Trip: Part 2

← Previous Next →
I sat there wondering my fate. Running and turning things over in my head. Nik. That man. I felt uncertainty around him. What intent did the man have? Was it for my sake or his one, or that way where his good comes from my good. He was not here for long, but he did tell me his name, but did not wait for me to give mine. He might not care. But why then would he care enough to give his. He wanted me to know it. Did I want to give him mine? ‘No,’ I thought. I did not want to become a known man.

I looked out at the blue sky and found the moon, illuminated as it always is by the sun. I felt comfort in knowing the moon was there, a constant in this ever unfolding existence. But then I still sat here lost and unknowing. I needed to get going, moving was the only option. Standing I looked around at where I was. I did not know where I was.

I felt cold metal on my shoulder. I turned my head to see a metal beast. It was an unknown man in a business suit. He was impaled by one-hundred fifty four silver metal spikes which held his body over the ground. The unknown man did not touch the ground. The spikes were in different sizes and different lengths, the largest ones being two-hundred forty six centimeters tall, the smallest was thirty four centimeters long. The unknown man was bleeding from only one spike. The one through his throat. The blood left a pool under him. There was a crumb trail to follow, if you wanted to know where it or they had been. The unknown man did not move, he was not dead. The metal spikes twisted and moved to propel his suspended body forwards. The spikes produced a nauseating sound that folded and was similar to pale green. The unknown man’s hair and beard were well kept, his hands were clean and shoes were polished. The eyes were.

The sight was as terrifying as it was insane.

The unknown man or the metal beast spoke. The voice emerged from nowhere. Was it in my head? I tried to pay more attention to the hardened lips of the impaled unknown man bound to the moving spikes of the metal beast to see if they were moving. ‘I could not tell if they were real,’ I concluded to myself.

“You were not listening,” the ghost said in the reflection of one of the metal spikes as the beast walked away. The ghost was correct.

I followed the metal beast.

(More to Follow)
← Previous Next →