Kasey Jordan
02-04-2013, 09:56 PM
I figured I'd post one more story I had a strange sort of lucid dream about last night. Creepy and bizzarre, I know...
This is the ridiculousness that my mind wakes me up from 3 hours of sleep to write. Incomplete...
The Babe of Turpentine
There stood a babe, in a sky of painful bright white. A pleasant sight, and endearing as children are. His hair was a mess of lovely, thin red locks, cascading down around ruddy and full cheeks that were beset with deep dimples. Blue eyes that shimmered with youth and vitality, yet that were set with a certain boyish deviance, danced about from behind thin lids and thick lashes. His demeanor seemed candidly jovial; indeed, rife with curiosity and inquisitiveness.
About his body he wore a thick, crème robe. Not a robe as children wear, but one of a more stately status. Its material was soft and luxurious, perhaps made of the fur of a type of fox, or some other mammal. There was a large and full hood that bunched up behind the babes head, giving an even more silhouetted and youthful appearance to his face. He smelled as children smell; like lavender and powder, yet with no hint of bodily function. And there was also a subtle scent of something caustic and unnerving, reminiscent of sulfur, which was alight on the air.
And so the Babe of Turpentine stood, with feet unseen and covered by the robe of crème. Yet he stood aloft in the air, above a sea! There seemed to be some structure to the invisible floor, though, for his robe cascaded down and fell out behind him at a parallel with the sea. The eye could catch no glimpse of foundation or solidarity, however, simply that its presence was known. In the babe’s hand he held a scepter of gold with the head of a gem, completing a rather ridiculous attire for a child. The sea roiled beneath him, but most unnerving of all was its contents; blood. In swirling eddies and unnatural vortices culminated a sea of dark and nauseating blood. And for how far? And what were the depths of this terrible body?
One could only ponder briefly as another figure appeared into the white void above the waters. What, if not, a gazelle was there! One not of any human sort; there was no anthropomorphism in its manner. It was simply a calm, demure, and graceful gazelle, with wonderful horns of black and a coat with a splendid shine. Yet there was a cunning about his dark eyes, as if a deep and magnanimous wisdom were locked inside. He was a beautiful creature, taking up stance beside the babe.
So there the two stood, a bizarre display of purity and innocence over an innocuous monstrosity. The babe with his joy, the gazelle with his cunning, they both seemed oblivious to what lay beneath them. And as they stood in some unreal, picturesque form, bubbles began to emerge from the liquid cesspool beneath. One by one they began to rise and float upward, disgusting pools settling in the bottoms of each sphere until at last they popped. All around the globes formed; small and large. Some began to burst over the babe’s robes, tinging its soft white surface with crimson. Yet still the babe stood quiet and without menace; although his jovial demeanor now seemed maniacal given his macabre environment. A strange dichotomy it was; what once seemed precious now somehow seemed terrible, though in no way had the Babe of Turpentine changed his visage.
(As a final note, might I add that I have become aware of perhaps long and rambling sentences which I am prone to, and a flinging of unnecessary vocabulary. Were I to pursue this piece I'd try to cut down on some of that. I feel I've done a little better however! I post stories like this as thought provokers as well as to receive critique. Sometimes something chaotic and abstract can spark idea's in other writers they haven't had!)
This is the ridiculousness that my mind wakes me up from 3 hours of sleep to write. Incomplete...
The Babe of Turpentine
There stood a babe, in a sky of painful bright white. A pleasant sight, and endearing as children are. His hair was a mess of lovely, thin red locks, cascading down around ruddy and full cheeks that were beset with deep dimples. Blue eyes that shimmered with youth and vitality, yet that were set with a certain boyish deviance, danced about from behind thin lids and thick lashes. His demeanor seemed candidly jovial; indeed, rife with curiosity and inquisitiveness.
About his body he wore a thick, crème robe. Not a robe as children wear, but one of a more stately status. Its material was soft and luxurious, perhaps made of the fur of a type of fox, or some other mammal. There was a large and full hood that bunched up behind the babes head, giving an even more silhouetted and youthful appearance to his face. He smelled as children smell; like lavender and powder, yet with no hint of bodily function. And there was also a subtle scent of something caustic and unnerving, reminiscent of sulfur, which was alight on the air.
And so the Babe of Turpentine stood, with feet unseen and covered by the robe of crème. Yet he stood aloft in the air, above a sea! There seemed to be some structure to the invisible floor, though, for his robe cascaded down and fell out behind him at a parallel with the sea. The eye could catch no glimpse of foundation or solidarity, however, simply that its presence was known. In the babe’s hand he held a scepter of gold with the head of a gem, completing a rather ridiculous attire for a child. The sea roiled beneath him, but most unnerving of all was its contents; blood. In swirling eddies and unnatural vortices culminated a sea of dark and nauseating blood. And for how far? And what were the depths of this terrible body?
One could only ponder briefly as another figure appeared into the white void above the waters. What, if not, a gazelle was there! One not of any human sort; there was no anthropomorphism in its manner. It was simply a calm, demure, and graceful gazelle, with wonderful horns of black and a coat with a splendid shine. Yet there was a cunning about his dark eyes, as if a deep and magnanimous wisdom were locked inside. He was a beautiful creature, taking up stance beside the babe.
So there the two stood, a bizarre display of purity and innocence over an innocuous monstrosity. The babe with his joy, the gazelle with his cunning, they both seemed oblivious to what lay beneath them. And as they stood in some unreal, picturesque form, bubbles began to emerge from the liquid cesspool beneath. One by one they began to rise and float upward, disgusting pools settling in the bottoms of each sphere until at last they popped. All around the globes formed; small and large. Some began to burst over the babe’s robes, tinging its soft white surface with crimson. Yet still the babe stood quiet and without menace; although his jovial demeanor now seemed maniacal given his macabre environment. A strange dichotomy it was; what once seemed precious now somehow seemed terrible, though in no way had the Babe of Turpentine changed his visage.
(As a final note, might I add that I have become aware of perhaps long and rambling sentences which I am prone to, and a flinging of unnecessary vocabulary. Were I to pursue this piece I'd try to cut down on some of that. I feel I've done a little better however! I post stories like this as thought provokers as well as to receive critique. Sometimes something chaotic and abstract can spark idea's in other writers they haven't had!)