{fon:hom11ff00 }
SWIRL
{fon:tri }

 In the room the curtain was open but the blinds were drawn so that
although the room was still lit, no one could see what was going on
inside.
 He lay back on the bed, interlocking fingers sandwiched between his
head and the soft, fluffy pillows which felt so cool against the back
of his hands. His eyes were open wide and he traced the cracks and
ripples above him; Slender paint-tendrils running across the length
and width of the blue painted ceiling like the veins on some huge
monsters' back. Synthetic organic.
 He then closed his eyes, becoming completely calm. Outside the room,
the bustle and birdsong of daily life faded into an ignored murmur,
still there but briefly unimportant in the room and thus, a low
background noise barely audible. The unseen sun emerged form early
winter clouds, lighting the room further and warming it near
instantly by several degrees. The birds outside strengthened their
foot-hold by increasing the beauty of their songs. Relaxation fell
over the room like a thin layer of dust stifling both normality and
urgency.
 He let his mind drift away on a gentle tide of none-thought,
consciousness dislodging.-Not dislodging from his body, but from the
outside.
 Only random flashes of electrified brain-chemistry reminded him of
the worlds existence with tiny bursts of sun-yellow heat and
birdsong. No longer was the pressure of his gravity upon the bed and
the weight of his head registering, only the mild , warm sensation of
separation, tethered to the quayside of the world merely by the fine
line of the bird's chirps and cooings carried upon a stream of
photons.
 Just over six feet above his head the ceiling began to ripple
slightly. Gradually the the paint began to liquefy into a sticky,
lapping consistency and yet stayed on the ceiling as if through shear
determination or a lack of respect for the forces of gravity. The
cracks and ripples had both multiplied and solidified to thin,
stringy tentacles barely concealed beneath the blue chemical goo.
Organic feelers and tentacles writhing through and beneath the liquid
pseudo-gossamer in a sensual maelstrom-dance with their own
discordian rhythms. 
 A slowing, a focus, and the tendrils began to interact with new
purpose. Slowly, almost lazily the tendrils that had been so content
in their mingled chaotic dance with one another started to emerge
uncovered from smooth, lapping paint; Sinewy veins of red and blue
lowering gracefully from the ceiling into the warm, defused light of
the room untangling into thick, straight bunches converging above
him. The veins were joined by more of either red or blue colour and
of slightly varying thickness on their slow and deliberate journey
towards the male that lay so peacefully on the bed. About three
inches above him there was hesitancy. They hanged, waiting to
inverted attention, chaotic and also communal, proud looking in their
new, rigid state.
 The vein-things knew where to go, individuals working together, now
a  thick batch fully the size of the king size single bed on which he
lay. They raised, drawing back a full two feet. After a few seconds
of inactivity thicker veins, about the size of arteries descended, no
more than thirty in number, dividing into groups of five, each group
going to different areas of his body. Two groups moved to his outer
thighs on either side, two to his mid section and two to his
upper-arms. They began tentatively feeling him ; The roughness of his
jeans, his ribs through his T-Shirt and the skin of his arms,
spreading slightly, attempting to push between his body and the bed.
 He felt the veins, gentle and nervous on him, but was not at all
panicking. He had been secretly expecting this to happen for what was
perhaps the longest time. He had been waiting. Consciously or
subconsciously he wasn't sure. He was perfectly calm and comfortable,
except the veins were tickling slightly, especially on his sensitive
upper-arms. When the veins had worked themselves under him, and
curled around enough to provide a firm grip, nearly one hundred more
slender veins descended, the arteries lifted him a little and the
smaller veins converged on other parts of him on all sides, going
under and around the outer extremities of his limbs, his torso,
waist, hands, feet and finally the ten or so left of the mobilized
force cradled his lolling head. Lifting it slightly to once again
flatten him out. His relaxation increased. He could feel the blood
coursing through these veins, a half-heard flow mixing with his heart
beat; slightly strengthening the tether on his mind, allowing him to
drift a little further. They were slightly firm, reassuring, and warm
through his clothes and against his skin. He lay back content like a
babe in his mother's arms. Those veins that had not been needed began
to disappear back into the blue syrup as the ones which held him mere
inches above the bed improved their hold. Once the other had
retreated into the ceiling he felt the arteries relax and tense, then
he was slowly drawn up to the ceiling, into it, and then he was gone.   

{spr:l07 }  
{end }


