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Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
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> A bust of a mouse girl. Her eyes are decorated, & she wears a loose sweater. A sigil is scrawled beneath her collarbone. Her left sleeve has fire decals on it, while the chest of the sweater features two badge-like pieces of jewelry, a face with its tongue out, & a number of hard squares running down the center. Each of them are connected with a letter, spelling “awww”. Her ear has a large hole through it. A number of blobs of a variety of colors are around her body, unclear if it is a birthmark or some tattoo.
> An icon of a cat sits in the corner. A sketch of the person sits in the corner. That same sigil is just to the right of her. Below it sits an counter with a segmented display, reading 10/23. There are two text boxes around her, reading:
> “Meet you on slime. I’m made of talc.”
> “how many giants i had burned, for my shallow speleogenesis
> if this stone were to hate me, i would never blame it
> if the mantle would soon halt me, i would never blame it”
***
In one swift motion, a hole was painlessly punched through my ear by the machine. A chunk of ptalic flesh, gone. My friend laugh, & I tried following suit. But it struck me as odd, how disposable this body was. How vulnerable it was, in a world of so-called deathlessness.
The machine steamed & breathed. Whining & huffing. When my friend finished extracting their amusement, they floated their hand in vague gesture. They said we should go ahead & break open some cells to take care of the hole. I nodded instinctively. I said no. I felt like I wanted to keep it. I couldn’t explain it to them.
It was a sour night after that, & a shifted time ever after. My disposition was different. I don’t talk to them anymore. It is awkward for them, anytime they see the hole still. They feel almost like I’m accusatory of them, bitter with them. Plainly, I haven’t been able to communicate my thoughts on anything enough to explain to them that this was not the case. I was thankful for that night. Something was revealed to me, something I have not been able to well process or convey, but something I felt core to me. Something I felt should be core to more people.
> An icon of a cat sits in the corner. A sketch of the person sits in the corner. That same sigil is just to the right of her. Below it sits an counter with a segmented display, reading 10/23. There are two text boxes around her, reading:
> “Meet you on slime. I’m made of talc.”
> “how many giants i had burned, for my shallow speleogenesis
> if this stone were to hate me, i would never blame it
> if the mantle would soon halt me, i would never blame it”
***
In one swift motion, a hole was painlessly punched through my ear by the machine. A chunk of ptalic flesh, gone. My friend laugh, & I tried following suit. But it struck me as odd, how disposable this body was. How vulnerable it was, in a world of so-called deathlessness.
The machine steamed & breathed. Whining & huffing. When my friend finished extracting their amusement, they floated their hand in vague gesture. They said we should go ahead & break open some cells to take care of the hole. I nodded instinctively. I said no. I felt like I wanted to keep it. I couldn’t explain it to them.
It was a sour night after that, & a shifted time ever after. My disposition was different. I don’t talk to them anymore. It is awkward for them, anytime they see the hole still. They feel almost like I’m accusatory of them, bitter with them. Plainly, I haven’t been able to communicate my thoughts on anything enough to explain to them that this was not the case. I was thankful for that night. Something was revealed to me, something I have not been able to well process or convey, but something I felt core to me. Something I felt should be core to more people.
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Mouse
Size 1036 x 978px
File Size 1.37 MB
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