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Snippet #926

located in Life, a part of Almost an Allegory, one of the many universes on RPG.

Life

The container of experiences that a living creature goes through, whether asleep or awake.

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“Join me,” repeats Sod, his voice absent the finality of a story’s end.

An awkward, vainglorious moment lingers after his recitation. In it, hot sweat pours down his shoulder blades, moldering in the filthy, fetid rags of his tunic and deteriorating into the briny tang and aroma of sex. She had tasted like the private beach where they hadn’t fucked. Oh, how he had so wanted to, and even shucked his shorts and dragged her through the evening surf in a juvenile effort to win her over, only to be caught and wonderfully embarrassed. The recollection makes him shiver, and he whimpers—a repulsive little expression exposing his emotional purgatory and physical arousal. To him, it is a phantasmagoria of memories, justly owned, without excuses; something precious, to be cherished unquestionably. For any observer, it is sick; like an addiction, its effects on his life are as devastating as they are vile.

A tiny voice mercilessly tramples Sod’s wallowing, muttering, “Pathetic.” The other mice peep their agreement, one going so far as to accuse, “You’re totally getting off on … whatever this is.”

Astonished and furious, Sod cries out, “She’s dead! Whenever I close my eyes and think of that day, I hear her asking me to join her!”

“Your selfishness deludes you,” notes the elder mouse phlegmatically.

“Selfish? Heartless vermin, I loved her!” Sod insists, pounding his fist into the muck, as if his exertion matters.

“What have you done to show her that love?” asks another.

Petulantly, Sod answers, “Are you not listening? She is dead! If you’re going to tell me something, tell me something real!”

“Real, eh?” snorts the elder mouse, leaning forward on a toothpick of a sword. “I’ll tell you a story, then.”