The Boy Who Saw Blobs by Claire Fletcher

Written by Lazy Garmophone Press on Sunday the 24th of January 2010

And so it continued after that night. The Blobs were here to stay; he had long accepted that. Despite the occasional moments of frustration, the intense bouts of confusion, The Blobs also brought an all consuming feeling of focus and peace to his senses:

The Blobs found him, the lost-and-long-wandering Boy, they collected his scattered thoughts and cradled his troubled head; they soothed his aching limbs and gave fluidity to his movements. They seemed to bridge the endless and throbbing rift between his world and that world of Others. No longer stagnant, he now danced through the in-betweens with ease. All things appeared possible, words came, promises were made; he no longer felt alone.

The Blobs had travelled slowly and succinctly, unbeknown to him on that night, seventeen moon phases ago.

He had opened his eyes to find the moonlight streaming in through his naked window. Entranced, he gasped as the moon's light bathed the blimpy Blobs, depicting their intricate and seemingly porous surfaces through light and shadow.

He sat up and tried to focus his sleep seeped eyes. The Blobs were suspended in air, hovering everywhere. He rubbed his eyes; opened them; The Blobs remained: vicarious and purposeful.

All, from large to small, had come for him; their undulating and craterous surfaces enticing the spirit of adventure from inside The Boy. They were looking at him, willing the opening of his arms.

It was from within his exalted state of amazement that The Boy allowed the etching of these beings upon his consciousness. Never before had he felt such empathy, so utterly understood. He opened his arms and permitted them passage to his heart.

Ecstatically sated, The Boy closed his eyes and returned to his dreaming, hugging to himself the knowledge that he had, at last, been found. 

He awoke to find that the etching of The Blobs had, so indelibly, been made upon his waking state. They followed in his gaze, steadied his hands and soothed his crackling nerves.

And it was in this way, that The Boy carried the presence of The Blobs with him through all.

Revealing their existence, they began to filter through him; from thoughts and doodles to dreams and drawings.

Slowly and succinctly, The Blobs began to take over, to steadily remove The Boy from the atmosphere around him.

Withdrawn now, into a world of concentrated forms, The Boy became abstracted.

Happy for a time to be thusly removed, The Boy breathed and lived. The Blobs were all and everything to him, he bathed in their shadows.

A while down this path, bruised and jolting, he awoke to find that The Blobs had wrapped themselves around his skin. Clinging to his ribs and clogging his senses, they were suffocating him. Once again lost, red-eyed and tingling, The Boy had forgotten who he was and where he was going. 

His one love now instantaneously his one hate.

Teeth clenched, a vile anger sprung to his limbs, The Boy jumped up. 

With one sweep of his itching and exposed arms, he flung The Blob structures to the floor.

They fell with great weight and reverberating echoes.

Shattered and powerless, The Blobs dissolved from view. In their wake, at last released from the shackles he had tied to himself, The Boy emerged from their shadows.

Finally free, forlorn and flabbergasted, The Boy lay naked and panting on the floor. A slow mixture of dread and ecstasy immersed his atoms, as the reality of his liberation began. So long had his mind been possessed by these beings; his hunger been their hunger, his love their love; even his breath, theirs.

At last, he had been stripped of all, right down to the core of his Self.

Now what? thought The Boy, relieved.

Tags for this post: claire, fletcher, blobs, book, apertures.

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Title: Claire Fletcher reading The Boy Who Saw Blobs
By: LazyGramophone
Lazy Says: Claire Fletcher
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