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Posted by:

Caleb_Monroe

Date:

September 5th, 2007 11:01 PM

Header:

Bonus Fiction: "Melquíades Is Dead."

Bulletin:

“MELQUÍADES IS DEAD.”

Through the fine silk sheets you are aware of the coarse grass mat between your shoulders, providing little more comfort than the hard earth beneath it. Objects in your field of vision look bloated, distended. Try to remain as still as possible—any movement in this state is uncomfortable. The hut around you already has its own sense of movement. The room is tilting on its side so slowly that no one but you seems aware of it. Realize for the first time how strange the weight of your beard feels on your chest.

Your head is propped on the knees of an old gypsy woman. The air around her moves ponderously, burdened by fragrant perfumes and scented scarves. Her hands as they stroke yours feel like calloused parchment. She is wrapped in a thick, brightly-dyed woolen blanket as defense against the cold. The grease in your hair moves down your temples in warm rivulets.

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