Take a journey through the alien land of lies. At first you do not notice anything different about this land. The grass is green, the buildings are wood and concrete, the people don’t have four heads. As you walk the streets of the land and cities, no one pays you any mind.

Then you notice that the air is thick, almost jellied; halfway between air and water. It is a milky, murky color, like the solutions that preserves aborted fetuses. Through this jellied air fly, or swim, insects of uncommon size. Dragonflies with wings crusted with yellowed rhinestones shimmer sickly through the jelly and leave a slimy trail behind. Moths with solid black wings languidly flap them, while their teeth drip maroon blood that hangs in globules heavy on the air. The moths eat the dragonflies and their bellies bloat with gas. Translucent eggs erupt from the bellies and float in the air like frog cream, the color of fake emeralds. Hisses and chitters and burbles can be heard through the fog.

The denizens of this land expect nothing from you, and fear you not at all. They do not care if you join them, adding your own putrid lies to the stew. They do not care, even, if you steal what is not yours. Feel free to gather them in nets and pickle them in bottles; feel free to suck them in and swallow them with your breath.

Just don’t expect me to join you.

Technorati Tags: lies, alien, brass, buildings, insects, air, water