For the first time in days the mist receded and as a full moon arose the scene became one of surreal beauty among a reality of sheer horror. It was J.G. Ballard’s Crystal World become true, only with far less sophistication given the contrast of crystalline facets of perfection versus the smooth encasement of hardened
At this proximity my initial thought was smooth, not as a flow of neurons, but as a texture. That of the near twin bodies hovering above me as my eyes took focus. Breast feathers a puff, perhaps disturbed or perhaps simple in expression of disdain for the strange vision, myself, sprawled upon the floor on