From Zilnic |
illustration by Alina Spatariu
“This world has turned into a machine. Driven by consumerism and engulfed in constant competition, people became mean, always so shady and afraid, watching their back, greedy, insensitive, aggressive, indifferent, killing the very planet they live on. “
Such a lousy speech, he thought… I’m not greedy, I’m not aggressive even if I look like a punk, I’m sensitive enough to charm a delicate girl, I care for the planet and actually distinguish the facts from the demagogies and I love competition. Is what gave birth to each of us – at least once in your life you were the best, the fastest of them all.
His mind was already stretched. He felt he was shot trough a hose whose ending was jerking ahead of him by the power of his desires and his mind was trying to catch up dragging all his muscles and frustrations mixing all the hormones and the concerns into units: seconds, meters, friction coefficients, etc. Tom Garuda was riding at 218 km/h knowing he will be too late anyway. Much too late. The road ahead of him was bending completely aware of all his limits.
At the destination the snail has just finished having a delicious portion of warm milk. The cow was in a good mood – she made the treat – they were chatting for two hours or so. That’s very quick for the snail and quite long for the cow. She always enjoys chilled out conversation – the snail is always chilled - not to mention he doesn’t drink too much – it was a nice afternoon. In his twisted world, the snail was talking science – what a charmer. The wind blew him the other day and he realized that speed is the true portal to another world.
“Why bother like all the other snails to find the escape gate in the infinity of the spiral that makes us? The sensation of speed is so unreal I had the feeling I could see the fundamental particle”, said the little fellow.
"Fundamentals are so beautiful. Touch one and you'll feel like climbing the hill of a virgin's breast while she sleeps in a summer day in the barn"
“Just dare the road, watch the big wheels spinning, think about the forces in place or imagine you’re born as one of the cars. Get close, feel that speed. I’m sure the sensation will split your world in two. With enough speed you can split the atoms. Physics as we know them are able to shift their laws at super speeds. We’re just stupid and ignorant of the possibilities around us.”
For such a wild speech the cow blushed and out of control gave the snail a hot milk bath. Snails are always crazy yet this specific little brat had something truly electric going between his eyes.
“Dude, if you’d be the most delicious grass, the most flavored flower, I would refrain myself from eating you, for this words.” said the cow as she was pushed out.
They said good bye and hoped for another encounter. With snails all the plans are always based on... hope.
Annabella Sue was releasing the cow earlier today. Worried and happy in the same time, she was doing everything with a lost look, picturing him on the road – riding that bike like crazy.
Once she was hoping for a way to remove her thoughts out of her brain. Now his memories were invading her, mixing all her hormones and frustration into a memory cinema, the purest form of female pleasure. The best scene was playing in repeat, keeping audience all her cells addicted to a memory while only a small part of herself was in charge with living the present.
Holding her in the tall grass where they just made love he was babbling for himself with the coolest tobacco voice.
“We’re far… far like the concept of protons for the strings. I should take you to a strings concert – you’d rebuild your skin on chills. You see… “us” it’s just a matter of speed…and there’s always more speed than I ever had the guts and the chance to reach. Seconds and meters – both so fixed and stubborn – in love like you and me. There is nothing hotter than love between theorems. What a challenge, eh? It’s how my engine works, explosion after explosion, energy fucking other energy, converting to power, torque, giving birth to meters per second… and me ... floating above them… developing feelings like lost kids recognizing their parents. There is nothing love can’t conquer: It’s physics. It's how your heart works, in perfect synchrony with mine - explosion after explosion - boom, boom - like a 2 cylinder beast…”
For such a wild speech, Anabella blushed and out of control gave Tom a shower of happy tears. Cleaning up the entire house she reaches the stairway to the mansard. From up there she will be able to see further. Under a dusty pair of purple velvet gloves she found her old coloring book and the scissors she loved so much when she was little. Time stopped – cutting paper with those scissors felt just the same – each millimeter, the sound , the feel of it, the heavy paper splitting in two, it was like the weight on her heart, splitting feelings with an immediate purpose and duty, the pressure of an accomplishment. Her childhood came back wearing magic purple velvet gloves.
After cutting a full page of the coloring book in slow motion speed, she looked at the permanent track the cut made, and suddenly her eyes searched the road outside. Empty.
Without thinking too much she cut the curtains with a single gesture. Like this she will be able to see him coming from further away. Over the hills, she could hear a car passing on the curved road. Before coming out of the woods, she would try to guess the brand and the engine of the vehicle. It passed fast. As the sandy beaches think of the sea, she was considering each car, a lover, yelling in her mind: The next one will satisfy me, the next one… please…
Her hand down her thick wool pants she was waiting for the next car to get closer – the Land Cruiser, v6 diesel almost made her cum but she denied herself the true pleasure. She will keep it for Tom Garuda who was speeding now like crazy on a modified Hayabusa on the serpent roads, coming to see her.
4 cars later her pants were down to her knees. She lays on her back on a dusty old desk that feels so cold and so good on her hot skin the chills on her skin multiplied to the extent all the spiders in the room freaked out. I mean... really freaked out. The dust sticks to her moist skin without a sound. She imagined a metal man with a turbo engine in his chest, sitting on top of her, puffing flames and vibrating like a beast, roaring under his incandescent skin.
With the same mad look she picks up the scissors and somehow, in a gesture of denying a self approach she starts to cut her pubic hair. It was an old and rusty pair of scissors making more of a mess to the puzzled look of now the stunned spiders gathered right above for a better look. Following the mess she spots our snail hanging on her leather boots. The little one managed to hitch an extreme ride out of the sables. The ride ahead of him was going to be even more important.
She decided: The snail will be her hourglass. Caressing its spiral she is falling in the hole our dreams are digging in the visuals right above the tip of our noses when the eyes are open and the brains are gone. Coming back to senses she’s putting the snail between her legs, facing her. She will wait until the snail will reach her hottest point and if by that time Tom Garuda will not be at the door or showing up on the road ahead over the hills, then his love will not conquer anything. His love will not be enough for them.
From Zilnic |
Now, if I remember correctly, the first snail on the moon left such a trail that was visible from the splendid gardens of Mars. Our snail was ready for the same destiny. There was no predicable outcome to such an endeavor – God was watching with great interest – and in such He stop painting “The most beautiful parrot” which remained forever unfinished.
While violated by the snail her time shifted and in a spiraling sequence, her thoughts produced images ready to echo within her brain and her heart, like a kaleidoscope. It seemed the snail was moving so slow it gave her an odd sensation. She had the feeling, our snail become longer and longer and transformed into a snake. A guilty feeling of cheating her true love with this “Naga”, split her world in two like the other snake split the gardens of Eden.
She started to wonder if Garuda was coming for her or just for the ride and the challenge, the thrill of speed. She detests being just a pretext. Has she taken the cow out of the stable? Yeah... she did a long while ago… and the cow hasn’t return yet. And the guy with the Land Cruiser… if he knew how he was so close to make her happy… wait… if she was happy with just a random Toyota crossing on the road in front of her mountain hut, was she really in love with Tom Garuda?
In the same time the road was moving like a serpent, soon to change into a viper. This swing was hypnotic – it can keep you there like a dancing flame can keep your eyes stuck to its moves. He was overwhelmed by images and he knew that he needs all his focus on the road to survive. But since synchronization was invented in his heart, his mind was in echo. Was he in love? Will he lose his freedom? Will he give up his thrills for her? He was too proud for that. If so… why was it that in the tunnel of speed he could almost see her breasts?
The cow was sitting next to the road for more than an hour – that is long even for a cow – she was clearly afraid – but if the snail was right, how could she just ignore such a big thing? If the snail managed a ride, a taste of true speed and his physical world suffered such a vision, she would not just stay there wondering and thinking how life goes by without her.
She makes the step and filled with fear she stops in the middle of the road, like a cow, computing all the mathematics and wondering how another dimension can feel, thinking how speed can really split the atoms.
The snail was at such a point that she could barely take it anymore. It knew where it was. After climbing so high just by melting himself over this ground, over the fine smell of a woman, over the greatest snail ever, it was time for him to open his eyes and really see the giant beauty that he conquered so fast.
It became unbearable. After standing still for so long, the snail was almost there, not sure exactly where as she couldn’t understand her senses anymore, but it was driving her out of her limits – and now... the small bastard was popping his eyes out – what a perv.
Her hourglass was done - the snail was up – meaning Tom Garuda was “not enough in love” with her. Somehow this thought was fighting the sensations between her legs – everything felt like the most unreasonable pleasurable pain. She’s lost... she needs and exit.
With a precise gesture she takes the scissors, waits just a bit more looking at her vagina and the snail coming his eyes out and just as a slow-motion sequence resumes with a very fast cut, she scissors the eyes of the snail, one by one.
“That’s for not loving me” she said after letting her body back over the dusty desk. She came.
The cow hears a distant engine sound, incredibly furious and in the same time she gathers the courage to open her eyes. It was already so dark. There was no light… just the sound…
“In the tunnel of speed why do I see her breasts?” echoes in his head as he was taking a steep turn – one knee down – just like on the races.
A sudden image of a cow in the middle of the road was the last effort his brain managed to perform. In the tunnel of speed there was a small error. He will be too late, way too late.
In the morning everyone received the news that a man split a cow in two, riding his bike at great speed. Tom Garuda was of course dead in the process.
Surrounded by darkness the snail had the craziest awakening – never to sleep away from it. Without his eyes, the doubt was gone. Nobody heard him saying anything after that – but we know that’s just because his stories were passing in front of his eyes too fast for him to manage to tell us anything. His consciousness was flashed down his spiral. In the mist of the total black he understood the blockade placed by the distance between his eyes. Free of reality the snail received the truth, released his spirit like a true Naga and become a God. He was happy, as Gods are every Monday.
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