Dot in the Sky (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dotinthesky) wrote2003-08-11 04:59 pm
dotinthesky) wrote2003-08-11 04:59 pm
A Town Called Malice
Malice's mutation began on a day like any other. She'd arrived home from work, with Mark, and settled down with a Bud on their front portch, waiting for the weekend to begin. Instead, an itching grew. She stretched her legs as far as she could, dug her nails into the skin that seemed crawling with ants, and lay the cold bottle of beer on her forehead to keep herself awake. Mark watched her calmly, petting his ball python Charlie. As Charlie curled itself around Mark's forearms, Malice looked at him in despair and moaned "there's something wrong with my legs!"
He took Charlie back to its aquarium and returned to her side. Malice had fallen off her chair and lay on the wooden portch, writhing like a Pentecostal. Mark thought she was joking, and would have probably finished off her bottle of beer if she hadn't started hitting the chairs with her flailing legs and cursing the world. He tried to hold her down. Then he saw it, jutting out of her right kneecap: a miniscule street sign. It was hard as metal. He pulled it out and tried to read the tiny letters on it. Underneath his other arm, his bride wriggled and gasped. The tiny street sign said: "welcome to Malice."
He carried her inside and lay her on their king-sized bed. Charlie, now safe in his aquarium, slithered closer to a tiny rodent left in there for his supper, disinterested with what was happening to his mistress. Malice tore through the bed sheets and humped the mattress like a honeymooner. Mark felt like crying. He called his friends in Synesthesia, the band he fronted, but they laughed and accused him of smoking crack; he tried to reach Keleigh but she wasn't home yet. The only person home was his father:
"I told you son that the Apocalypse was upon us! It was only my luck that my child would be the father of the Beast."
"But... she's not pregnant. She's having an epileptic fit."
"Call the hospital then! And tell her to quiet down."
Mark returned to Malice's side: her Tshirt had ripped and from her stomach grew a toy-sized municipal building.
He screamed in disbelief and ran out of the bedroom. The neighbours, never too keen on the couple, came out of their homes to complain about the noise. They glared at Mark disapprovingly, as if they'd been expecting the day when he'd run out of his home with tears down his cheeks while Malice, in the bedroom, hurled insults and curses at the world.
The police weren't called until what appeared to be a lamp post smashed through the bedroom window. Curled around the lamp was a surprised ball python.
****
In three hours, three unconnected people had sold their stories to Tierra Santa's community newspapers. Rumours began to circulate in California that something bizarre was happening in the outskirts of San Diego. Still today, nobody knows who posted the first photos on Livejournal. By then, the houses on the street had been brought down by the powerful new structures emerging from Malice.
From afar, Mark watched his beloved take over San Diego. Strip malls were dissected by her nails and turned into communal gardens, corporations crumbled under the weight of her eye-lashes and rows of fast food joints imploded as her new bike lanes fell over them. Tierra Santa's inhabitants stood aside to all of this, numbed and disbelieving, unable to understand why a new town had to appear and destroy their way of life.
In years to come, the people in the region grew accustomed to living in Malice. Tourists from as far away as Japan came to the town, to photograph the street signs, the marquees, the statues, but most importantly, to gape at a bearded man who claimed to have once been engaged to the town and about to marry it.
He took Charlie back to its aquarium and returned to her side. Malice had fallen off her chair and lay on the wooden portch, writhing like a Pentecostal. Mark thought she was joking, and would have probably finished off her bottle of beer if she hadn't started hitting the chairs with her flailing legs and cursing the world. He tried to hold her down. Then he saw it, jutting out of her right kneecap: a miniscule street sign. It was hard as metal. He pulled it out and tried to read the tiny letters on it. Underneath his other arm, his bride wriggled and gasped. The tiny street sign said: "welcome to Malice."
He carried her inside and lay her on their king-sized bed. Charlie, now safe in his aquarium, slithered closer to a tiny rodent left in there for his supper, disinterested with what was happening to his mistress. Malice tore through the bed sheets and humped the mattress like a honeymooner. Mark felt like crying. He called his friends in Synesthesia, the band he fronted, but they laughed and accused him of smoking crack; he tried to reach Keleigh but she wasn't home yet. The only person home was his father:
"I told you son that the Apocalypse was upon us! It was only my luck that my child would be the father of the Beast."
"But... she's not pregnant. She's having an epileptic fit."
"Call the hospital then! And tell her to quiet down."
Mark returned to Malice's side: her Tshirt had ripped and from her stomach grew a toy-sized municipal building.
He screamed in disbelief and ran out of the bedroom. The neighbours, never too keen on the couple, came out of their homes to complain about the noise. They glared at Mark disapprovingly, as if they'd been expecting the day when he'd run out of his home with tears down his cheeks while Malice, in the bedroom, hurled insults and curses at the world.
The police weren't called until what appeared to be a lamp post smashed through the bedroom window. Curled around the lamp was a surprised ball python.
****
In three hours, three unconnected people had sold their stories to Tierra Santa's community newspapers. Rumours began to circulate in California that something bizarre was happening in the outskirts of San Diego. Still today, nobody knows who posted the first photos on Livejournal. By then, the houses on the street had been brought down by the powerful new structures emerging from Malice.
From afar, Mark watched his beloved take over San Diego. Strip malls were dissected by her nails and turned into communal gardens, corporations crumbled under the weight of her eye-lashes and rows of fast food joints imploded as her new bike lanes fell over them. Tierra Santa's inhabitants stood aside to all of this, numbed and disbelieving, unable to understand why a new town had to appear and destroy their way of life.
In years to come, the people in the region grew accustomed to living in Malice. Tourists from as far away as Japan came to the town, to photograph the street signs, the marquees, the statues, but most importantly, to gape at a bearded man who claimed to have once been engaged to the town and about to marry it.
no subject
:oD