Terence, Mephisto & Viscera Eyes by Chris Kelso

Author:Chris Kelso [Kelso, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Chris Kelso, ebook, QuarkXPress
Publisher: Bizarro Pulp Press
Published: 2014-08-20T04:00:00+00:00

BIRTH, SEX, DEATH, STIGMATA

Lizzy Stride . . .

. . . and then she became the first woman. Regenerated from basic cells, stardust and clay, she was a miracle of beauty, a template mould hidden behind a burka and oppressive Djeballa. Her mouth silenced by a veil. She had been born then instantly hidden and shame was her first definable emotion.

Men in reed hats still saw fit to leer from stalls, their faces stuffed like geese—or at least they looked like men upon first glance. Closer observations would reveal their true heritage. ‘The Broods’ they were called, extants of the original epoch. They were apelike creatures who roamed the desert pavements and dunes in travelling kiosks. They became gibbering atrocities in the presence of virginal perfume.

Lizzy walked through the ancient city still swathed in amniotic latex. Her bare toes wriggled through leather slippers and the Broods lifted from their stools and leaned in. She did not yet know her body but was aware of the pulse between her thighs. The entire Kasbah became aware of it too.

An aboriginal-looking vendor called Druitt appeared and began prattling in a primitive tongue. He was gesturing to a southerly protuberance. Lizzy followed his long, wart-thrown fingers and met the winking, weeping eye of his cock. This was the first time she had seen a cock. It coiled ever upwards in her presence; Druitt wanted to impale her with it. Slowly he moved towards Lizzy. He reached for her orange shawl and tugged it free of her shoulders.

—You fuck dogs, so you can fuck this?—Druitt said in passing indictment.

He tugged at the scarlet ball at the end of his shaft and leered.

—I don’t fuck dogs—Lizzy hated that these were the first words she ever released into the air. She wanted to stuff them back into her mouth.

—You fuck dogs. You have long hair and strange unnatural swellings and a smell of poverty about you… the kind who can afford to fuck only dogs.

—I . . .

—Touch it . . .

Lizzy obediently motioned her hand towards the cock. The arid planes were ghostly silent, viscera eyes watched without blinking.

—I have to fill you full of this fluid see, to fill the half-deflated doll of your body; the only thing that could breathe life and fullness into your wrinkled, comatose husk is my spermatic solution.

An inch from Druitt’s cock, the report of a rifle halted everything in its tracks . . .

A figure on a camel stood in the far reaches of a rock outcrop, a caravan of nomads trailing behind him with their flock. They came down to the city, The Broods glared hatefully as they made their way past the cordon of boulders. The men looked human. The figure with the rifle looked very human in fact, as did his followers. Druitt began furiously masturbating, swearing under his breath. He gushed forth a kind of ejaculation as protest. The group of men approached Lizzy.

—Druitt doesn’t know what he’s doing, and neither do you. He doesn’t know shit from shinola, a sad student of impotent Ostrog’s teachings.

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