Stream of Consciousness Rocks
It was rough during the nine weeks in the desert. They had enough food for three days and, when the food ran out, they resorted to eating cacti and scorpions. Starting a fire was easy enough; all they needed was a magnifying glass and a handful of dried vegetation. The hard part was keeping the fire ablaze once they ran out of vegetation and only had a half a sandwich left to burn. No one was willing to burn the sandwich though, even now that it had gone moldy and was starting to smell.
About four days into the trip, Billy found herself wondering how she had gotten to be there in the desert. She began wondering how the sandwich had ever gotten moldy when they were all starving to death. She even began wondering where this desert was exactly and why she had a boy’s name.
She thought she felt a drop of water on her hand. It wasn’t water, but someone had left the magnifying glass out and the focused sunbeam was burning a hole into her palm. She yanked her hand away and started to cry, collecting the tears in her canteen and drinking them just to line the inside of her mouth with salty moisture before passing out and dreaming of her memories.
Billy was born twenty-three years prior on April 1st to a 16-year-old girl who didn’t even realize she was pregnant until Billy started coming out. Billy’s mother named her after Calvin Coolidge’s pet hippopotamus before anyone could tell her she’d given birth to a girl. An hour later, Billy’s mother left the hospital AMA and didn’t take Billy with her. An independently wealthy 86-year-old lesbian couple adopted her and when they died ten years later, she inherited everything becoming the youngest independently wealthy girl in real life.
She filed papers to become her own legal guardian and home schooled herself. She went four years without saying a single word to anyone and wrote a thirty-page book about the experience, which stayed on Time Magazine’s list of 100 Most Engrossing Books Written by Misguided Teens for ten years before being usurped by The 4,000 People You’ll Meet at a Bus Station in 2016. In 2018, Billy co-founded the Rhapsody of the Human Condition, a “body of beliefs and practices” that became a full-fledged religion in 2020 with the inception of its 2,000,007th member: Irene Fellowhad, head of the Department of State.
Every year Billy led a group of the most dedicated and generous of the Rhapsody’s Inner Circle into the desert for purification where they consumed experimental hallucinogens and followed a compass that didn’t point north. Those who lived became part of the Inner Circle’s Inner Circle, giving up all their earthly possessions to the Rhapsody. The inner circle of the Inner Circle’s Inner Circle was etched with the names of those who didn’t survive purification, but who were forever remembered for leaving all their earthly possessions to the Rhapsody.
Billy was still hallucinating when a giant lizard picked her up and carried her back to the Rhapsody’s Tower #583 and the big stone statues of her adoptive mothers outside the building tried to steal her moldy sandwich. Billy screamed that they weren’t her real mothers and they turned back into statues. The sandwich was safe.
“You’ve been really hard on the purifications lately. None made it back this time you know,” a reproduction of The Scream on the wall of her room said. It had Hannah Haddock’s voice. Hannah was the Rhapsody’s co-founder. He was a man, named after the mate to Billy the hippopotamus.
Or so he said. Hannah probably isn’t his real name.
“Those people were dead before I even took them into the desert,” Billy told The Scream. “In fact, everyone in this cult is dead. I lead the dead. All hail Billy, god of the dead!”
“Goddamnit Billy,” The Scream said, his face melting. He shut the door to the room. “There are members everywhere. You can’t let anyone hear you saying that.”
Billy rolled her eyes, which made her dizzy. She found the giant wooden shoe which she assumed was what she was hallucinating her bed as and collapsed on it.
“I need stronger drugs next time,” Billy said. “I can tell you’re not The Scream. You have Hannah’s voice and your face is melting. And this isn’t a shoe. I can tell. I need stronger stuff.”
“Any stronger and you won’t even get the purifications into the desert,” Hannah said. His Scream face was pooling at his feet.
“What do you care whether they come back dead or alive?” Billy said, staring at the millions of spiders scurrying all over the ceiling. When one fell off, it disappeared in a bright flash of silver light before it hit the ground. There were flashes of light everywhere.
“I care if you come back dead or alive. You’re the face of the Rhapsody. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Hannah said. He reached out to Billy and brushed a strand of auburn hair out of her face. His arm was a snake that hissed in her ear as he did it. Two years ago, she would have been frightened down to her bones, but snakes didn’t scare her anymore.
When the whole world is simply a hallucination, nothing is scary.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Billy said, lifting herself off the bed to brush her lips against Hannah’s. With her right hand she groped for the letter opener on her shoe-side table. “I can’t die.”
She found the letter opener and, after a moment’s hesitation, stabbed herself between the sixth and seventh ribs on her right side. Her serene smile twisted into a grimace of exquisite pain as rice poured out from the wound and began to coat the shoe sheets and cascade down to the floor.
“Fucking hell, Billy!” Hannah said, backing away. His snakes were flailing, failing. He yanked the door open and sprinted out, his footprints blooming flowers as he went.
“Don’t worry. I can’t die,” Billy said to the spiders on the ceiling. “The Scream won’t let me.”
She let the sound of cascading rice lull her into unconsciousness.
To Be Continued... Probably.
About four days into the trip, Billy found herself wondering how she had gotten to be there in the desert. She began wondering how the sandwich had ever gotten moldy when they were all starving to death. She even began wondering where this desert was exactly and why she had a boy’s name.
She thought she felt a drop of water on her hand. It wasn’t water, but someone had left the magnifying glass out and the focused sunbeam was burning a hole into her palm. She yanked her hand away and started to cry, collecting the tears in her canteen and drinking them just to line the inside of her mouth with salty moisture before passing out and dreaming of her memories.
Billy was born twenty-three years prior on April 1st to a 16-year-old girl who didn’t even realize she was pregnant until Billy started coming out. Billy’s mother named her after Calvin Coolidge’s pet hippopotamus before anyone could tell her she’d given birth to a girl. An hour later, Billy’s mother left the hospital AMA and didn’t take Billy with her. An independently wealthy 86-year-old lesbian couple adopted her and when they died ten years later, she inherited everything becoming the youngest independently wealthy girl in real life.
She filed papers to become her own legal guardian and home schooled herself. She went four years without saying a single word to anyone and wrote a thirty-page book about the experience, which stayed on Time Magazine’s list of 100 Most Engrossing Books Written by Misguided Teens for ten years before being usurped by The 4,000 People You’ll Meet at a Bus Station in 2016. In 2018, Billy co-founded the Rhapsody of the Human Condition, a “body of beliefs and practices” that became a full-fledged religion in 2020 with the inception of its 2,000,007th member: Irene Fellowhad, head of the Department of State.
Every year Billy led a group of the most dedicated and generous of the Rhapsody’s Inner Circle into the desert for purification where they consumed experimental hallucinogens and followed a compass that didn’t point north. Those who lived became part of the Inner Circle’s Inner Circle, giving up all their earthly possessions to the Rhapsody. The inner circle of the Inner Circle’s Inner Circle was etched with the names of those who didn’t survive purification, but who were forever remembered for leaving all their earthly possessions to the Rhapsody.
Billy was still hallucinating when a giant lizard picked her up and carried her back to the Rhapsody’s Tower #583 and the big stone statues of her adoptive mothers outside the building tried to steal her moldy sandwich. Billy screamed that they weren’t her real mothers and they turned back into statues. The sandwich was safe.
“You’ve been really hard on the purifications lately. None made it back this time you know,” a reproduction of The Scream on the wall of her room said. It had Hannah Haddock’s voice. Hannah was the Rhapsody’s co-founder. He was a man, named after the mate to Billy the hippopotamus.
Or so he said. Hannah probably isn’t his real name.
“Those people were dead before I even took them into the desert,” Billy told The Scream. “In fact, everyone in this cult is dead. I lead the dead. All hail Billy, god of the dead!”
“Goddamnit Billy,” The Scream said, his face melting. He shut the door to the room. “There are members everywhere. You can’t let anyone hear you saying that.”
Billy rolled her eyes, which made her dizzy. She found the giant wooden shoe which she assumed was what she was hallucinating her bed as and collapsed on it.
“I need stronger drugs next time,” Billy said. “I can tell you’re not The Scream. You have Hannah’s voice and your face is melting. And this isn’t a shoe. I can tell. I need stronger stuff.”
“Any stronger and you won’t even get the purifications into the desert,” Hannah said. His Scream face was pooling at his feet.
“What do you care whether they come back dead or alive?” Billy said, staring at the millions of spiders scurrying all over the ceiling. When one fell off, it disappeared in a bright flash of silver light before it hit the ground. There were flashes of light everywhere.
“I care if you come back dead or alive. You’re the face of the Rhapsody. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Hannah said. He reached out to Billy and brushed a strand of auburn hair out of her face. His arm was a snake that hissed in her ear as he did it. Two years ago, she would have been frightened down to her bones, but snakes didn’t scare her anymore.
When the whole world is simply a hallucination, nothing is scary.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Billy said, lifting herself off the bed to brush her lips against Hannah’s. With her right hand she groped for the letter opener on her shoe-side table. “I can’t die.”
She found the letter opener and, after a moment’s hesitation, stabbed herself between the sixth and seventh ribs on her right side. Her serene smile twisted into a grimace of exquisite pain as rice poured out from the wound and began to coat the shoe sheets and cascade down to the floor.
“Fucking hell, Billy!” Hannah said, backing away. His snakes were flailing, failing. He yanked the door open and sprinted out, his footprints blooming flowers as he went.
“Don’t worry. I can’t die,” Billy said to the spiders on the ceiling. “The Scream won’t let me.”
She let the sound of cascading rice lull her into unconsciousness.
To Be Continued... Probably.