Jason V Brock

Red-Wat-Shod

“What do you see?”
“Well... she’s walking toward me... slightly out of focus, with these visual trails, like bad video... she’s –- gliding, in slow motion; sort of drifting... back and forth –like she’s hovering off the ground...”
“Is she?”
“I don’t know; I’m strapped to the bed. I can hardly see anything –- feels like I’m strapped down at the forehead; My eyes strain in the dark–-”
“What else is happening?”
“She -– she moves very -– erratically -– I intuit more than see how she moves, if that makes any sense... it’s like a video tape on fast forward: darting left, then right, then behind my bed, all crackly... it’s like she’s in more than one place at a time–-”
“What’s she wearing?”
“Hmmm... She’s in like a--a long gauzy cloak thing with a hood, but her body underneath is naked; she’s voluptuous: curvy hips; tiny waist; big, bouncy breasts; flat stomach; her pubic hair is neatly trimmed... where her skin appears, though, it’s raw and... fluoresces: she’s –- she’s torn up... ghastly bones pushing through the pulp. The room we’re in is long and narrow, like an MRI tube almost, and there are – how would I describe it? Kind of – flashes: very intense red and green periodically cutting through the gloom, like strobes or something...”
“Is there more?”
“Yeah: her body seems to emit this sickly yellow aura; there’s also this dim light bathing the place, like blacklight; her face is fuzzy, indistinct, but her eyes -– her eyes are quick and black, like a shark’s...”
“What happens then?”
“Except for the weird jumpiness, her other movements are so slow, ponderous... I can feel the blood rise in my face –- my heart’s pounding so hard: I’m just hoping it won’t beat a hole through me... then, there’s this -– this heavy whooshing in my ears, right when the temperature drops–-”
“Does this woman ever speak?”
“No, never. There’s no other sound; in fact it’s utterly quiet, like a vacuum, except for the whooshing... I try to scream, to cry out, but my mouth won’t open; it feels like I’m paralyzed... I can’t even blink, I just move my eyes...”
“Is she alone?”
“Yes: at first. After a while, she’s at the foot of the bed, or whatever I’m strapped onto. Slowly, she crawls up my body, so jerky, so out of focus... The room starts rotating, and it makes me feel sick... the strobes sync to my heartbeat –- then, way, way off, there’s a pounding noise...”
“What is it?”
“I--I don’t know... suddenly she’s kneeling on my chest, her breath dirty, like decay... Then, he appears at the far end of the tube we’re in...”
“’He’ who?”
“The guy that I sold the lighter to.”
“The one that you’re upset about?”
“Yeah -– I...”
“Go on, tell me about it.”
“But I’ve already-–”
“Tell me again.”
“He just –- just appears –- I don’t know how; maybe he walked in or ‘materialized’ or whatever. She’s on my chest –- it’s hard to breathe –- and her face is like three inches from mine, but she’s still out of focus, and the room’s spinning, and –- and -–”
“Yes?”
“And I’m scared. I can’t move, remember? I’m tied down, and that pounding is getting closer and closer. The guy keeps walking toward us... He has the weirdest look on his face, like he’s smiling and at peace; resolute...”
“Keep going: that’s not all...”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“I’m not doing anything – you said that you wanted to do this for the record-–”
“I know, I know... it’s just tough; very tough... Okay, so, anyway, he walks up to us, and he says: ‘I need a book of matches, please’. So... so I tell him that I only have lighters, and he buys one; I can’t remember how I communicated this, ‘cause I still couldn’t speak...”
“And then?”
“He thanks me, then slowly walks away.”
“No... no, you left something out-–”
“Please don’t make me say it... I think I’m gonna faint-–”
“Say it! I have to hear you say it for the record. You started this anyway; you think I’m enjoying this?”
“Okay! Okay, so I sold him the lighter... I--I didn’t see that he had the gas can... as he’s walking out of the room, he pours the gasoline all over himself; just dumps it onto his head. It makes him gag; he yelps when it hits his eyes... he’s gasping and sputtering -- then he lights the lighter...”
“What happened then?”
“He--he still has that strange flat half-smile, just before he goes up... The fumes ignite and he’s almost instantly engulfed in this intense fireball... All the while, she’s still sitting on my chest. The gasoline smell is overwhelming. My heart is just flying, then I smell this – this sweet kind of smell... it’s -- it’s his skin...”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s-- it’s his skin burning. If -- if you’ve ever smelled human flesh burning, you never forget it... It’s like burnt sugar and tar. And the sound... it pops like popcorn, or water across a griddle... I can see him just out of the corner of my eye: he’s slowly melting -– sort of in slow motion, like in outer space or something. I see the flames wrap around him... little fiery tongues lick across his face and clothing. His hair is sizzling like a nimbus of cinders; his fat is frying, bubbling...”
“What is she doing?”
“I can feel the burn of the heat on my skin. She’s just staring at me, her face orange with the fire’s illumination. My eyes are drying out, and her breath is foul, but the heat, the oily smoke, his stench and the sound of his skin searing is breathtaking...”
“Then?”
“You know, he never once screamed or lost that creepy expression: that grin and the million-mile stare... then, finally, his skull appeared under his face -- his flesh just drifted away on the breeze from his personal inferno...”
“Is there anything else?”
“Yes: she leans over to my ear and she says something... I can’t quite make it out-–”
“You can’t hear her?”
“No –- I hear her, just barely, but I hear her... No, it’s like she’s speaking some foreign language. The room is still spinning: it gets faster. My breath is shallow: I’m trying not to breathe -– him -- into my lungs... the smells, the noise... the strobes are making my head ache; all the time there’s… the intense glow flickering from his immolation...”
“Go on: you’re almost finished...”
“She whispers in my ear again, thrusting her tongue in there. My heart is still pounding, pounding; then it suddenly gets dark -– pitch black. My heart slows... slower... slower...  then, in oblivio...”