Behind The Curtain
There is a soft amber light that radiates from an ever-shifting position. The enamel on your teeth has been replaced with brass and your mouth feels heavy. You are slack jawed and speaking with a slow slur. You make your way towards the center of the room. As you look around, you notice the walls have been replaced with thin sheets of sugared glass, which begins to fissure as you drag your hand alongside of it. The ceiling opens up. As you reach the center of the room it begins to rain. The drops fall around you, never hitting you directly. There is the sound of a door opening. The sound of your mother calling. The sound of your brass teeth clacking against each other as you run from wall to wall, looking for the door that never existed. A crack of thunder rolls through the sky and the whole earth seems to shake. You try to speak but your tongue is too big for your mouth. There is a soft amber light that you spend your whole light trying to pinpoint. You never do.