Symbiont to parasite


The fog was settling once more at the riverside, punctuated by lofty incandescence, lending it the image of an eerie suspended ocean, lazy and sickly on its own ego.

One step in and we were wading though the insidious miasma. Sound and light suffocated. Our senses heightened and dampened all at once leaving a clammy residue on our minds.

You asked if I could see the moon and I lied. The hungry eels writhing in the mist around my calves would have heard.

The poisonous water is rising from the condensed fog, and my heels are snagging on carnivorous weeds, begging in their hunger for one of us to damn well drown.

You waited patiently for me to take your hand once again.

I hesitated.

You would have had me on my knees if I looked the other way. Held me down while I swallowed those adventitious eels. Choking me on betrayal and loss and the knowledge of my weakness.

But I didn’t look away.

I should have gone there to bury you, melt your remnants into the ether, but I was too afraid of what might mutate from your grave even in the half light, if I left you for dead. Although your corrupted frame makes light of such fericiousness, I still rember what you once were. A hideous part of me, eager for suicide or sororicide or whatever the hell you’d call the death of a symbiont turned parasite.

One day I’m going to sever this umbilicus while you sleep, but for now let’s just hope no-one turns off the streetlight or we’ll both just disappear.
(c) Accidental Tentacles 2016


“stay with me”
The words ripple, soothingly; dripping with soporific ambition. Mesmeric wave upon wave of verbal kisses on the forehead. That placid voice, synonymous in my psyche with protection, rising godlike in its ever-abounding professions. Awed and humbled, I relax back momentarily into the welcoming embrace of familiarity, letting habitual trances snake their way through repetition of gently undulating thoughts.
“just stay with me”
The timbre of that voice weaves a great net of protection to cradle me, and guide me gently and safely back here, like I’m something precious and fragile, like maybe I’m something worth saving. The silvery liquid of those words from above have buried me so deep, and in this viscous womb, clensed all curiosity from me. My thickened lungs have forgotten how to breathe in the waking world. And yet, and yet, this eternal slumber is both the prize and the price of keeping me safe, and for that I am endebted. It no longer matters how we got here, does it?
Other voices float on past, tethered to driftwood, rippling the mirrored surface above me. Tenuously stirring something gruesome that’s slumbering in my mind. Nothing issuing from those chaotic mouths could hope to drag me from this ocean floor. Nothing out there could scratch the surface of an insular existence so wholesome.
“pay no mind what other voices say”
A mere twitch of the eyelash before I’m settling once again into the rich silt of our haven. I’ve been saved for so long from the “poison devils” of truth, choice and pain, but even so the cycles of sleep bear me periodically towards the surface. That dangerous sedated creature inside my mind, suddenly thirsting to drink in the air of consciousness, I hear the voice again.
“pay no mind to the rabble ”
I’ve been floating here so long, treading water, ignorant and safe, that temptation to entrust threatens to overwhelm. Like Ophelias last moments, I watch the surface undulate before my eyes. It’s not voices that pull at me now, as for the first time, they blur and merge onto a cacophony of torrents, nothing but counterpoint to some new strange sensation. As my fingers lazily skim the surface, I feel a shuddering chill of fear as the spell is broken; the billowing dread of the unknown floods in. It’s like I’m wide awake and drowning in those words, so recently pacifying. The searing pain of wrenching my psyche inside-out from the other world almost has me back at those feet, begging forgiveness, but this time, maybe this time, I could learn to swim.

Precious. I know how you only tried.
But you can’t save me from myself.

This was a techical exercise I set myself; drawing out the lyrics of a song into a descriptive short story. Of sorts. I mean, I’ve more or less got the descriptive bit down but teasing it out into a coherent story…that’s going to take practise!

Here’s the song in case you don’t know it.

Living room mask

I made my first stopped motion video and played a couple of notes on the violin. It probably sucks big time but it was fun to make! I call this creation “living room mask” on account of it being a mask in my living room.

Lesson 1 was, you cannot hope to make a stopped motion film without a tripod (thanks amazon!) Good grief! What will I turn my hand to next?