Obscurity Report (December 2015)
by Aurelia Aurita
Deadly flowers are bursting all around me. Arms beckon from the dank foliage, dripping with musky nectar from the fruit which sustains them. Spectral structures tower with the optimism of a lost future, in which we had roles to fulfill, and magic to guide us. They were grooming us to become perfect archetypes, before we obscured our vision with the toxic effluvia of the tortured earth. Survival of the blindest: atrophied eyes being unsightly, nobody much grumbled at their collective dissolution. The obelisks and spires can, to this day, see for hundreds of miles.
Even a carnation in a woman's hair is a welcome reminder of the world I thought I was being projected into, full of infinitely looping patterns of black lace and red pepper; creeping, luminous vines of neon yellow idol worship, angel trumpets sounding their seeds, and dogs giving birth under the pale moon. Matriarchy crowning third-eye-beams. Gods and monsters floating upriver disembark in the reeds to piss. Smoke rises from a mighty camp, accompanied by howling, and an immense rythmic beating which echoes out into the night. This is my heart. It is burning alive. I only pray that the ones who shall consume it are worthy.
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