Whose idea of Redemption is this?
(from
Prosthetic Amalgams)
We are in the hold of a ship or something like it that is constantly shifting, rocking. The wooden surface slopes downward such that we must constantly brace ourselves to keep from slipping into the foul sewer-like muck at the bottom. It is completely dark, no light, not even a twinkle. I reach to touch my eyes, to convince myself they are there. I have no idea how long I’ve been here. I have no memory of anything beyond a short while ago but the scabs and scars covering my body indicate some sort of healing, some sort of time that has passed. The darkness is impenetrable. My thirst overcomes me. I slide carefully towards the stench below. I reach out my hand to skim what liquid I can from the surface but strike a reed or stick emerging from it. I grasp the reed to pull it up, examine it, but it pulls back resisting my attempt. I then feel the flow of air in and out, in and out. I grasp it again and tug, but it will not give, it pulls back, unwilling to let go the air from above.
Kenny A. Chaffin – 1/17/2015
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TVLFTVE