Corvid
Nov 15, 2022 21:26:04 GMT -5
Post by filthburger on Nov 15, 2022 21:26:04 GMT -5
This is a story I wrote in like 2018 partially as an exercise in using short sentences/trying to do a lot with a little and partially for the purposes of being either read live or sampled for a noise set. I have both an original and a layered/altered recording of the reading somewhere, and I may post either of those in the proper board later.
Title: Corvid
Author: KT Violet
Genre(s): Surreal Horror, Body Horror
Summary: There is an uninvited crow, and he is very rude
Content warning(s): Not applicable
Author: KT Violet
Genre(s): Surreal Horror, Body Horror
Summary: There is an uninvited crow, and he is very rude
Content warning(s): Not applicable
My house breathes freely. It is relieved of clutter. My succulents drink by the window. My books are shelved alphabetically. I am setting out plates and wine glasses. I am excited to share dinner with my friends.
I hear a knock. I am excited to share dinner with my friends.I open the door. I do not see my friends.
There is a crow on the welcome mat. He tilts his head at me. He tells me he wants to come inside. He is not one of my friends, but I am a gracious host. I lead him to my dining room. I pull out a chair for him. Corvids do not usually sit in chairs, but I am polite. He perches in the seat, and he stares at me.
I offer the corvid a glass of Bota, but he has no interest. The corvid has a long way to go. The corvid wants to be clear-headed. I offer the corvid a bit of the casserole that is for the dinner party. He has no interest. I am relieved. It is poor taste to offer guests an incomplete meal.
The corvid requests a box of cheez-it's. It is a request I cannot fulfill. I have a half-sleeve of saltines. I hope it is sufficient. The corvid accepts. It will have to do.
It is an upsetting experience to watch a crow crush saltines with his beak. The sound a crow makes as he forces saltine crumbs down his gullet is regrettable. I am sitting across from him. I am eager for him to finish. I am excited to share dinner with my friends.
The corvid tosses the sleeve aside. He is finished but he is not. I am impatient, but I am a gracious host. I tell the corvid he is welcome to what he can find. I tell the corvid there is not much time, and I am expecting guests. The corvid perches himself on the table. He is impolite. He is demanding. I am ready to throw this bird through my window.
I want to stand up and tell the corvid he is being unreasonable. When I try, I am weak. I am stuck in my seat. The corvid stands in his spot in the middle of my table. I want to yell, but my lips are congealed. The corvid is staring at me and I am staring at him.
My eyes are crying. My mouth is drooling. My nose is bleeding. I feel discharge drip out of my ears and down onto my neck. My pores are wide open. Every part of me that can leak is leaking. I don't know where the boundaries of things are. I am looking at a corvid's hungry eyes.
My skin is bruising. My joints are losing meaning. My hair is falling down in patches. It cannot fit into the soft thing that I am about to become.
From my dining room chair, I feel my veins become porous. I feel my bones leak marrow. My skin droops, and my callouses slough away. I do not understand the boundaries of things. I am excited for something. It is difficult to remember what. There are friends. I see a corvid in front of me. He looks hungry. It is so convenient that I am about to be easy to digest. I am a gracious host.