Shanaz in his mind palace?

by DullChameleon Mon May 29, 2023 9:56 am

It is unclear if what follows is really happening, or if it is just happening inside the head of a man coming apart at the seams. I suppose it really doesn’t matter now though does it? After all, all work and no play makes Shanaz a dull boy.

The woods, ground mist. Shanaz, kneeling, chopping wood. A voice whistles the first line of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”, making Shanaz look around. He returns to his chopping.

Shanaz: Wha - ?

Shanaz feels among the wood, looks at his fingers.

Shanaz: Must’ve cut myself. Cut my hand. Play the band. Sinking sand.

The second line of the nursery rhyme is whistled, closer. Shanaz hardly hears it. He examines his fingers.

Shanaz: Eh?

Shanaz scrabbles at the sticks. The Angel appears behind him in a cloak and hood.

Shanaz: Where - ?

He picks up pieces of wood tentatively: their undersides are running with gore. It drips, Shanaz drops them, backs away.

Shanaz: The blood is coming out ‘the ground. Coming out ‘the ground’. Coming round the mountain. Shanaz not make a sound. Not make a sound. Quiet mouse Shanaz.

The Angel laughs.

Angel: The Great Work continues Prophet. Briggs was the first step. A necessary step. A powerful step.

The Angel laughs again. Shanaz runs off.

The Angel walks forward as the mist thickens around it and is then lit red, reflecting of its faceless mask. It looks around the wood. The voice whistles “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” again but moving further and further away this time.

The Angel nods and moves off slowly as the mist thickens to opacity.