exsanguinate | issue 2.2 excerpts

trauma

Shock.
The word of the day is
shock.
With shock follows
shivering,
irregular heartbeat,
dizziness,
lightheadedness,
coma.

She would not give in.
A little bit of movie magic,
a little bit of passion,
a little bit of that special stuff that makes the sane go mad,
then larger than life
and smaller than can be seen with the naked eye,
she teetered on the edge
as the ground below awaited her pummel.
Separate the wool from the lamb,
and the weak freeze to death.
But she would not let herself.
She refused.
It was a delicate balancing act,
a show of courage,
a conjure of strength,
a moment of self-preservation.
It was the final test
in the gruelling battery
and she passed . . .

out as the ambulance arrived.

cryogenics

Looking up.
In the cold dark room
only the tiniest red and orange lights
pulsated,
throbbed,
pumped.
In perfect time,
like fucking clockwork,
their mesmerizing motion
captivated her.
Her eyes glued,
then geled,
then went out of focus
as the voices, the words and the sounds
caroused about
in the air
and in her head.

Looking up.
The sudden appearance of his deathly white face in the doorway
mortified her.
Breathing the same cold air,
they were.
Seeing by the same light:
one blinded,
the other blinding.
Rendered motionless,
left frozen -- like the heart he bore within his body --
she could only hope
at that moment
that the heart within hers
would 
not 
stop.

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