Vertigo Monologue

When the stars died, they left their memory with her. Look at the young woman as she traces her dull eyes along the endless space. Vertigo lays a veil upon her expression. Chalk dusts the sky and its particles whirl into gentle rings. Fine shards of illumination glimmer from the distending rift overhead. The night lights wink upon her while bursting out as brilliant white. Matter dissolves pale over the ink plane. Sweeps of silver fabric unlace above the drift. The mousy film on the horizon begins to bleed away as her vision stammers somewhat before recovering. Someplace distant a voice hums a single iteration of speech, albeit indiscernible.

A certain shade of gray washes over the hills. Dull masses of ash, soot and sand drape the ground in soft tides. The young woman lays close-mouthed as does the stillness of sound. She extends her right hand to

grasp at the stars. Ash dusts her palms and sieves over her body in a flurry. The nimbus purges the contents of her womb into the darkness. No amount of light exists in this moment. Darkness obscures her flesh and the sea of dust in parallel respect. Reserved in animation she withdraws her arm with disappointment because of the disappearance of light.

Consequently, the fall of the stars feeds kindling for a single breath to rise from the pith of her breast. It lasts for few moments provided that her chest falls into listless defeat, failing to rise up again.

She shifts her arms from the dust she nestles in thereupon allowing it to spill through the palms of her hands. Flicking both wrists she dismisses remnants of dust from them. Alarm gradually laces the length of her sweated brow. The stars return suddenly to their host with a hearty luster. A comet teases the skirt of the atmosphere with its fiery white cape. In response, the sky reduces into a counterclockwise spiral. Breaks of white light flare from the midpoint of the halo.

The young woman plummets into consciousness. Mites of ash dance around her shivery form. Laid out upon the litterfall of encompassing trees, the silhouette of barbed branches haze over her features. A sheen of sweat licks at her tawny, bare skin. The hair on her arms bristles upwards. Abruptly angling forwards she gags and gasps for breath while her thumb roughly trails at the skin across her neck. Her opposite hand paws at the foliage as she claws her fingers into the sediment. She pauses as to recollect herself.

Trill voices of songbirds whisper song overhead in the gray light. Leaves rustle softly against one another as the birds scatter in calculated flight away from the young woman's irradiated body. A camera dangles from a strap around the young woman’s neck. The young woman blearily rubs at her eyes. She stretches her limbs against the earth and fixes herself into a sitting position. With crossed legs, the young woman clutches the camera with the intent to sift through the images she had taken that day. She notices that the camera is recording. She does not remember starting one. Tilting her head to the slightest degree in curiosity, she reaches to stop the video.

CHAPTER 2

For a few moments, there is nothing. Faint, muffled breaths phase into the silence, although the screen rests vacant. The slight wheezing sound is snuffed out at wavering intervals. Stifled footfalls leak into the audio. Its sound is hesitant in nature. Altogether the audio wans and the camera screen flickers in malfunction. It stops. Out of the stillness, an image ascends. Two legs stand in a dull powder before being promptly flung backward onto the ground. Bursting skyward, particles dance over the frame. The camera now points towards the blooming sky with a filthy lens. A smudgy image of black and flickering white makes up the remainder of the recording. A momentary lapse thwarts the camera with a displacement of tones until the video continues. The recording shudders and the scene shift to the trees. It stops then.

The young woman traces dull stains on her palms. Her knuckles are tense as her hands occupy the camera. She remains silent even as the video has ceased playing. I thought it was a dream. She says. A dream. Her speech is nearly inaudible as she takes a low breath. She swallows thickly. The camera jostles as she raises her arms in stupefaction and withdrawal. She resorts to fitfully twiddling her thumbs in distraction. In a hushed tone, she questions. Where did I go then? Where have I been? A faint snicker simmers over her tongue. I can't remember.

Skin sallow and thin stretches over gaunt flesh like gauze. The groove of bone beneath it peek out and threaten to tear at the seams of remaining muscle. Spine arched forwards and palms fixed in sheltering the face, her motionless body fondly depicts dissonance in physical form. She disappears.

Sound begins to wade into absolute stillness. A dull humming drips into every perceivable aspect of the young woman's conscience as she comes to be. The veins of her dilate into the eternal depth of the darkness. The temporal and spatial geometry of this place baffle the young woman. It is a curious thing to spectate and yet synchronously participate inside of it. Even in disembodied form her hands carry phantom matter. Her distant fingers gently tap on a glassy pane. The throbbing of her heart delivers knots to the outside walls.

The young woman stands still with the camera held limp in hand. The balls of her feet raise from the ground while her toes lurch upwards as to inch her height closer to something she cannot reach. Her scant eyelashes tease the thin air in a flutter. From each fine thread of hair, dust begins to dance. Her lips part ever so slightly as to taste the air. Dim light flushes the scene with a silvery film. Past storms have left debris strewn in disorder about the noiseless room. Nursing the walls of the solemn room, decay consumes layers of color from its delicate paper skin. Faint traces of paint tickle the walls with pretty pink sweeps while the paper blushes warmly on occasion.

The young woman blinks twice and observes each meter of the room. When did I get here? She mouths. I don't remember. She rolls her shoulders halfway in a dispirited shrug. Flitting her eyes about she notices the camera finally. A small red light emits from its side. She lifts the camera slightly but does nothing else to it.

Her tongue briskly flickers over her lips to moisten the parched skin. The dry air swabs away its gloss in moments, deepening the creases in its frowning form. She taps at the ruin beneath her feet, unsettling a bit of the powder waste that is cloaking the room. She decisions to venture quietly into the hallway all the while brushing her palms against the shedding wall as to stabilize her steps and discourage a possible clumsy tumble upon the waste riddled floor.

A voice shivers a loud sounding like shattered glass through the hallway.

The young woman jerks upward, pressing her body firmly against the wall for support. Her eyes afford a fleeting glance into the remaining room. She sees nothing dissimilar from the room before it, save for the lack of a window. She paces to the door. Her trembling fingers tease at the rusted surface of the handle before roughly drawing it open. Behind it resides a stark darkness. Temptation trickles up the length of her spine as she peers into the void. Slightly stumbling she closes the door shut and starts back into the first chamber.

A dull frost sheets the single glass window. The young woman places her palm squarely in the center of it. Her heat accumulates onto the window in hazy wisps. She retracts her arm from the glass and frisks for the base of the window. The tips of her fingers stipple the wasted frame with prints. Placing her fingers along the seam she nudges upwards. The panel glides readily from its place. Warmth bubbles pleasantly into the air and ruffles the young women mousy tresses. A look of puzzlement carves into her

brow.

Thrusting her body through the open window, she exits the barren house. Her soiled shoes surrender to a mass of brambles. The undergrowth bites and tears at the exposed skin of her ankles. The odor of brine and a nauseating sweetness suffocates the young woman’s lungs. She pants through the sticky breeze and trails her fingers through her hair. She can see the water glistening in monochrome facets beyond the horizon. It produces a dull humming noise as smoky water whips froth over dark grain. In stride for the sea, she thrusts her heels deep into the black and velvet sand.

The sober skyline bathes in the subdued color of blushing rose petals and pollen. A familiar haze envelopes the young woman. Puffs of pale pink swell over the sand dunes. In loose tufts, the smoke spools around her body. Her spindly legs take to falling awkwardly behind in sudden fatigue. Head tottering she tries to refrain from collapsing entirely. Ultimately her eyelids droop with the succumb to rest. The ocean hums a lullaby to the young woman as she sleeps with her head over the pillow shore. Pink cotton and feather down swaddles her feeble limbs into a dream.

CHAPTER 3

A bell chime sounds deftly in the trees. Glittering leaves scatter above silver mottled tree trunks like gold flakes. The colors melt softly into the young woman's skin as the sun shimmers it's light through niches in the canopy. She treads gradually along a dirt path. Her feet mark shallow trails in the soil behind her. The space between each timber set themselves evenly apart from one another. No sound disturbs the silence in this place. The cry of aviary nor the rustling of leaves through a breeze can be perceived. Even the ticking of her heart and fluttering breath seem too timid to compose a sound.

The woman's gait falters to an uneasy motion. She draws her arms over her chest as to provide a barrier between herself and the outside. Her elbows prod at the bulk of her camera as the rise and fall of her chest shifts her bones. She stops. Her eyes flirt anxiously with the endless forest. She cannot detect a uniqueness in the landscape, save for the footprints she has left behind. Standing alone, she cranes her neck to catch the sunlight.

In the distance, a figure is standing adjacent to a tree. The young woman does not see it. She turns around and starts back where she came from. Each step is placed back into a previously created print. Every step that is taken does not get her anywhere. The forest appears to be the same. Her footprints diminish as she goes on. Looking behind her, she takes notice of this. Lifting a foot, she presses it firmly atop the ground. She shifts her leg to see that there is no mark. The young woman arches her lips into a small smile.

The figure starts towards the young woman. It is humanoid in proportion, similar in build and height to the young woman it now stands parallel with. Its ashen flesh wears a skin of dust and smoke. Writhing motes of ash clothe the being consummately. The young woman's lungs are asphyxiated by the pollution the body bleeds out. The monster seizes its hand gingerly upon the young woman's shoulder. The young woman falls to the ground unconscious. They disappear.

The young woman wakes up tucked beneath the covers of a bed. Her complexion is doused in a softened pewter tone. Soot smears the length of her arms and palms like ink. Her hands stain the fabric black. Her tarnished cheeks blot ash atop the pillow. She drowsily handles the covers, pulling it away from her body. Specks fall from her hair, therefore, peppering the fabric with more filth. She stirs to rouse herself from the intoxicating effects rendered from sleep but her legs tremble with each movement.

Again, she slips out of space. Her figure dissolves into a black plane and materializes into consciousness in a cradle of dust. Particles who unsettle from beneath her fluster the air. Flickering copper mites levitate in the space above her head. They bow to tease at her face and dust her skin with their fluttering wings. She rises.

Their light trails off into the distance. They guide the young woman across the drift. Her steps are swept away by a soundless storm. Her outer skin crumbles into the whirling wind and leaves her nearly raw. Her veins bleed dust into the breathing gale. Despite that her body is breaking apart she persists.

The young woman breaches two dimensions simultaneously. After the first forceful wind undresses the dust from her skin, she stretches her body against the brink. The cusp shatters under the stress and rips its teeth indiscriminately through her flesh. She spills from plane to plane in several irregular breaks until the falling ceases. The young woman lolls on a gradient of star dust. It folds into her tissue as her lungs collapse under the pressure of her breath. Lolling atop a gradient of star dust the young woman

CHAPTER 4

The young woman marches for miles along the crescent arc. Eyes whose tone are identical to the horizon nullifies any physical gesture of emotion from the young woman's face. Her fingernails scrape at the dust haze forming around her. It swells around her sides as a curtain mass. It does not ask her to sleep.

Her eyelids do not fall into rest. Traveling with the storm the young woman gazes upon the cinder flakes falling from above. They sweep over her head and spin around her again. Flickering, they lead her in dance like a faraway memory. As the ash melts onto her tongue, her mouth is bitter with the taste of blood.

Her teeth pierce the brittle membrane dressing her lips. She chews it until the dust trickles down the corners of her smile. The hills metamorphose from dusk to sheer golden ribbons of light. A gentle wind breathes softly upon her neck as the horizon develops clarity.

The sea of sand motions with churning tides around the young woman's ankles. The tender light outlines the silhouette of trees against the sky. Roots pull sand beneath their massive trunks. Silver lace stitches through the infinite length of the forest seam. She crosses over the fault.

Pale paper sheets hug at each tree and curl outwards while they shed. It crinkles beneath her touch as she lightly brushes her hand over the delicate bark. Paper flakes sprinkle gradually upon the black earth.

Finely spun strands of silk hang in braided streams across the stone ceiling. Silver light breaks out in dim strings from each fissure in the wall. Light is cast upon each thread. Each fine thread basks in the dim after light.