October 3, 2012

(Well, this is my final post as a single entity. I get married this Saturday. I’m not sure what that means for my creative identity. Maybe nothing. In actual writing news, because first and foremost, I am a writer, I am this close to being done with my novel. It’s at 28,000 words and I’m hoping for it to be around 40,000. So 6,000 words today and another 6,000 tomorrow? My fingers are going to hate me.)




…..but maybe instead of rushing away from the radiator, the little girl puts on a blue dress and crawls into the tight spaces between the metal. [lead me. i will follow,] the little girl says. she bares her teeth and grimaces as gossamer metal falls onto her face. she spits mercury out but her teeth turn bright silver. [i should play with you,] the little girl says. her stomach thumps against her chest and she moans softly. a pipe sweeps over her face and she opens her mouth to suck the metal in. her tongue twists back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, then drops out of her mouth. the tongue flops on the floor. [how sad,] the little girl whispers. [my tongue fell out. oh well. i can’t put it back in because that meat touched the floor and is dirty.] so she kicks the tongue away. she smacks her foot against the meat and aims towards a dark corner several feet away. the meat smacks the corner and drops into a small chasm between the floor and wall. [now i will never see that dirty tongue again,] the little girl says. she shrugs and skips down the radiator hallway, pipes opening into human-sized tubes, several with mouths so wide, she can easily fit through. maybe the pipe tunnels will lead the little girl to a land of red roses and white water. maybe the little girl will pop her head into an island made of rainbow crystals. or maybe, she will stumble into a dark room lined with body parts and a floor flooded with gelatinous blood products. the little girl prefers to think of roses and rainbows but knows that most likely, the tunnel will stop suddenly and she will drop into a butcher’s shop. maybe that will be the end of her body parts. or maybe someone will be kind enough to offer her a knife. little girl’s should get to do some cutting, provided they have stomachs thick enough to handle the bile. [you will give me a knife,] she shouts to the radiator walls. she shudders slightly and skips on, her tiptoes hitting the floor and pushing her into the air. she bounces along the pipeline hallway. [look at me,] she yells. [i’m a little girl made of helium and rubber. look how high i bounce. no one can touch me. i bounce so much, i can fly. but not by flapping my arms. no. i have to move my mouth around. then i can fly. chitter, chatter. chitter, chatter. watch me fly.] she flicks her lips around. she wishes she still had her tongue to fling but she can’t have everything she wants. so a lip has to work in the absence of a tongue. the little girl collapses against the ground and the pipe eases over her stomach, pushing it into her spine. [are you sick,] the pipe creaks. [have you gone ill? poor little girl. what shall i do with you? shall i eat you up? shall i huff and puff and knock your head off? or shall i just stick you to the walls and use you like putty? that would be fun. i like to ruin little girls who climb into my pipes.] the radiator rumbles, knocking the little girl to the side. she opens her mouth wide and radiator fluid fills her throat. the little girl chokes and chokes. the little girl tosses her head and regurgitates over her chest, turning her bright blue dress a dark green. [oh, how sad,] the radiator hisses. [how sad. i think it should be warm tonight. yes. it should be nice and warm. don’t you agree? don’t you think we should find the warmth in the pipes?] the radiator grows hot. boiling water rushes through the pipes, heating the metal from the inside out. [i’m cooking,] the little girl yelps. [i’m cooking from the outside in. i don’t like this. i think my skin hurts.] she presses a finger to her red arms and the skin dimples with blisters and cysts. [oh yes. i am cooking,] the little girl says.] steam streams out of her eyes. the radiator puckers. the radiator rocks. the radiator hits the little girl across her forehead and knocks her out. the little girl grits her teeth. she grinds her molars together. [this is it,] the little girl whispers. [i am entering the caterpillar lands. i am finding the mushroom stock. i am lost in the toothed vines. look at my fags rise and rise and rise.] but what does the little girl know? she knows she will not get out of the radiator. she knows she should never have climbed into the radiator. she knows the radiator is a terrible snake winding around her body. she knows she is sick with metal and pipes and hot water and radiators. she knows she is smothered by radiators. because she is a little girl who couldn’t back away from the radiator. because she didn’t know to run away when the radiator started roaring. because she decided to touch a tongue to the heat and strips of meat dropped out of her mouth, dirtying the ground. so the radiator eats her up. yum, yum, yum. chop, chop, chop. she is just a little girl, trapped in the metal gut, eyes rolling and lips whispering, [i should not have climbed inside. i should not have gotten lost. i should not have touched the radiator. i should not have reached into the spaces. i should not have climbed inside. i should not have gotten lost. i should not have touched the radiator. i should not have reached into the spaces. i should not, i should not, i should not…]

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