Tuesday, March 11, 2008

How much the human body contains - excerpt 3

To look up is the biggest drug of all; to contemplate the cosmological patterns and see them simply as an expression of within, to see the energy we are made of and how recklessly it breathes. When he kissed me it was on. We were on top of the worlrld, balanced on a wooden fortress in the grounds of Mount Carmel primary school, down Sandy Bay roadd  l looking out to the sea, with a slide and a rope ladder as the only two sure means of escape, the stars up above a possible third option. He kissed me and pushed me back and I put my hand on his face and he put his under my bum and I lifted up into a kiss that became eternal, like everything is but we just don’t choose to remember it as such, and when I put my hand on his cock it was not that big and he lost his breath until I poured more into him, opened up and surrounded him.

It happened before I even knew what I was, and before I did it scared the fuck out of me. I behaved in a way that was definitely unusual, one I had not imagined or foreseen. It was of some other body. We were both of a different body. The hardness and hairiness of dog.

We got all our clothes off; some of them fell to the ground. If you enter someone you leave something of yourself inside. It happened with a self I didn’t recognize yet. The whole sky collapsed. A big heavy weight fell and split open into water upon us and now cold ice was beginning to form as he collected our clothes. The clouds came and went.

Back in my single metal bed he examined me carefully. Every light in the house was on. Then he walked naked to turn them all off and when he pinched me I folded in two. If life depends on this let it depend on this. He took his wet body off mine; the sheets were stained and mud was everywhere. The imprint of everything we did, where each of his fingers had touched me and where mine had gone too, showed up on the sheets. I tried to fold them up.

If this could have gone on forever it would have, maybe it still is. So we smoked another joint and his body changed and so did mine. Visibly this time. I opened my eyes and saw a monster. I ran down under the house because I wanted to hide. That’s when I saw the dress. The moon was seriously low in the sky, right up in the middle of the doorway leading to the woodpile and all the junk collected for over one hundred years, an obvious worlrld out there, and out of breath I put it on. It fitted perfectly, my breasts half spilling out and I collected the axe and would have used it then and there but instead I held his neck so his mouth would not leave. If I’d stopped kissing him and had opened my eyes I would have killed him, maybe. Had to kill some one that night because that’s what I felt like doing. I could have cut his throat, no doubt about it. There was still time.

It was three o’clock in the morning and Nicky and Cliff were back. Richard had joined them for a cup of tea in the lounge room. Somehow he’d gotten himself clean, must’ve rooted around Rod’s clothes, a black suit and white shirt, forgotten the cuff links and washed his face in dew. I came in wet and d didirty and no one seemed to notice. Except Cliff. He looked at me and smiled, like I’d opened up my cleavage, smeared myself with mud and put on a red dress especially for him.

I sat down in front of them with the axe between my knees. I was a little confused but absolutely certain of what was going to happen next.

I sat on the yellow bentwood chair in front of the three of them. I understood totally everything. I thought I did.

It happened in an instant and so was quite difficult to evaluate. Nic explained the ears to them and they didn’t show that much interest.

The axe was sharp and every part of my body was visible.

How much the human body contains - excerpt 2

So, I chose to see everything that was there, hairy Rick with his bum up high and his face inside my sister’s skirt, the snake hissing into the heavens, turning the stars around with its breath, and then lying squirming across Chris’s two opened palms as he stood there stretched and majestic above us. This animal was a fat and solid thing that after falling down either side of Chris’s hands entwined around his bare belly and then slipped into the darkness behind.

I saw neither end. For all I knew there was no end. And in the middle of it it appeared to contain a life more than its own. I saw the imprint of a little hand, then two of them pushing against its pulsating skin. When I looked again there were a dozen or so appendages moving like they wanted to get out. I was intrigued and looked to the stars for an answer.

And the lead singer’s voice was truly angelic. Even Nicky and Rick had stopped what they were doing and were now sat at his feet in rapture. Their eyes were raised to heaven like mine but it was hell that opened up and it did so with a groan that could not have originated from any place else except a fathomless darkness. I felt it in each part of my body, I felt it as a terrible whole, and at that moment understood perfectly what was going on.

I saw the pit that surrounds us, the great height of its perturbing walls and the stars a vague illumination from above. The moon though not yet physically present in this opening was startlingly close, just a breath away from the edge, the hairy lip of the outermost region of hell, and it was upon perceiving this edge between the two, heaven and hell, that made me think I might’ve been at Bevin’s side this cold and horrendous night if I had so chosen. But with that realization I did not dwell on him. I did not think of love. I was not fearful; there truly isn’t a devil great enough and Chris was the devil in that particular moment of time only and he knew it as much as we all did. I mean, we all get our turn.

So it turned out that it wasn’t the fur that gave me my entry into hell, right from the start me and Sally have been in agreement on that point, the dog days have always been much better; and the devil and I, we silently made a pact that even though it brought terrible consequences, I have never been regretful of. You could say it was my making.

And the gut churning, demonic groan had come from the snake as its tender, puce coloured underside had been slit by god knows what but it looked like a kiss so it must have been his teeth and immediately it had opened up and spewed all that it contained, a filthy mess of bodies each in its own separate bloody sack, upon the black earth in front of us and in the light of the moon we watched those bodies squirm and grovel into a human life.

For the moon had now come over the edge, breaking open the darkness, and the sight was unbelievable. This was when Rick high tailed it, tried to drag me along with him first, his mouth around my wrist, but when he met with my resistance he spun on his hind legs and ran. I watched him fly upward and penetrate the moon, watched him run naked into the light, and then saw his massive jaw opening into a howl that let out every grief he could have possibly experienced.

And still my body refused to become wolf even though my first instinct was to lick the blood, all those birthing sacks, off of their flesh, if indeed it was flesh. They looked human but who could really tell. And then one of those little hands grabbed onto Nicky’s ankle, like wrapped itself around as if it was a piece of thick and soggy rope. The fingers seemed all joined together now they’d exited the womb. Were they hands or tentacles? They seemed to shift between the two. She screamed and kicked at it, with her other foot she did this. Another one attached and like Rick had done for me, I tried to drag her away.

Christ Chris get them the fuck off me, and he smiled like the two of us were playing a kid’s game. Then he took his lighter out of his jeans and flicked it up close to her ankle. How can something so simple work but it did and the tentacles shrunk back like a leech from the light or the heat, I’m not sure which, but it smelt like burning flesh. She got behind me and rubbed where the slimy thing had been, a red raw rash already appearing, and it never really left her. Like the poison had gotten inside her bloodstream.

She couldn’t talk properly after that anymore, and everyone put it down to too many drugs. For Clifford specifically it was that fucking chemical, who the fuck knows what crap goes into it. And though Chris was totally remorseful he still refused to be her boyfriend. That’s how things go. The first circle of hell had been entered.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

How much the human body contains - excerpt

As soon as I walked up to the bar at the Downtowner he had his eyes on me. Now they’re nearly popping out. The scent of terror is amazing, absolutely palpable, and I get down to it slowly. Concentrate on each hair growing, every millimetre of muscle extending. I have control over all parts of my body. He has none. He pisses his pants.

A very expensive suit looks like. Gold watchband and wedding ring, a wallet full of dough. I nuzzle my nose inside his jacket and put the fat bulk of it between my teeth. He’s still alive, has no comprehension whatsoever. A quick swing to the left and the wallet flies out the car window, hits a rock and bounces off. He scrambles for the door. I place my paw on his chest. My claws elongate. Don’t much feel like a run tonight, nuzzle into his neck, you’re not going anywhere tonight, and the smell of fear is ammonia.

In an instant he seizes up, all this energy inside and the absolute inability to do anything with it. I open my mouth to show him the flexibility of my jaw. It fits nicely round his head. Shards of bone, lots of blood and brain, explode immediately outward. The windscreen and dashboard, actually the whole interior of the 1977 Ford Fairlane is covered with what a moment ago was inside him. It always amazes me how much a human body contains.

Once the kill is over with everything seems to shift into another gear. The pace of things slows down. The stars move slower. I breathe in and what’s external becomes internal, out and the dissipation is perceptible on the very edges of the universe. My body is part of everything and I can move it all. Nothing is beyond my reach.

I push his car off the edge of Mount Wellington. Police will confirm later that they have no idea how this could have happened. The latest model Fairlane, bought only weeks prior to the accident, was found by a bushwalker at the bottom of the Organ Pipes. The summit directly above this defining geological feature is approximately 400 metres to the north of the official car park. No roads lead here. There are a lot of boulders in-between.

I work outside the so-called laws of physics.

It all depends on the paradigm within which you choose to live. You make the structure, this is what it comes down to. I don’t believe that being a werewolf necessarily gives me these powers but rather an awareness of my full capabilities. The beast within us all is a magnificent creature and I let it out as often as possible.

When I walked into the Downtowner on Elizabeth Street just after 9.30pm I knew that Clifford Palmer, drive time announcer for 7HT, was taking refuge there after a fight with his wife. He bought me a vodka and orange, a straight Jack Daniels for himself, and we went sat down in one of the private booths to the left of the bar. Immediately he put his hand up my skirt, told me I was a spunk, and I opened my legs for him, took a sip of my drink. Rolled an ice cube round my mouth as I leaned in to kiss him. Think so?

He stunk of cigarettes and aftershave, bourbon. You bet, his hot breath going all over my neck, yer sexy sex-y, down near my cleavage he’s panting damp and fast, uh huh uh huh, gone right into my ear hole now, fearl like a root babe? and he got his fingers inside my knickers, opened my wet up. Stuck them into me, god you turn me on you liddel tart.

And I could smell everything he’d been up to. Could’ve mapped out there and then his moves for the whole of the previous week. I disassembled him, when he’d last filled his car up, when he’d had a wank, smoked a joint. Put his face in a muff. Whose muff, I knew that too. I knew Clifford better than he knew himself.

The lighting was dim except for the glow from above the bar. I leant in for a pash. His tongue curled round the ice, hooked onto it and dragged it out. He spat it into the palm of his hand, looked up at me, then used his thumb to push it into my vagina. I felt the trickle of it melting, watched the barmaid polishing glasses. It was a Tuesday night and there was nothing much to do.

Cliff was forty-two. He liked young girls. Preferably sluts. He wanted a fifteen year old mouth that knew how to give a blow job. There were plenty round.

I got home just after three in the morning. Fog lay across the highway and the paddocks on either side. Heads of sheep sat on top, occasionally moved. It was like they were swimming, treading water in a white, steamy lake. The moon was up high, everything was clear up there, and I left them to it. It was tempting but I never act on impulse, prefer to choose my kill carefully.

With Cliff I contemplated murder within twelve hours of us being introduced. That was a year ago now, outside the Red Line depot in Harrington Street. Picked him for a prick right off. The world is a better place etc etc, not that I care much about that. I don’t go in for altruism, choosing the cruel and violent, getting rid of the useless. I can kill an upstanding citizen a loving mum; I knocked off my great Aunt Vera. I always have the pack’s best interests at heart but in the end I kill for reasons of my own. Survival.

Still it felt good to see him die, the slimy bastard, frightened and whimpering, his face distorted with pain. I won’t deny there was a great deal of pleasure in that. He was an arrogant shit who thought he knew it all and ended up knowing nothing, the hairy beast blowing his brain long before my teeth did. And when I did eventually get round to sending him to hell it was as a piece of shitting pissing, stinking bit of meat, which is pretty well how you’re all going to do it. Violent or not death, like birth, is ultimately messy.

Monday, January 7, 2008

Welcome to Anna Dusk's blog

Writer and painter, Anna Dusk, will post news, writing and art to this blog. Stay tuned for more.