“Of course I fuck aliens.”
Geraldine took another drag of her cigarette. “Who doesn’t these days?” She pointed to the window, a smile creasing her plump cheeks. “Sure, you’ve got the liberals, banging their sticks outside Downing Street, shouting how intercourse with aliens is tantamount to rape. What a crock of shit. You don’t just fuck aliens, they fuck you.” She blew out a ring of smoke that hung in the air before dissolving into sand and peppering her black shoes.
“Those liberal misfits would know that,” Geraldine continued, stubbing the cigarette out on the palm of her hand, “if they’d participated in the ‘awakening’ of mankind.”
Her eyes wandered the office, lingering first on a bowl of daffodils, then on a framed picture of Salvador Dali. “Sorry,” she said, leaning forward. “What’s that? My first time?” She rubbed her hands together and gave a shrill laugh, tongue sliding between lips. “Now that was an experience.”
The shadows of the room lengthened. The wall became black tar, within its centre a single eye formed, emerald green and alert. Its pupil dilated to a black drop of ink and popped with a faint hiss.
Geraldine waited for the room to right itself before continuing. “The aliens are adaptable,” she said, savouring each word, “bending shape, becoming soft like ice-cream or hardened as carved knobs of wood, even hugging and gripping in a way that’s never been experienced before.” Her eyes turned wet; hungry. “Of course, that’s just the physical world.”
The lace of her right shoe started to writhe; with a dismissive glance, Geraldine kicked the shoe away. Twin yellow eyes opened upon the leather and it scurried sideways, like a deformed crab.
“The first one came in through that window. Knocked me off the chair and penetrated every hole in my body. The orgasm which followed; set light to my skin and burnt a hole in my soul. I mean to say, it was like the addict’s first seductive rush; that, ‘oh, my, fucking, God,’ on which so many lives have been destroyed.” She looked into the darkness. “Like being fucked by the Devil and enjoying it.”
Her eyebrows arched. “You’re surprised a woman of power would fall to baser instincts?” She looked to her shoe, which hissed. “What can I say? Politicians are cheap fucks, you know? The alien never had it so easy.” She pulled another cigarette from her pocket. “And I’ll tell you this for free, when the rifts open and we begin our ascension, it’ll be the politicians leading the way.”
She struck a match and the cigarette flared. The shoe snarled and launched forward. Geraldine lashed out and grabbed the shoe mid-flight. “Of course, after the physical, you catch a glimpse of the next stage, a snippet of creation.” She poked the cigarette into the shoe’s yellow eye. It squealed like a stuffed pig.
“You think you know creation? The reality is you don’t have the first clue. Creation is about emotion; links to what is and what was, what wants to be and what never has been. All of it.”
She slid the shoe back upon her foot and stamped upon the floor. The shoe grunted and squirted ooze from its heel. Outside, a shadow passed the window accompanied by the steady beating of wings.
“I spent a week fucking that thing, exploring and demanding, ripping and tearing. I even consumed some of it, in my need, my desire to own, want and become it.”
She fell silent and for a long moment didn’t speak, the cigarette burned away until, Geraldine whispered, “I think I lost my mind.”
The daffodils trembled and a scream echoed from outside, before cutting short in mid-shriek as if someone had hit ‘mute’.
She tapped her chest. “I had a seizure and twitched on the floor like I’d been wired into the mains. I couldn’t move for a couple of days, couldn’t feel anything from the neck down. I’m amazed I didn’t die. I couldn’t move, but I wanted to. My only thought was to get back to the alien and fuck it again. But I couldn’t. I had to lie like a cripple and watch it leave.”
Geraldine stood up and stretched; thick hair sprouted from the walls and the window grew lips. “The feeling in my toes came back eventually and the addiction fades after the first day. And once the addiction’s gone you get fringe benefits.”
She ran her hand across the wall which purred like some monstrous cat. “I thought the voices were in my head. A symptom of my insanity, but then I saw through their eyes, felt what they felt: My neighbours, fellow ministers, the cleaning boy down the hall; everyone, in fact, who had truck with an alien. I could be them and that was better than sex. In my mind, in everyone’s mind, we saw the world, not as we wanted it to be, but how it was. The truth stripped away: lies, bullshit and shadow; all gone.” She snapped her fingers together. “We were all sisters that day.”
Geraldine straightened her blouse. “I’ve got to go.” She paused. “What? The rest? Well that’s history. The slit in space-time changed reality and we had to go with it or be left behind. That small group; the undesirables, whom the aliens left untouched will never know great consciousness, the same as we can never understand the warped creatures that continued to fuck the aliens without pause.”
She grinned. “Those human pyramids which have sprung around the rifts: all flesh, bone, alien; coming, thrusting and shoving in sweat and filth; will one day punch those rifts wide open. And I for one will go through that door to what waits beyond. I’d advise anyone to do the same.”
Geraldine stood in silence for a moment, nodded, and walked through the wall like a disembodied spirit, the shoe howling with each step.
After a short while, the daffodils shook and said, “Thank-you Prime Minister.”
_______________
©2010 Neil John Buchanan
Neil is an occasional writer who has an unhealthy fascination with the undead. He lives with a sympathetic wife and two manic children and spends his weekends thinking up inventive ways to describe dead folk.
http://njbuchanan.blogspot.com/
Tags: Neil John Buchanan
June 14th, 2010 at 5:04 am
That was weird, freaky and was filled with all sorts of very messed up images.
I think I need to lie down now - somewhere far away from daffodils
June 14th, 2010 at 8:21 am
Thanks Graeme
June 14th, 2010 at 7:07 pm
A nice little slice of strange, freakazoid, WTF, bizarro, goodness. Gotta love that howling, animate shoe. Nice work.
June 15th, 2010 at 3:03 am
Cheers Douglas.
June 15th, 2010 at 8:12 am
This is bizarro writing at its finest. Geraldine’s voice was a perfect driving force for this type of story. Really good.
June 15th, 2010 at 1:06 pm
Love the reference to Dali, because I felt like I was wandering through one of his paintings. A very obscure and wonderfully weird tale that I enjoyed very much and has me a little bit curious about my own shoes.
June 15th, 2010 at 1:14 pm
Thanks Angel. It was originally written for a Bizarro group prompt
June 15th, 2010 at 1:50 pm
Thanks D.A. Glad you liked it.