The New Flesh

And we ran so fast and so far, all feet going THUD on them smacking the ground.

They gone all THUDDING and crashy on the dirt, it was so hard, so thick and so very very awful. And like it we continued, on and on, so far and so good.

We did, we hid past the daylight and far from the night, we went running and THUDDING and CRASHING and CREECHING as our legs would not stop. We did try to convince them, but our heads was too quiet, our legs was too stubborn.

O, so fast and so far, and some of us like as to die, I should think. We couldn’t to stop and to save them, I shouldn’t think, for that would entail us stopping our tracks and to freeze on the spot, dead like a doornail, or walk like a loosefish.

We couldn’t remember, I shouldn’t think, what it was we was running from, not all entirely, maybe hideous noises or bastards then, probably.

O, but then…yes, I’m afraid it was, then. When the earth split wide open and we saw us reflected in his skin, it did make us turn and retreat, yes. All screaming and yelling, our feet going all THUD THUD THUD as we turned and beat feet.

O, and ha ha! We do try to forget these things, as they tend to so poison our mind.

We instead we do memorize cheerful happy tunes, good tunes with lots of fiddly bits and happiness and joy. We whistle them in our frightened heads and hum all long:

“When they who to the sea go down and in the waters ply their toil are lifted on the surges crown and plunged where seething eddies boil…”

It give unto us poor filthy retreaters and great and grand and magnificent comfort, them we words seen, what we heard written and passed down from such many generations, from fathers and so on.

We repeat them in our heads we do, as we kept on our running, our THUDDING of feet on the filth. And we did run, and it did cost us our breath.

We all to take pleasure in finding something pointier.

We hit upon a house out there in that distance, rose up on the horizon and shone out in the darkness like a silvery space-dog out amongst the constellations. We did though keep running so, and as we passed it and glimpsed him inside, a frowning little man, we made motion with hands to signify him to move on along like us there, the smart ones, but he couldn’t get it I don’t think.

Poor him, though let us never say that we didn’t try.

I think maybe the house and him, it may have erupted way back there where we left it, but then again, we hope not. He did seem to tired there, that little man and a house. Maybe it gone all quiet for him, the days all gone and his body retreated back home where it like to belong.

We tried to keep thinking like these things, maintaining a positive mental query and holding with both hands the neck of our sanehood.

And THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD gone our feet on the filth! O, I remember it as though yesterday, yes!

We hated it, O didn’t we? All full of fear, of course we ran. Any lesser soul would’ve crumbled right there on the spot, but we did beat feet and we kept right on running from there where it split open and up he done came, right down from heaven and up from hell.

We did run on, propelled like forward by them sights and sounds and knowing our reward should we reach it.

We did though, didn’t we?

Yes, and we like it very much thank you.

Our absolute freedom as we found it, all spectacular, yes.

And we found ourselves at the top of the hill, despite we probably didn’t climb it. We not to complain, as it was welcome change and what we had looked for. Down there at the bottom we saw our waiting salvation, the water in all its glory, beckoning with its dripping arms open, tossing itself all up and down and calling us to it.

And we came running down the hill, feet THUD THUD THUD, all aching gills, and did we collapsed into the sea, to our everloving joy to forget what we seen and what did done rose up out there, back behind that house what’s probably all gone now, poor thing. We ran straight there into the water and under the waves, drifting on down all lazy and soft like meadow-grass under the flood.

We went and we hid down there as we knew we should, maintaining a distance and joining the plankton.

"Loosefish and Fastfish"

Copyright: © 2011 Josh Myers

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Josh Myers is one of them humans living in them hideous states, particularly New Jersey, specifically Lambertville. He eats and sleeps mostly, and writes like a good fishy. He’s too fat and is going to die probably. He is not him, though could be if he has to, though does he? We think not.

He is not, we repeat, NOT him.

He appears here on gracious loan from the A.B.C., thank you.

Please refer all complaints to the Consultant.