Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

It takes me a few minutes to realize that I am casting a line of bright
green energy straight out at her heart. What the hell am I doing? Next
thing I know, it’s running both ways. Certainly, she isn’t aware of it—but
I’ll be damned if this isn’t happening on its own. I see a spider web of
these interlocking beams, running in both directions. Then, just as suddenly,
it stops. There is incense burning, desperately competing with the
soap smelling smoke machines. A woman behind me coughs loudly and I
can feel the breath and flecks of spittle on the back of my neck.
Stop face shifting! Mummy? She will not fly. Shut up, will you! You
feel it in your chest, that pulling tugging. Call it whatever you want. It’s
real. She will put it there where the breath cannot go where the air cannot
carry it through her break it up she is afraid to absorb it she is afraid if
she keeps it she will break she will become it will become her (she will
become Her.)
“My love,” Agent mouthed mournfully. Alexi sat in the mental hospital,
surrounded by unforgiving white walls. “I miss her…”
Two men dressed all in black, their gender only apparent because of
their broad shoulders, beckon to me slowly from the center of the room.
A blue circle of light vaguely reveals glints of bodies, writhing impossibly
slowly to Arabian music, all thick and syrupy. The men approach,
seemingly gliding across the floor. I felt stricken, still gazing up at the
nude gold girl, dangling from the trapeze above me.
The men usher me into the center of the room, into the halo of light.
The women gyrated all around now, forming a complete circle. It is time.
DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THAT THING?!
A few months ago. There were half empty bottles of alcohol. A
woman—barely a woman—was sitting across from him. It didn’t look
like she was wearing anything, but it was all so blurry anyway… I know
I shouldn’t, he thought, but…but I noticed that as the light got fainter
and fainter she got hotter and hotter. We pay our debts sometimes. And
we get the abuse we think we deserve. Look: she’s running around in a
circle, screaming “Look at me! Look at me, mommy!” Johny’s bee trip.
A letter to the department of insecurity: If you see Atlas, tell him he can
have his stinking rock back. I fear that if this condition lasts too long, I
will abandon all of this mess I have created in favor of the Real world,
and a Real job, and a Real marriage. Not good. I don’t want to quit this
early in the game, but things seem grim. I just want to remember what
it feels like to breathe.
189