Crumbling (A dream sequence story)A Story by Jan Gardner
Part of a series of very short fiction I am working on. It depicts the dreams and nightmares of those in psychosis. I hope to post one up every week, maybe more often.
It was underneath an uncaring blue sky - that beautiful dome with it’s wealth of disinterest - that I stood and watched my life fall to pieces, quite literally.
My wife - her name was Alexis - was standing before me; her bare feet cushioned in a soft, lush expanse of green stretching near to endless like the sky above, the two meeting on the horizon in some distant, distorted future. She was crumbling but oblivious as usual to anything wrong, any form of the negative, she wore an almost docile smile of contentment on her face.
She just began to fall apart… At first her arms seemed to sag inside the delicate purple cardigan surrounding them; elongating to look like that of a lesser evolved being, accompanied by a nauseating smacking/sucking, the only sound to reached my ears. My mouth agape, my expression aghast, I could only watch with what amounts to a macabre curiosity as the extension continued until, with a lazy slump, they hit the ground, independent and free. In my shock I did not notice the distinct lack of viscous fluid that should have accompanied them.
From her feet to her thighs a chain reaction began; it was as though the bones encased in the flesh decided to give up and flee her failing body, leaving the muscles to provide their own paltry means of support. Like a house of cards she crumpled inward, slowly folding in on her self, loose skin, muscle and tissue beginning to form stacking mounds encircling her until, from the torso down she was just a pile of malformed matter. All the while she just stared at me, nonchalant with that dumb smile plastered on her bespectacled face - a face attached to a neck which was now only attached to a rectangle of meat " as she fell forward, impossibly slow, towards the infinite green surrounding her, hit it and disappeared.
That was the first, and last dream I had of the woman I killed. She may have been my wife, I don’t really recall, but the emotion that erupted in my body borne of that dream remains surprisingly potent. I haven’t slept since.
© 2011 Jan Gardner
Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom
AboutA boy fighting a long battle with confidence and its power over the will to create. I write poetry and very short fiction. I am hoping to finish some short genre stories soon and send them off to lite.. more..