May 15, 2015

“There was nothing on the other side of the red door. There was only a flight of stairs. The stairs were made of solid metal enmeshed with meat. The metal was not real. The metal looked metal enough but the MEAT PLACE was based on trickery. What was metal, might not be metal at all. What was meat was always meat. Meat was the only guarantee. I leaned against the red door, not wanting to walk down the stairs. There was a dark patch hovering over the stairs’ landing and beyond that, I was uncertain what else existed. I listened for flies and children’s babbling.”

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