Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Short Story:

The Moon Snake

A Dream is a Contradiction

John George was asleep in front of the television and you can imagine what he looks like because he is not a real person, I made him up.  He was not alerted by the loud crashing of an automobile on the television screen in front of him.  When he almost started to drool, but didn't, his head tipped to the right causing his lower body to shift on the armchair (that propped him at an upright angle that appeared uncomfortable) placing pressure on the television remote that caused flashing images broadcast from all separate dimensions of men yelling profanities, red grapes and giraffes.
Machine guns and another car crash. 
Then static.
There was an empty bottle of vodka sitting on top of the black television.
This is what you need to know about John George, he was twenty-five years old and had brown hair.
He had a father named Luke George.
He was the oldest of three named, Stephanie and Medina, they were twins, also with George at the end.
Think about a butterfly pollinating a flower—picture that idea in your mind.
Then real quickly imagine some boobs, a knife, a gun, a gun, more guns, then a vampire, and static again.
  John George was about to wake up and he was still thinking about an image of a Buffalo he had seen hours before.  He didn't know if he was awake or dreaming, wasn't considering this, he didn't have the choice to consider it.
  He was dreaming.
  In this dream he wasn't aware of what a dream was and what it means to be awake.  He had a grandfather, he was dead.  He murdered his grandfather years ago, caused him to get cancer.
  He had a mother, she was saying,
  Her name was Lucy.  John used to have an uncle named George Thomas, he was dead too.  He was not Thomas George.  George Thomas was believed to have killed several people including himself in a town miles away.  
  The Georges had no propensity for violence.
"What?" John said, as his mother also mumbled, "what?"  John could imagine the peaceful life that Buffalo had lived on an open plain, before a bandit came and shot him.  He was instinctively slinking off the couch seeking the remote that would bring silence in preparation for sleep and departure.
  He was ready for sleep and weary of the effort to prepare for it.
  It was midnight.
The crescent moon reflected on a midnight pond and as a dark blue ripple glided over the surface it grew a little silver tail that slivered like a, 
It shone brightly in your eyes.
  It crept out of the pond.
  You weren't there but you were,
watching this.

  There were deep prehistoric sounds that didn't matter, low music, a moment of days passed in seconds.  There was heat when this reflection crept across cool, morning grass, deep lunar-blue grass and green dew—those strange sounds—the refraction of its white tail under a crescent head in the (deep blue) night into arms, legs.  There were stars, each drop of dew a glowing star—eyessounds.  
  The belly of the snake lifted from the ground, walked, and grew dull.
This wasn't light anymore it was white fur that shivered, glowing fur consubstantial with midnight blades of foliage as it moved—stalked—hunting in low undergrowth.  It was white with spacial underglow refracted from that dead rock in the sky.  It was whole. 


  This is what a moon snake looks like, the body of a fat snake with little fins and the head of a kitten with black eyes and tiny ears and faint grey stripes on its back.  It slithers on its belly and can crawl up a wall like an inchworm using invisible suckers under the fur near its finpits.  It prefers to perch high on the wall and never makes any sounds.  The moonsnake always slithers with its head up.  It likes to swim and never sleeps, blinks or eats anything.  It always seems to be purring although it doesn't make any noise.  When the moonsnake was in the mood, and typically, it could turn into a regular cat and I do not feel that it is critical that I explain how this is possible.  When it is a cat, it has to eat, sleep and do all of the things that regular cats do, but it still never blinks, at least I've never seen this.  When it is a cat, it can't climb up a wall like a caterpillar or purr without making any purring noises.  
-Alan Michael

No comments: