I keep dreaming I’m going over a cliff in something.  Every night.  Sometimes it’s not a big deal and sometimes I’m gonna die.  I’m always going over a cliff.

The scariest thing about “Man In Picture” is that he just keeps coming.  He never stops.  Once he begins, it never ends.  He is always there.  Relentless.  Nothing to do but deal with him directly until I win or lose.  You should look it up on this very blog under that title in quotes.  “Man In Picture”.  On the right hand side under categories.  It’s the first draft of a novel I intend to start a rewrite on very soon.

It’s crude and raw with an under developed plot and narrative.  The bones are there though.

It was disturbing for me when I wrote it.  I’m going to make it a book soon.  Now would be a good time for you all to weigh in and tell me what you think it needs.  I’m pretty sure I already know.

The worse sensation I can imagine is of thick ropey hairs bursting through my dermis.  Sharp muscular rigid worms.  I see it happening slower than in a movie.  Way slower.  My flesh opens at a rate that allows me to hear it.  The sound of knuckles popping, Rice Krispies and heavy wet fabric tearing.  Canvas, maybe burlap.

Blood flies and floats because it’s happening so slow.

It sears, aches and itches.

It burns.  It crawls.

Sometimes it toggles between hard pleasure and soft pain before it talks me in and out of a waking nightmare.

This happens to me in a hospital bed under a dim blue light.  I’m there for another life threatening reason.  Flesh eating virus.  I’m already horrified as the disease eats it’s way up my torso.  Now this.  There’s a sheet over me but with each smack and crackle the linens bloom red.

Saw something hanging from his ear until I realized it was the zipper on his coat.

Join me.

Drinks for my friends.

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