The Shadows of Flies
I had to tell you something important. Something you shouldn’t go another instant without hearing, because if you do, you may not make it to the instant after. This piece of information is a lifetime’s worth of nourishment. To go without it means starvation. Your suddenly skeletal body will shuck and jive for a few seconds before collapsing, dead.
The problem is, I’ve forgotten what it is I have to tell you. That lifetime of nourishment, that something important? I can’t remember what it is. Trying to remember is like following the shadows of flies. Whatever it is–this fact, this truth–it has something to do with a soundtrack. Names shift in and out of my mind with no perceived connections. If I can find Marty Raft or Naomi Santrel, they’d know.
There’s something about auras and screamers, head hopping and indigo children, but none of it wakes my mind. Beofre it can make any sense, it disappears. Like the shadows of flies.