?sdrawkcab gnikaeps
All is blackness, an ocean of darkness. You, a ribbon of scales and ribs, are swirling through it, falling down, then sideways, then through holes in space and time. Why?
Why has this happened? Without the solid footing
of logic, how can you function?
Writhing uselessly, tongue flicking in and out to taste air that doesn't exist, you wish you had your hands back.
A throne tips into view. On the throne sits a beautiful maiden. You hover before her, lidless eyes staring coldly. She raises her hands... and holds yours in hers. Your two hands, severed, are in her grasp.
"Do you want these back?" she asks. You don't know how to nod.
"Out of the dirt and weeds I came," the woman continues, "out of the gravel and smoke, where alcohol reeked. All was taken from me, and now I take all. All will come to this mansion.
Justice will be served. Your hands will join the others."
You see that her throne is made entirely of severed human hands. You coil up in revulsion.
She floats away with your hands, and you hiss angrily, trying to slither after them. But it's to no avail.
A cold wooden floor suddenly presses against your belly. To your right, a red curtain. To the left, blackness. It's the front of a stage.
Three men and two women walk out of the darkness in front of you and quickly surround you, humble figures dressed in black. You rear up reflexively and realize you're the same size as they.
Something spins you around to look at all their faces in turn as they all say something to you.
".epoh eht era ew"
".elur tonnac ssendas taerg neve"
".nogard laet eht htiw ylla"
".tsetsaf si tserof s'lerriuqs eht"
"!dnim ruoy stcetorp eman ruoy"
FLASSSSSHHHH...
You awaken, in a different room than before. Three doors are set into marble frames, three great oaken doors with
appropriate names on them: Kangaroos, Deer, and Squirrels.
A hole is cut into the bottom just big enough for you to fit. Thinking on your dream, you solemnly plot your course.
Written by Mr.Peaches on 14 November 2006
The end (for now)