms appeared. Skin covering the fingers was dotted with boils, scar tissue and green ligaments were peeking out leading up to the shovel-like black fingernails. The arms were immense and one of them held a rusty crucifix that was faced down, with metal strings hanging from all four ends.

In a reeking, echoing voice the hands have introduced themselves as the owners of this world.

They’ve told me that they owned everything and made all the important decisions and that I’ve reached the proper time and age for my situation to be realized, that they’ve commanded my destiny and that I had to make a choice. They’ve told me all about it, sometimes mentioning the details that I was not ready to hear. The offer was to raise my hands, inner side facing outward, with veins exposed so that I could be hooked up to the crucifix through the metal strings. The moment the arms spoke, metal strings came alive and whirled in the air making the wall of noise as though a thousand bats were flying up in the sky trying to escape the daylight.

Color of the surroundings, at that point, might have gotten a shade darker.

Giant hands, swarms of black bats and decayed crucifix contrasted the white background so vividly through my retina I could sense the sharpness of the image. It was a strange feeling which seemingly lasted somewhere between a second and forever. Poised in circular motion the strings hung before my face in anticipation of the next move.

Arms continued their story.

As soon as I am connected to the crucifix, they’ll assume control of my body and my memory will be erased. The rest of my life will be taken care of. I will have a good job, a list of things to do and a list of rules to follow. I will never be hungry since there always will be money for food and room and board of various choices. My entry position will be the puppet at the beginner level but if I’ll be good enough, the promotion to top shelf puppet is possible and even a complete rehooking to a better, bigger crucifix.

An option certainly….

A bright light shone, burning the pupils and almost blinding me as they’ve mentioned the latter. Out of the vast nowhere a whole endless field of hands has appeared in front of me, saturating the white space. They’ve varied in shapes and sizes. The scary part was that I’ve recognized some of the people that were hooked up to other crucifixes. People I knew from a long ago and recent past. All were puppets on demand, looking alive and real, only just a little bit pale perhaps. Some of them were asleep, some half awake, others saw me and waved.

Have they recognized me as well? Should I wave back? Could I?

What the fuck is happening…..? You are thinking….. I thought the same thing at that exact moment.

Trying as hard as I could to close my eyes and pretend to not see what was happening, I tried to at least blink, but my eyelids would not move even a millimeter. Attempts to cover them with my hands did no good since the palms went clear every time and I could still see through them. The state of neither dying in nor leaving the moment.

A pendulous palpability.

Suddenly, the scenery has split in two. The white space moved to the back of me. Drilled to the spot and unable to move but my floppy airless, clear hands, I was now facing a pitch black darkness. It was pure nothing at first.

Blackness.

Blank obscurity.

Gradually, as the eyes got used to the murk, I began to distinguish silhouettes floating in the black space and shadows moving around. Their motion was slow and smooth. There was no need to strain just to catch a speck of an abrupt travel. None of them had faces and the clothes were very simple, clean tones with no labels whatsoever.

I could sense more and more with every second, as I stared into darkness, my ears filling up with whispers and stories. Pretty soon I was able to see images of memories before my eyes. Memorial murmur. They began to bleed from all the pictorial torrents that were passing by. I noticed that my ears were bleeding as well.

Gargantuan arms addressed me again.

They said that if I refuse to assume the role of the puppet, they’ll place me in the darkness and I’ll become one of the shadows. Silhouette lurking about in dusk, I will be left out on my own and most likely disappear, because that’s what darkness does, it absorbs and swallows. I was told that I will be mostly hungry without any guarantees of a meal and won’t have any place or time to sleep, and that I will have to fight anything the darkness will throw my way.

The tone of voice dropped really low as they’ve finished with the phrase:

“… you will be left to your own devices. There will be nobody to count on but yourself. Basically, you will be free from everything but your mind and consciousness.”

At once I could feel my legs, move my feet and blink, rubbing my eyes with my palms that were no longer clear but regular palms, I felt like myself again, although the clarity of mind was unusual and the only audible sound was the beating of my own heart. Thinking about crying at first I then changed my facial expression into a smirk. I got the message.

I knew what hands were talking about, giant clever mitts god damn them.

Not having enough knowledge of what one does, that was the point! So, the wisdom comes with experience over time or is it ingrained from the beginning and has to be discovered, dug up from within?

It seemed like I’ve been in this state for ages.

Looking over my shoulder at the white space with all the hands and their crucifixes,then back at darkness, the whole picture seemed pretty plain, rather it was distinct in approaches and angles that I could’ve used to have a signature take on the situation. I glanced all over once more then closed my eyes again as if to nod the moment and then the next moment and following moment away. It felt good to be able to do it again. I’ve pictured nothing but ice. Ice everywhere. A cold, chilling stillness of existence. Indifference, ignorance, unwillingness to change.

Change it all.

With peepers now open, I’ve viewed the entire being and felt nothing felt rather sad and sorry for the people hooked on those crucifixes, some of whom I loved. All fixed up and sucked in. It was over for them. As for me, I’ve felt the heat on my back. The light was shining from behind me where the darkness was supposed to be.

What the fuck once again?

But it was a formula-one-fleeting-flashing-by-kind-of-a-thought.

The ray was strong and burned like lava. It was as if the sun had decided to peek through to keep me warm then to toast. It nearly burned a hole through my body. Muscles tightened up, heartbeat sped up. I’ve started to sweat. My smirk has turned into a smile. Raising my hands in the air I watched as the metal strings started to stretch towards my veins. Just as they turned really sharp at the edges and were ready to pierce the flesh of my veins, like a sharp knife cutting through the butter, I pulled my arms down and away, turning them slightly inward. Out of nowhere tightly clamped fists came up with two middle fingers straight up. They rose like Christ himself and shone like the polished brass surface.

Two hot, sexy middle fingers.

My voice was loud and sinister for some reason:

“No. Not me. You can’t have me. Go fuck yourselves with your ways, I’ll create my own or disappear. That will be on me all the way. FUCK YOU! I AM THE MUTILATOR AND MUTILATED. ALL IN ONE. I’ll cut myself out of the landscape of the dim and become a separate part of it. It will be my mutilated FREEDOM. My mutilated LIFE. My mutilated DEATH. Never wanting to make a sound, I’ll scream with the music of silence. I’ll go beyond and between. I’ll become ONE. THE MUTILATED ONE. I am the mutilator. Fuck you………!!!”

Turning away from the clear white space, giant hands and crucifixes with people I knew and loved that were hooked to them, and with feral eyes that were no longer bleeding, I jumped head first into the darkness as swiftly as I could.

Then…….

I woke up.

It was daytime and I was at my job in the animal hospital doing dirty laundry, looking down on the piss stained cat beds and shit covered blankets. It took a few good seconds to realize where I was.

What the fuck actually did just happen?

WHAT WAS ALL THAT SHIT ABOUT AND WHAT WAS I MUTILATING THERE OR WAS IT HERE?

Have I dozed off at work standing up before the washing machine?

All that’s left was a tiny drop of sweat rolling down my back. For a brief moment I thought there were all those whispers still in my ears like a surfer gliding through the tube of the breaking wave, but I wasn’t sure. The thing was that some motion needed to be applied before my feet fell completely asleep. I moved my body like something that has a tail for the body, possibly even slithered with that snake walk Axl Rose used to do, towards the washer and started to stuff the next load in.

Working day was ending.

It was time to go. 

Recommend0 Simily SnapsPublished in Adventure, Drama, Faith, Fantasy, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Horror, Humor, Sci Fi

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