Wednesday, 10 December 2014

scene from I.S.

I'm debating on sharing with  you, my fellow reader, the events pertaining within my novella. BUT i must. Here's a scene.

I put away the dictionary for now and focused on the writings of Hume and Kierkegaard and especially Freud. Remarkable people that would change my outlook on life substantially. Kierkegaard would teach me the either/or effects on how to write and Freud allowed me to think outside the box on sexuality and the dreams (and nightmares) of my past and presence. I had one dream where I was sitting in the bathtub, fully clothed, with coins on my eyes and leeches on my body. Ya see, leeches would suck the bad blood out of you, but, we realized that idea was hocus pocus by the 19th century. They were underneath my clothing and I stood up in the bathtub and got naked and then my step dad would appear and cut each leech off my body with an army knife and i would bleed, gushingly with holes on my torso and legs where he cut off the agonizing leaches and I fell back into the tub, water into blood and i just laid there thinking and wondering and delusion and I woke up in a sweat and Miss Cline asked if I was alright and I felt my body and I was whole. No blood, no leeches, no army knife. I was a whole person with just my pajamas on.  

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