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The Green Dragon

Aileen Blum

 

Closing her eyes, she placed the red bean on her tongue.

A fluorescent lamp swung over the metallic slab upon which she lay sprawled,

her hands by her eyes,

her knees unnaturally twisted,

and her skin thin and transparent.

Grey-blue veins

mapped a civilization out over her belly

and underneath,

 a womb could be seen,

pulsating.

He bent over her.

Whispering in her ear to see if she woke,

gleaming,

he went to work. Together,

with her under his hands, he felt

he could do it.

He lovingly peeled back the layers,

gently filleted her skin,

and selfishly ravished her muscles until rivulets splashed to the floor.

Ah, the seed.

A hemostat found its way into his sticky fingers and he plunged in.

A red ocean lay under his heels,

but somehow, anew,

thick and warm streams spiraled

out of the pink walls and hid his hand from sight.

The incisions began to convulse,

wildly twitching and

sucking

at his wrists,

but he dug further.

Shutting his eyes,

he felt it.

Snapping down with the hemostat

hard,

he gave a great wrench and out loosed a pulpy lump.

A table leg snapped.

Stepping back triumphant with the seed

beating in his palm,

he did not notice the body

slip off the table

and into the crimson pools below.

He turned his back.

A thunderous crack snapped overhead

and the ceiling caved in revealing

a tumultuous sea

raging and threatening to swallow the room.

Her body rocked on the red sea below.

The waters reached up to

his knees.

Another crack.

He dropped the seed.

Another crack, this time beneath.

He had turned around to watch

this time. Foaming

red waters spit into a boil.

A small green sprout slithered

from the current,

up for air,

a leaf for its head.

It turned

towards him and tilted.

Another crack

and it was summoned.

No longer waiting,

it burst

forth. The lanky vine swelled into bulging sinewy fibers,

twisting,

shuddering,

passing

rain down its spine.

It curled

and it spiraled

upward,

twitching and exhaling

fresh cold breaths into an atmosphere scorched

by the bolts.

And then, it was gone.

The man fell to his knees,

up to his neck in blood,

and with his hemostat in hand,

cured himself of his blindness.