He sits, seething into his environment. His fingers curl into the earth beneath him and, as the topsoil is overturned, a thick smoke wafts out from underneath the loosened ground. The blue vapors sinuously maneuver between the molecules of oxygen, nitrogen, argon, carbon dioxide and begin to fill the boy up. His nostrils flare as he inhales, breathing the substance deep into his scarred lungs. Unblinking eyes are made to water, and a film forms on his tongue- his mouth slack and unfocused as he takes it in. Like the invaded air around him, his mind is cloudy, thick, hazy, and quietly burning. He’s lost, but content. The solace he’s found in naked, feral solitude is worth the nightmarish progression that led him to the quiet, unfamiliar space he now inhabits.
A metamorphic neogenesis is taking place; the cells of the boy’s skin have already begun to harden- each multiplying and becoming crystalline, shimmering, and slowly enveloping him in a chrysalis coating. His transformation is imminent; all that’s left to do now is wait it out. The ever-sought-after balance of safety, contentedness, and peace has almost settled in. It’s enough, at least, for the smoke to not be worrisome anymore. Like creeping darkness of the mind, the haze only increases as the troubled earth from whence it billows is disturbed. He’s learning to let alone and let go- if only for a time. A period of repair. Exploration is no longer necessary. Introspection is detrimental to survival. He knows enough to know that he will be okay. Wrongs are being righted. There’s a lift in the grey horizon of the darkest hours.
Light crests the distant mountain silhouettes. His crystal sheen is made apparent as the ray of warmth is refracted on the boy’s skin. Those creatures- both helpful and harmful- which have been observing the hazy transformation from a distance, turn and creep from the glare. Like the darkness in which they were intentionally shrouded, they will be back, but not for a time.
Who they find upon their return, however, will have changed.
A metamorphic neogenesis is taking place; the cells of the boy’s skin have already begun to harden- each multiplying and becoming crystalline, shimmering, and slowly enveloping him in a chrysalis coating. His transformation is imminent; all that’s left to do now is wait it out. The ever-sought-after balance of safety, contentedness, and peace has almost settled in. It’s enough, at least, for the smoke to not be worrisome anymore. Like creeping darkness of the mind, the haze only increases as the troubled earth from whence it billows is disturbed. He’s learning to let alone and let go- if only for a time. A period of repair. Exploration is no longer necessary. Introspection is detrimental to survival. He knows enough to know that he will be okay. Wrongs are being righted. There’s a lift in the grey horizon of the darkest hours.
Light crests the distant mountain silhouettes. His crystal sheen is made apparent as the ray of warmth is refracted on the boy’s skin. Those creatures- both helpful and harmful- which have been observing the hazy transformation from a distance, turn and creep from the glare. Like the darkness in which they were intentionally shrouded, they will be back, but not for a time.
Who they find upon their return, however, will have changed.