Spires of onyx. Cathedrals like vines that lashed up to a sky awash in lights. Whoever she was here was just as taken by the scene, looking around as if in a daze. A voice in her head called her Chaucher, and told her to run. Nine beings awash in light rose up like a choir, their Remarks together equaled a pure brightness that seared her eyes. The body she was in gasped and backpedaled. They slipped on a puddle, the roof was slippery. She couldn’t really blame the body as it fell and she-

  -was brought to by the sound of laughter. In a large beige room women dressed as dancers (in feathers and scales) towered over her. They were laughing, and she knew she deserved it. With long velvet fingers they guided her head down to a fleshy opening in the tacky wallpaper. “This is the only way you can be redeemed.” a voice in her head said (the experience strangely familiar). The body crawled through and suddenly everything went purple. She was being reconstituted into something greater but before the process could be complete and she could be saved they-

  -were jumping from stone to stone in a raging waterfall, remarkably skilled. A woman’s skull was nestled on her shoulder. It was whispering in scents. A voice in her head counted down. “Too much time,” she heard the body bark, “too little time. It’s not right. It’s not right.” A stream of air displaced a large selection of the water. The body buckled and she felt her heart drop, or the body’s, it occurred to there was less of a distinction between her and the body’s experience’s (falling falling, down to a door of all the answers which is closing too fast or too slow) as this was, effectively-

  -her own experiences, or now were. She was in a box now, her breath erratic. A voice was apologizing (Adam, it was Adam.) As when she looked back on these past hosts she would view their deaths as her own. Now the box was on fire. Now-

  -in front of a cupboard, an open box of prescription medication. Somehow she knew what that was, all the context had been granted to her. She knew she had eaten far too much. She turned to the mirror and saw she was a haggard man, a little older than her father. “Let me have this, let me have this” The man said through her throat. Her lips went numb. Adam was silent.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Now she was in a freaking limo??? Hahhhhhh grand yeah!! This is so cool. The seats were plush, the windows tinted. She looked at her clothes, pretty snazzy. Snazzy guy like her, it totally fit. Someone motioned to roll down the window. She did so, though it was not her decision. When the man drew a Remark in the shape of a gun she did not react. Why would she? Now a-

  -play. Watched over by a man (squat and serious), on top a mountain of chairs (white and foldable). Adam, the voice of a caustic alto, whispered lines she repeated on a five second delay. She sputtered out the wrong line, and barfed out floatrats before coming to a-

  Ends come from beginnings that will lead to new tomorrows. This is assuming you can put down the five billion dollar deposit that having a future requires. Blue sky, green ground. The geodesic domes are in bloom today. Their shattered carapaces are rung with flowers of purples and reds and oranges and greens. A crowd cheers the arrival of a zeppelin. She dies alone.

  Catch a tiger by it’s tail, if it hollers let it go. She did not know what a tiger was. She experiences three deaths in rapid succession. Bisected, to think it had happened thrice. Maybe she would be the forth. Mortality is a daily concern, it would happen to her, and now among a death chronology was the time to ponder that.

  Hmmm. Maybe she wouldn’t.

  She froze to death next to a lever she couldn’t reach. Adam was apologizing. In so many of these he was apologizing.

  They got abstract and blurry, voices sounded like static. Abstract shapes that yelled and bled.

  This went on for years.

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