'I think therefore I am.'  Descartes            'I AM THAT I AM.'  Exodus.3.        'I am what I am.'  La Cage aux Folles

09 June 2013

The Cyclops

On the evening of the fourteenth day he lay shivering and naked in his sealed room with only the unstable light of a single candle revealing the unwanted existence of the world about him. Foetal-like he sought security, wrapped in his moist bedclothes. He lay on his back. He lay on his stomach. He ground his groin into a pillow. He stretched his thigh along a mattress not quite covered by a torn sheet. Tears flowed through his lashes and droplets of fluid seeped pearl-like from the tip of his untouched, exploding and alien erection. The blood drained from the enemy and in the mirror of a half open cupboard door, he set his eyes upon that part of him that had nowhere to go; his friendless friend. The cyclops stared back uncaring. The eye would not shift its gaze as the shrivelled armour shrunk and expanded over and over again oblivious to the face contemplating its unfolding ugliness. Folds shrivelled and moved as it roamed through the forbidden forest, foraging for satisfaction like a mucous covered snail in search of a shell within which to hide. Thoughts of long past satisfaction strengthened its resolve to seek, but realisation of futility stilled the glistening point of its observation. Hatred for the monster sullied his brain. Yearning for renewed friendship pained his muscles. The arrogance of the challenge before him frightened the boy, as beyond his powers the foreign assault stood to confront the pathetic state of his securities. In an attempt to stare it into submission he summoned up visions of wasted potential to throw in its face, but still it faced him with determined vengeance. Against his will, the untouchable spectacle stood its ground in challenge to the weakness exposed. Primordial reserves were brought into play as his pores opened in a final attempt to pour control over the situation and sweat oozed into the field of battle. Monster faced monster; demons all, until with a primal cry he clasped it with his hands and throttled the enemy until from the crimson eye burst the white shreds of submission. Falling asleep with the lifeblood of the monster setting like flaked serpent’s skin across his stomach, the boy dreamed of hell. From the inferno he sought an escape for himself and his friend the monster.

A small paragraph from my unpublished novel 'Dance With The Sun'. It follows the death of his lover. I have an idea that it could be turned into a stylish short film. The whole book is on a link to the right. 
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