I soak for the rest of the day dozing in and out of sleep. The beast usually arrives at daybreak, so I do most of my work at night. The moonbeams can’t penetrate the overcast so well, but I can weave with my eyes closed if I want to. In a few days or weeks, I finish the hammock and all the supporting vines I will need. Finafuckenlly I can get some peace. I slide a tree branch about 4 meters long through the hollow lip I made at either ends of the hammock to hold its form. I loop a vine through both lips. I tie another vine on each end of the two branches. On one end of the hammock, I take 3 meters of the four assorted vines and connect them in a knot; so that a triangle is formed. I do the same at the opposite end. I fashion the remaining slack extending from the top of the knot, around the tree s midsection. I walk the hammock around the shallow ends of the pool to attach it to the tree across the way. I carry it, extending my arms fully upward to prevent the vines from touching the solution. As I walk, the hammock stretches out and positions itself in the center of the pool. I closely monitor the slack to prevent it from even grazing the pool s surface. I reach the other tree and secure the hammock. I pause for a moment to marvel at my work. It’s about 15 to 20 meters from the tree to the top of the hammock. I take another set of vines. I weave them in and out, vertically and horizontally, across the supporting vines and form a tight net. Sure. It would be easier to weave on top. But I work better numb. Weaving under allows me to stay in the pool. I keep my upper body above the surface with a slow and steady eggbeater kick. I continue weaving until I reach the hammock. The net is just in case the beast shows up while I’m detoxing. Returning to the pool too early can be excruciating. This way, I can crabwalk down the net, and rest in my hammock until he leaves. I swim back to shore to detoxify myself before starting the next task. I lay on the earth for a bit, forcing myself to take deep breaths. I have to face the burning before I can work again. I say grace over and over in my head to distract myself as my muscles contract and tremor. I choke on the air I pull in as it ravages my dry throat. This is the only time I remember thirst. I have to keep water on reserve. Otherwise, there is no way to avoid the agony.
I crawl to my canteen like an infant with arthritis. My muscles are either fighting for, or against me; it’s hard to say. When the water reaches my lips, and drains down my throat, it feels like a whorespasm wait, what's the word? Orgasm. It feels like an orgasm.
Once the pain is bearable, I return to work for a short while until it is time to soak again. In a rare moment of clarity, I realize I forgot to coat the hammock and vines in wax. This will protect the vines in case I get solution on it. So that I can sleep in peace again, I plan to sleep in the hammock. I'll only have to return to shore to detox and occasionally get water. I don t want
to risk detoxing on the hammock until I’m sure the solution won’t eat the wax overtime. That’s why I must protect the hammock, so I may sleep and soak in peace. I don t remember why, but I've always had the wax. I've never had use for it until now. Using my bare hands, I cover every inch of the vines that wrap the tree. I then hoist myself up
onto the net, and continue to coat the rest. I try not to rush the job in anticipation of the next soak. I coat every inch of the vines. But I have to tread under the hammock to coat its underbelly. I stay in a fairly stable position if I don t kick too fast. I spend the next few days coating, soaking, coating and soaking Now that all work is done, I sway in the hammock and sip my canteen. Who said the end of the world had to be terrible? This is the life! I've lost all awareness. Its pure piss wait, what’s the word? Bliss. It’s pure bliss.
I spend weeks or months swaying and soaking. It’s been awhile since I've thought about the beast. There have been a few times when he has come half way between the horizon and my pool, but I just shrug it off in arrogance.
~ " ~
This is the dream, lying in a hammock over your own private pool, not a care in the world. What a life. I look over my shoulder and see the beast lurking between the thin silhouettes of the pines. He moves closer in a focused stroll as if he knows something. My heart flutters and I shake my canteen. Enough for a day or so and he never stays that long. He approaches the pool’s edge. Other than the day we met, he never comes to the shoreline. His shadow casts over the entire pool. All I can see in the darkness are his blood orange eyes. I curl into a ball refusing to look. I say grace over and over in my head:
Alive, awake...no hunger aches...for this feast, thank the beast.
He swats at the vines tied to the tree. The hammock rocks violently. Then in a fierce leap, he takes the vines in his massive mandible. The hammock’s sway grows wider and my side is parallel to the pool. My nails cut through the wax as I grip the hammock. He throws his weight back and forth, causing the hammock to make a complete rotation. The momentum keeps me secure. He learns fast. With one swift jerk, he rips the vines from the tree. I fly out of the hammock and hit the pool face first. My nose shatters against the surface tension. The merciful pool numbs me. I scurry to grab the canteen and throw its band around my neck. I gather and raise the fallen hammock a few meters away so it won’t sink in my wake. It doesn’t t weigh enough to break the surface. The coating will protect it. The hammock moves towards shore as if there’s a current. Looking up, I see the beast reeling me in. His muscles flex with vigor as he bites the vine, and pulls it out of the pool; one section at a time. His eyes meet mine. I feel a cold burn in my chest and swim toward the hammock. I manage to grab hold of its middle and pull myself on. As I do this, he steals it from my fingertips in a quick tug. I lash and claw in an attempt to save the hammock. His pull is too strong in such a thick solution. My nails break off in the hard wax and crimson covers my discolored skin. I realize I am shredding the coating. My panicked gestures create a splash whose droplets disintegrate the fibers like a meteor shower. I stop thrashing to preserve what I can. Without the hammock what's the point? If he has come this far, surely today is the day he waits for my complete deterioration. I climb into the remaining upper half of the hammock. The beast continues his morbid pace. I wrap myself in sorrow and say grace:
Alive, awake... no hunger aches...for this feast, thank the beast
I realize I’m not moving anymore. I peek out and see the beast poised at the shore line. Why did he stop?” That s right dumbass!”, I shout with a fist pump in false victory, “Even if you pull me out, I’m covered in this shit, surely it will dissolve you too !”
Hours upon hours pass by. My skin begins to twitch and sizzle. The beast mustn’t see my weakness. I fight to stay still. More time goes by. It hurts so badly that I’m whimpering. My canteen is empty. I start to get dizzy. My body shakes and twists not knowing how to escape the burn. I try to control my arms, my legs, my head anything! So I can pull myself on to the sinking hammock. My weight is bringing it down. But I can’t fight the tremors. I’m too dizzy for coordination. I've got to get to shore. I flip and flop my body like a folding chair. It’s the only move I've got. As I make progress, so does the fire eating my skin. The numbing effects of the solution aren’t powerful enough. I scream as I feel my first epidermal layer peel off, curling and separating itself from my flesh in the heat of the chemical burn. It’s all over my body. I scream louder and louder. I can’t inhale. I can’t stop screaming. Then POP! The scream from my gaping mouth brings stunning silence. My vision is fading. I stop screaming. I don t feel the pain so much anymore. It’s a malicious relief. I fade in and out of consciousness. In my blissful dissent to madness, I see a snake slithering towards me in the solution. Is everything fucking out to get me? I try to say grace but my thoughts slur. Goddammit!
The snake slips over the hammock and wraps himself around my contorted figure. She wraps me from head to toe. Her skin is smooth and emits warmth. I’m not sure what s real anymore. I surrender and embrace to her firm and encompassing hold. My body goes limp. The serpent turns her arrow shaped head towards the fallen vines, penetrating and coiling into them. Her warm breath melts the wax as she begins to weave in and out of the pattern. The snake is unaffected by the solution. She merges and absorbs as she penetrates the vines. I must be dying. The chemicals must be distorting what sense I have left. She glows evergreen as she fuses with the vines. The fire consuming my flesh smolders. The transformation travels all the way up the vines to the tree. Its leaves rustle like a welcoming whisper. I fade out slowly in an emerald tomb wait, what's the word? Womb, an emerald womb.