Susan: Cunt Terrorism of the Spirit

When Susan wakes, the morning air is cold and spidery; the cold air combing and tickling at her sweating temples. To Susan, the bedroom appears somehow off-balance, incongruous, leaning on its side.

She scoops up her phone from the nightstand and raises her eyebrows at a missed call from the police department. Her head starts spinning, and she calls the number but is put on hold by an automated voice system. Thinking it’s a mistake, she ends the call, lifts out of bed, and steps toward the bathroom.

Susan stumbles, struggles to walk straight. She’s feeling off-kilter, as if in a transiting, carrying motion, like she was standing on the deck of a ship in a choppy sea.

Wiping sleep from her eyes, she smells cooking gas. It’s a noxious, chemical smell. She gags, freezes in her tracks, and stomach acid bubbles up at her throat. Then she suddenly has a sense that she’s not in control of her body. Something pushes her. There’s something moving her limbs for her. Her movements are involuntary. Her legs kick out from under her, swing to the air.

A euphoria overtakes her. Her cunt convulses, and she senses a tingling, a heat hugging her like a blanket. She then submits to the force, submits to its sweet, awesome energy.

She levitates, floats toward the bathroom. She bows her head and has a fuzzy wet sensation between her legs and glances down to see she’s unloosed her bladder. Yellow piss drips down her inner thighs, pools on the hardwood floor.

The force tears her white robe from her body, eviscerates it into embers, ashes in the air, and she flies, like a patient carried on an invisible flying stretcher, into the bathroom, where she is shifted upright, erected, into the air, and then lowered to her feet, stood in front of the mirror.

Her arms begin swinging and whirling. Her teeth chatter. Her head spins in a concentric circle. Then she bites, compressing and grinding her teeth with the violent force of a rabid dog, and her teeth crumble in her mouth, crunch like crispy cookies. Salty blood drips in trails from the corners of her clenched lips.

One by one, starting with her toes, each and every one of her bones snap like twigs, breaking and popping, in a warm, beautiful surging wave, licking upwards, from her feet to her legs, to her hips, ribs, spine, neck, stopping at her jaw, which hangs dead from her face, held in place by only the sagging skin of her pallid face.

A bubble of black blood pops from her empty mouth, slathers down her chin and neck...

Her eyes bulge and her eyeballs burst, leaving only empty, darkened pits in her skull. Her body, once so perfect that it was sold as a commodity, now is simply a horrible bag of broken bones.

But she’s never felt happier. She’s never felt warmer and more alive, closer to the constellations, the glorious dots; planets of incandescent blue pierce through her darkness...

Then the merciful force again levitates her, and this time she’s floating belly up, into and out of the bedroom.

She floats down, over the stairs, the stairs moving, on their own, like a wooden escalator.

She floats into the anteroom, where she hears a banging on the door. The stink of the cooking gas grows overpowering. She feels a rush of blood to her head.