by Seamus Leo
Contest Paragraphs for Clive Barker's Oddessy. Surealism & occult fantasy! Yeah!
|The rash itself did not burn, nor itch or penetrated the skin. The rash sat and moved around on the exterior surface of the skin until if found the proper resting point the lower abdomen. From there the rash began to expand around Paul’s paste white body and covered him like the black plague. Postulant sores began to appear as if he too was struck by some medieval black death. Paul’s hair began to fall out in several clumps at his feet, and then scrambled by themselves back to his body and became a part of the rash.
Paul’s teeth and fingernails fell out as the soars affected his teeth his gums his tissue. Paul scrambled to see his reflection, ran to the Subway window for a mirror, a faint reflection but by then, the eye pupils were pushing soars outward blinding his vision. Paul screamed and moaned but the soars now on his lips grew so large that they bound his lips inward and the skin from his angel’s kiss and dimpled chin attached to each other and became one. His eyes now bursting replacing themselves with a black cellulose substance and two stumps began to grow from his left and right side of the frontal lobe portions of his skull.
He crouched to the floor clutching the steel pegs made for grip of the shoe; put fell weak from exhaustion and lack of air. The alien vomit now incubating his organs his bone marrow his overall appearance. But it was not an expansion of tissue like the Incredible Hulk or some Doctor Jekyll change. The process was closer to that of a fatal disease that would be unleashed by a Middle-Eastern terrorist. The two horns now twisting and forming and Ares like shape symmetrical, shedding and pulsating, ever growing upward then twisting around in a perfect spiral. Paul’s feet began to change, into hooves breaking through his shoes and socks, his legs shrinking in thickness, bursting and calibrating in to stronger walking limbs, his muscles now hard rippling through the fat which is being burned at a rapid rate. New hair of a silver grey began to form out of his skull and grew to great lengths, his spinal vertebrates popping and spiking through the skin, reconstructing his back into a strange exterior armor of bone.
His clothes now burned off his torso, his brain began to function with a heightened sense of activity, and his ears grew into the pointed elven ones, as his skin began change color to a very stark white. Paul began to rationalize, “what have I done to become this,” he said. “What mark of man has cursed me?”
In logical terms, there was no sense, no reason for his creation into this new form. The Alien needed a host quickly, the vomit needed food.
Cross the field on the train passing by, no one was watching the transformation, not a single soul could her Paul. Paul began to think clear and asked as he took notice of his new identity,
“Is it so wrong to look like the devil, a ram, a demon,” stroking his new white chin beard,.“
“Is it so wrong to snort and have hooves or cloven feet?”
Rationally he questioned,
“But I am human, I am loosing purpose, timing, identity being infected by this this shit.”
“ I will be looked at as an outcast, a freak, and nowhere to hide.”
As the new formation of Paul’s body took hold, a revelation two tattoos or scars began to grow on the two ends of his shoulder blades, large round holes, two perfect circles appeared and were the color of black with crimson red halos around them. These new marks bound him, revealed to him telepathically, and reminded Paul to what the virus infected him once was, and ethereal monstrosity that once could fly.
Paul then began to radiate a strange cool aura about him.
The aura was a pale yellow that flickered to a neutral blue. He felt cold as ice but his skin burned to touch, “What the hell am I, and I have no use to speak anymore, I have no mouth, I breathe threw my nostrils, I speak through my eyes, and see the world only visualized in my mind, and yet I hear with such accuracy but not the sounds of the world nor the voices of animals or man, I listen to the beats of their hearts, I hear their thoughts as they meditate and create them, I see their dreams their nightmares, and yet I cannot speak to them, and yet the voice I here is only mine, why does the vomit keep saying “You are a gift to me, and I am a gift to you” Let the change happen, you will not regret it once fully realized.”
Then nothing, Paul listens and hears and see nothing, accept the reflection of the world in his mind through the mirrors of his now black angelic eyes. “Describe to me my full appearance,” he anxiously screams,” Describe!”