THE SLUDGE:
05 - 04 - 25 / Day 27
I melted.
My skin had become molten lava. It was the first thing to slide off of my exterior. Pooling around my ankles and rendering me unable to move. The next thing to go were my red muscles. They fell and plopped into the sludge like pieces of jello. My bones turned into candle wax. Unable to sustain, they too mixed in with the mess of myself.
Before I knew it – I had become formless. My eyeballs rolled across my personal waves of red meat, brown skin, and tainted bones. Nothing was left.
I attempted to regain shape. Pulling at the far corners I had leaked into. Using every fiber of my mushy brain I had swimming around in the contents. I yanked myself together.
The sea shrunk and took the form of a misshapen ball. I was unable to do more as the heat rose into my senses. It cackled at my useless attempts.
It was unseen, but the burn roared across my nerves. It clamped down onto me with a mighty fist and flattened my being back down into sludge.
I was like this for some time. Unformed. Hazy. Most people stepped over me like I was some dried out worm on the ground. Yes – some stepped on me, but it wasn’t like I had a voice to speak with. Shout out and say “Hey! Can’t you see the snake gliding under you?” No, no.
I skated along like everything was ice cool. Like no one could truly see the indistinct sludge that was losing more of its opacity everyday. The one that preferred the darkness and solitude of – nothing. No one. It never helped.
As each day passed on without a release – the thoughts and mirrors in my head – the more the bubbles began to pop.
One there. Pop. With a small spiral of steam. Then another over there, where my shape thinned out. Pop. And thrice. Pop, pop, pop.
I woke up to the entire room clouded with my own perspiration. The entirety of myself was undulating. I only had one eyeball left and some of myself was leaking out of the door and into the hall.
It was getting out of control. I needed to speak – I needed to let go. Anywhere, anything.
The sunlight touched the pencil on the top of my nightstand. It smiled at me as I used every effort to form a hand.
It reached up – and up – and grabbed the pencil with two fingers. More steam popped into the dripping chamber.
I gripped onto the pencil, toddler style, and slinked to my white walls. I began scribbling. Everything, anything, all of it. It needed out. With each new word the contents of myself began inching together. Bit by bit, piece by piece, I was returning.
It didn’t stop until the entire wall was covered in words. Some of them were deeply embedded like scars. Others just barely noticeable. All of it, me. I sat there bare as a newborn.
Legs crossed under each other as I let the morning breeze wash over my ass-cheeks. I held my face and smiled. Then giggled like I was a boy again. My eyes twinkled as they washed over every thought I wrote out. My chest expanded as my breathing wavered in and out steadily. I hugged myself.
Everything was wired for the moment. Just complete even for a little bit. Until next time. Or so on.
(Thank you for reading. Inspired by the (May)hem challenge which is being hosted by
. This is in response to the May 3rd prompt in which you had to choose an image and write the opposite feeling of what the image portrayed. Substack decided I do the one below. Hope it works.)
You have such a wonderful writing voice.
It's like decay and pestilence personified, in the best ways.
I absolutely love this story!
I tried to comment once already! I loved this! almost wholesome body horror. only thing is I wanted more of the initial melting! but I'm wierd haha.