And it spins around...
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The endless sonorous lullaby tolling from the bell sent Gel'talot's vision sliding ever so slowly sideways, slipping subtly free from the clasps of cruel reality into a swaying serenade of slippery flames, hypnotically dancing around swirls of suffocating fumes. His equilibrium started to drift, disconnecting from the ground that seemed now... so. far. away. The bell was still ringing, but how? mused the whispers in his feverish little mind, floating languidly amidst the burning blaze and bobbing this way and that in a drunken haze.
Whirling around, was he whirling around? The whole world spilled over on a tilt and spun (round and round!) like a languid merry-go-round. Flames and fire, twister and shadows, a somnolent savage choir--squeezing his queasy stomach into sickening knots. Slurring his speech, he thought half-words, slumped into sizzling incoherence...
...hissing upon the ground. Something... something... little claws, trembling, reaching for a thought...
Reaching for something... sharp, cutting...
She's got her eyes open wide
Painfully impossible swallows accompanied the jagged razor feeling of an arrow's sweet edge cutting much too deep, dizzy feverish blood drops slowly slipping free, leaking out in swirling, rushing rivulets of boiling memories. Pitch black faded imaginary phantoms oozed up from these searing cuts too close to hear, lancing his mind with a serene melody, shivering into (de)composition this agony, anguish and heat...
...too close to breathe.
I've got an angel in the lobby...
The slow turning metal scraping over blackened flesh and bone so very, very close to the fire. Breathing flames. Singing and tolling and ringing the same. Cover your ears! it whispers. Cover... the same... cover... the pain... Whispers cutting, biting into the flesh, bleeding into shapes, intentions slipping off into some sawing razor's edge... to cut it open and end this game.
Slice, slice, jab, scratch, slice. Shrieks of pain shattering his sides, sizzling drops feeding the fight...
She's got her Christian prescriptures
... to keep going. Slicing and sawing...
...and death has crawled in her ear
Screams echoing so. far. away. they seem! Drops of blood and flesh chunks to feed the hungry ground.
Freed. Slipping down over his face, soaking his makeshift mask, dripping to his lips...
...while bloody chunks fell, littering the soil at his knees. Sawing, cutting, to make the singing stop.
...and it spins around...
Bloody tears soaked the ears in his claws, swaying with a rhythm he couldn't unhear.
...and we all lay down...
Swaying, swinging, sliding so much further now...
... so much further away from his ear in his claws, the taste of blood saturating his mouth with stickiness. Swallowing, so much... harder... now.
The world slipped by again, the tornado raging and rending everything in its way, winds taking every breath he had, laboring under the weight of a wheezing sleep.
...and it spins around...
Tumbling to the side, spilling like so much blood down his face upon the field that blazed before him...
...and we all lay down...
Eyes burning red, sizzling blackened tears streaking his miserable little features while weak lungs wheezed for ragged breath.
Keep spinning, it whispered. His little claws, trembling, clutching, pulling...
... so much effort to the distant sound of tearing, the twister ripping up the grains against his consciousness. Tearing, tearing, further away from the fields of this dream...
And wrapping him up in the coma of death, to slip back into the undiscovered blackness of memories and dreams, slip from the shell of a mortal coiling...
Wrapping it round and round... Fates' string so close to the arrow's sting...
To lie beside him now... in the sleep of death.
A dreadful light, dancing in the distance, reach for it.
Stretch into the fire. Catches, burns, higher, and... rise.
Struggling wretched little form, to his knees, reeling back...
... whirling, slowly...
... wheezing, breathe...
... dragging, dizzy, back around...
... into dry grasses whispering...
... shadowy stars spinning 'round...
... so high above, long arcing streaks...
... drifting sparks falling, igniting...
... whirling and lighting, slowly...
... changing winds into fire....
... pitching forward amidst a circling pyre...
... surrounding a sleeping little archer...
... in the field.
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