Personal Account from a Wombat Regarding Recent Events in Regions Unknown
Lights upon the ancient machines blinked at me, their caretaker and audience. I firmly placed my soft paws on the monolithic reverberation chambers planted throughout my living space like weeds.
It was in that moment that I felt a fat impact, the pressing of weight, quite possibly full or even quarter bodied, causing the form that I was holding between my fingers to shake in a violent manner. This felt more intense, closer this time than any time before it. A faint crinkling of metal was felt by me alone, easily comparable to the collapsing of some mettalloid or perhaps a bicycle, the walls of the inorganic form falling ever inwards in response to the pressure of a similarly inorganic form.
Following shortly after the initial impact were the steady yet erratic waves of aftershocks. The tone of these seismic thrummings was deep and low and seemed to come from distant but ever nearer jumpings and bellowings. Here I was made aware of the Texture of Pleasure pure and unadulterated.
My ears swiveled and I was pulled from my vicariously crushing euphoria. Another wave fell upon the beaches, the high tide growing higher before the psuedo-water appendage recedes back into its host body. This fluid, much older than me and most other things, reminds me of what must become of my small body. I am reminded of what I have read and I am reminded of why the monoliths shake at me and I am reminded of why I must remain cautious and afraid in all moments.
blakekathryn
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