She ran the tips of her fingers along one of Abbyās arms, which was red with scratches. āLet me take care of you, darling.ā
Abby wasnāt sure what being taken care of entailed, but was excited to find out. She nodded eagerly.
On the bench, near where Miriam had been sitting earlier, was a small earthen pot decorated with intricate scrollwork, beautiful yet difficult to look at for too long. The older woman twisted off its lid, and a delightful smell wafted from it, like sunlight on green grass. It evoked a memory of her from her teenage years. She had gone skinny dipping in a creek while exploring the woods behind her grandparentsā house. It was a hot day, and she had lain naked in the grass, looking up at a wide, clear sky, feeling free and alive in a way that she had never felt before, and hadnāt felt againā¦ until tonight.
Miriam dipped her fingers into the container and scooped out a dollop of pearly white salve, the consistency of freshly whipped cream. She rubbed it vigorously between her palms and then lovingly smeared it across Abbyās collarbones, sending shudders through Abbyās naked body. The salve felt like tingly champagne bubbles on her skin.
With deliberate care and focus, Miriam massaged the balm into her skin. Abby felt warm and loved and safe. Which, oddly enough, made her hornier than ever. She looked down at the other womanās hands and saw that, miraculously, her wounds (and the accompanying pain) were magically vanishing as if Miriam were simply rubbing away a smudge of paint. And not only did the pain completely disappear, but she felt energized, her muscles practically swelling with renewed strength and vigor.
āWhat is this?ā She gasped. āAre youā¦ magic?ā
Miriam spoke softly, her gaze intent on her hands, which were busy attending to Abbyās left forearm. āOh yes..ā She lifted a heavy-lidded gaze to her patientās eyes. She winked, suddenly full of mischief. āAnd Iām talented with my hands.ā
Abby chuckled. āI bet you are!ā
Miriam smiled roguishly and continued methodically massaging her magic salve into Abby's skin, healing and revitalizing her. She had started at the neck and shoulders, then down each arm, bicep to fingertips, and then each leg. Then she moved behind Abby, working her literal magic from the nape of her neck down to the valley at the base of her spine.
Abby wouldn't, under normal circumstances, believe that mystic healing salves were real, but nothing about this wild night made any sort of logical sense. After all, there was currently some kind of horny spirit inhabiting the base of her spine, fucking her from the inside out. So why not magic potions?
As soon as she thought of the spirit, it flared to life. Miriam was standing behind her, massaging her ass with broad, slow, sweeping strokes. Abby felt the presence growing, and a bright, golden light radiated from her tailbone, making her heady with lust. She mewed and rolled her hips involuntarily, pressing herself into Miriamās magic hands. The other woman responded by caressing and squeezing her ass. Juice flowed from her pussy down her thighs.
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She was led into a stately bathroom, decorated in the mid-century modern style, with dark green tiles and black lacquered cabinetry. She immediately stepped into the spacious shower stall and turned on the water, which quickly became steaming hot.
āIām going to go acquire some appropriate attire, dear. Iāll return in just a moment.ā
The shower was glorious. Abby sighed happily as the dirt and detritus of the forest sluiced off her skin and from her hair. Scrubbing herself with a soapy washcloth, careful of her bruised and scraped skin, she found herself fully admiring how her body felt, which she hardly ever allowed herself to do. Usually, she focused on all of the ways in which she fell short of the feminine ideal of beauty; how it was too fat in some places, too thin in others, with stretch marks and dimples and body hair providing a road map to all the places that men couldnāt possibly find attractive. But right now she luxuriated in her form, the shape and heft of her breasts, the curve and sweep of her belly, the round swell of her ass. As she rinsed the soap from her body, she ran her hands across it with delight and a newfound sense of discovery. Any man who didnāt find all this sexy was an idiot and didnāt deserve it anyway.
The presence she had felt near the car, which had wrenched her here with such urgency, had quieted down when Miriam had touched her hand earlier. At that moment, it had gone from a raging inferno to a glowing ember at the base of her spine. But now, as she touched herself in the shower, it rekindled within her, stronger than before. She could sense that it too loved her body and wanted to fill it with orgasmic delight. Unable and unwilling to stop herself, Abby playfully flicked one nipple, feeling it instantly swell and grow rigid. She pinched it lightly and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger āĀ which made her gasp āĀ while the ghostly presence rushed to fill the spaces inside her body, filling her with a warm glow and electric yearning. She felt the presence reach up from her tailbone with tendrils of light that caressed her insides sensually, as if it were pleasuring her very soul. Instantly, her clitoris was engorged, and it throbbed almost painfully, begging for attention.
Hands shaking slightly, Abby clumsily removed the detachable shower head and turned the dial to the massage setting. The water began jetting out in powerful pulses, which she aimed at her pussy, setting off overwhelming paroxysms of pleasure throughout her body. Her knees buckled, and she had to throw herself against the wall of the shower to keep from falling over.
As she leaned with her back against the cool, emerald tiles of the shower, her entire body shuddering and quaking, she heard Miriam return and quietly close the door behind her. Abby could see her silhouette through the frosted glass of the shower door, hanging what looked like a white dress or a robe from a hook behind the door before sitting on a small bench just outside the shower, facing her.
Abby had a brief moment of embarrassment that faded as quickly as it arose. For one, she couldnāt stop now if she tried, but mostly, she didnāt feel ashamed at all. This was her body, and she was only doing what came naturally with it. If Miriam was offended, she could leave. If she decided to stay, well, an audience wasnāt the worst thing. So she closed her eyes and relaxed, bringing the hard spray of water back towards her aching clit. She came almost immediately, letting out a long, low moan that rose into a gasping cry. Sadly, her orgasm was gone almost as quickly as it arose, and she was left feeling bereft and hornier. But she didnāt want to cum alone, she wanted āĀ needed āĀ the touch of another.
Sighing, she turned off the water and slid open the shower door. Miriam was still sitting on the bench, still turned in her direction and wearing an impish grin, looking like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. She gave Abby a long, appraising look, unabashedly taking in her wet, naked body, lingering on her thick pubic hair, which was dewy and glistening. Then she rose, unfolding a big, fuzzy white towel that had been resting on the bench beside her. She unfurled it and held it open wide and inviting. āMay I?ā She asked coyly.
Abby, who would normally be very nervous and shy under such scrutiny and such an invitation ā especially from another woman ā boldly stepped forward and found herself wrapped in warm, soft cotton. Miriam held her arms around her for a beat, making deep eye contact with Abby and smiling warmly, her expression a combination of affection and lust, before carefully drying her off so as not to aggravate the many scrapes and scratches covering her body. Miriam took her time, obviously taking great pleasure in touching Abbyās body through the soft towel.
āYouāre very beautiful,ā She purred, kneeling before Abby, vigorously rubbing the towel across her backside, face inches away from her bush.
Abbyās face flushed, but she didnāt say anything. She had never thought about being with a woman before, but here and now she found herself very attracted to Miriam. Without thinking, she took a step forward, wrenching the towel out of the other womanās hands and carelessly throwing it on the floor. She wrapped her fingers around Miriamās chin and pulled her up to stand before her. Suddenly, their lips met, and they were locked in a long and passionate kiss. Abby was surprised at how soft and delicate the other womanās mouth was, and at how easily and instinctively she took the role of top. As they kissed, her crotch became incredibly wet, and hot fluids ran down her thighs. She suddenly wanted this lovely woman in the worst way, and she moaned into Miriamās mouth, thrusting her hips forward hungrily.
Miriam broke their embrace, her face flush and her nipples hard against the thin fabric of her dress. She was breathing heavy, and her eyes were fierce and bright.
āHmm.ā She mused. āThat was a nice surprise!ā
The closer they came to the treeline, the stronger the compulsion pulling them became. Their slow, unsteady stumbles turned into a fast walk, then a jog, and soon they were running headlong through the underbrush, jumping over fallen logs and ducking under branches.
Clint had somehow managed to free himself from his pants, and he sprinted beside her, naked from the waist down, his rigid dick comically swinging before him. She had lost her shoes, and the dirt, moss, and ferns tickled the soles of her bare feet. Her dress was snagged by passing branches and brambles and torn. But she didnāt care, she barely thought, there was only the drive to run, towards whatever strange pleasures awaited ahead.
She barrelled through the dark, barely able to see more than a few feet in front of her, leaping over fallen logs and ducking branches. She felt for certain that at any other time sheād be struggling for air with her muscles straining and aching, but she felt exhilarated and tireless. Her mind and body were relentlessly being driven forward. She had no thoughts in her head. There was only the absolute need and urgency to reach her destination ā wherever that was.
Abby had no idea how long she ran breakneck through the trees, but at last she saw the warm, rectangular glow from several lit windows in a large house directly ahead. The bright light above the front door was as inviting to her as a candle to a moth. She sprinted across a gravel driveway, barely aware of the sharp rocks against the bottoms of her feet, then up a short walkway. She leaped up onto the porch, bounding over the step leading up to it entirely, and nearly slammed into the door. It was large and impressive, painted red, and dominated by a stained-glass window, which depicted some kind of symbol she didnāt recognize. A Greek letter perhaps? Or maybe Sanskrit? She didnāt care ā she only knew that what had drawn her here so desperately and irrevocably lay beyond.
She pressed the doorbell, her hand trembling as the adrenaline drained from her body. She became aware that she was naked, her dress lost somewhere along her sprint through the woods. Her bare chest began to rise and fall violently, as if her lungs suddenly realized they were out of air. She looked down and saw that she was covered in dirt and dust, moss and leaves stuck in her hair. She must have fallen at some point. The strangest thing was that her sex was still aflame with an arousal unlike anything she had ever experienced, and her juices ā mixed with Clintās cum ā oozed in riverlets down her thighs, leaving bright streaks in the dust covering her legs.
She pressed the doorbell again, this time her hand shaking in anticipation. She was filthy and naked, her body abruptly breaking out in a hot sweat, but she didnāt care. She just wanted in. She knew with a stark certainty that inside this house ā which she had the impression was some kind of grandiose manor ā awaited pleasures beyond her imagination and a quenching of the fires that burned within her and an aching, agonizing hollowness that yearned to be filled.
Abby was about to throw herself bodily at the door and attempt to force it open or, barring that, claw her way through the wood, when it gently opened. And there, a man, tall and thin, stood revealed in the doorway.
āHello,ā he said, his voice gentle, with the slow, rich timbre of a kind, older man. He didn't appear to be surprised at all to see a wild, naked woman sweating and heaving on the porch. āIt appears that we have a late arrival. Please.ā He stood to one side and gestured for her to enter.
Being met with such mild-mannered, matter-of-factness left Abby suddenly confused and bewildered. She stumbled into the light and looked up at the man.
He was indeed older, perhaps in his fifties, with a narrow, hawklike nose and large, intelligent eyes. He smiled at her with friendly warmth as he slowly closed the door behind her with a soft thud of irrevocability. There was no turning back.
Abby felt like a feral animal that had been let in from the rain ā she wanted to throw herself onto this handsome gentleman and tear his clothes off with tooth and claw. Unthinkingly, she stepped close to him, her eyes feasting upon his lean face. She bet he knew how to please her body in ways she could only imagine. Her nose was only inches away from his chest, and she could smell his masculine musk beneath a hint of cinnamon and cherry wood beneath the silk tie and vest he was wearing. She could feel the sudden rush of heat radiating from his groin, and Abby knew, despite his calm demeanor, he was horny for her. She had an almost uncontrollable urge to grab his hand and stick his fingers in between her thighs, so he might feel just how hot and wet she was.
āAll things in due time,ā he chuckled, good-naturedly. It was as if reading her mind. āFirst, let's get you cleaned up and properly dressed for the eveningās festivities.ā
āAh! Miriam! What perfect timing.ā The man was addressing an elegant woman, mature and radiating confidence and authority. She was wearing a stylish, cream-colored, vintage evening gown and pearls. She carried an empty cocktail glass in one hand, the other already extended out towards Abby.
āLet's get you cleaned up and dressed, and then find you a drink, dear.ā Miriam tugged on her hand, indicating that Abby should come with her.
Suddenly, Abby remembered Clint. āOh! My friend!ā She gasped! āThere was a man with me! Brown shaggy hair? Glasses?ā She thought for a moment and realized that she wasn't sure if he hadn't lost his glasses along with his clothes. āMaybe glasses? Also, um, naked?ā
Victor made a reassuring gesture. āDon't fret, he arrived just before you did. He's being taken care of as we speak. Already showered and dressed and joined the party, no doubt.ā
āBesides,ā Miriam said, with a devilish smile. āEveryone comes here, sooner or later.ā She gave a naughty chuckle and pulled at Abby's hand. āCome along, dearā¦ what was your name?ā
āAbigail. Abby.ā
āWell, Abigail Abby,ā she teased. āLet's get you bathed and properly attired. You don't want to miss the best part of our little get-togethers.ā
āWhat kind of get-together?ā
Miriam just winked coyly in response and pulled Abby up a flight of stairs.
After the incident with his mom, Zach was very careful not to talk about his strange experiences and grew gradually more guarded and quiet. By listening to and watching other people, he discoveredāat least, as near as he could tellāthat he was alone in his having visions. And, while some people sometimes claimed to see phantoms moving out of the corner of their eyes or occasionally hearing things that werenāt there, they didnāt seem to anything close to the same intensity or with the same frequency as Zach did.
He grew increasingly afraid that he was losing his mind, so he began to quietly and surreptitiously (so that his mom wouldnāt be suspicious) research the connection between hallucinations and mental illness. And while the experiencing of hallucinatory or illusory sensations was frequently due to psychosis, a symptom of schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, he didnāt seem to have any of the other symptoms associated with mental illness. Zach didnāt have the panic attacks, social phobia, or general loss of enjoyment that schizophrenics frequently suffer from. Nor did he have periods of mania and depression as a person with bipolar disorder might have. And though his visions were strange, overwhelming, and sometimes frightening, they werenāt particularly violent or paranoid in nature. In fact, aside from occasionally being caught off-guard by his hallucinations, Zach was a fairly happy and well-adjusted kid. If he had been religious, he might have thought that perhaps God was trying to talk to him. However, he wasnātāhis family never did talk about religion that much at all, and God was never a concept that appealed to him. He sometimes wondered if he wasnāt some kind of living antenna for alien communications. As part of his studying schizophrenia, he had read a lot of Philip K. Dick, who had written a story about that. Well, even if his hallucinations were messages from some kind of higher cosmic being, they didnāt seem to make any sense or mean anything in particular, and they were vastly inconsistent and varied wildly in content and form. Frankly, Zach didnāt know what to make of any of it on his own, but he was too terrified to talk to anyone about it for fear that they would lock him away somewhere away from his mom and sister for being a nut.
For the most part, Zachās hallucinations were mild in nature and easily ignored. On occasion, however, they were quite powerful, subsuming all of reality as he knew it. These more powerful visionsāwhich he dubbed āTransmission Eventsāāwere rare, but increased in frequency as he got older.
Zach was seven when he experienced his first Transmission Event. It happened while he was on a long road trip with his mother and older sister. He was sitting in the backseat of the car, his head against the window. He was looking up and watching the rhythmic pulse of the tops of telephone poles flickering past, and daydreaming.
He was just dozing off when, without warning, shimmering pulses of multicolored light shot down at him out of what looked like a white hole in the bright blue sky. The pulse entered through the back window to hit his face with an almost visceral impact. His eyes filled with its terrible radiance until all that he could see was a scintillating, disorienting kaleidoscope of colors, madly swirling and undulating. Simultaneously, his ears were filled with an ear-splitting whine so loud it felt like his head might explode. And it felt like a godlike alien entity was digging its fingers around the inside of his skull. Zach cried out in pain and terror and projectile vomited all over the back of the driverās seat. He was only dimly aware of his mom swinging the car over onto the roadās shoulder in a panic.
The lights and sound and squirming in his brain vanished abruptly as soon as the car rocked to a halt.
Zachās mom whipped off her seatbelt, knocking her sunglasses off in the process, and jumped between the front seats and into the back of the car. Zach had slumped over, moaning and exhausted, his lap covered in half-digested Big Mac and McNuggets. Disoriented, he tried to explain as best he could what had happened, that he had some kind of terrible vision... from space. His mom chalked it up to him having fallen asleep and having had a nightmare on top of car sickness. No amount of pleading and promising that he had been wide awake when unbearable sounds and light had blasted into his brain from out of the sky. And the more he pleaded and insisted that he hadnāt been sleeping, the more visibly anxious his mom grew. Eventually, she got very angry with him and slapped him across the face.
āYou ate too much crap for lunch,ā she said very calmly and firmly, her cheeks red and her eyes glinting. āEnd. Of. Story.ā
There was a shocked pause while Zach sat there, dizzy and nauseous, his face stinging where his mom had hit him. She had never, ever raised her hand to him before, and, in many ways, it was a thousand times more frightening than his vision. After a long moment, his mom made his sister get all of the napkins from the glove box. āNow clean up this damned mess before we ALL puke.ā
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While she was listening to Clint unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, she felt the unseen presence that had been making her uncontrollably aroused since her arrival press against her body and all around her, and she decided to give in to it fully. She realized that, despite its weird and otherworldly nature, she had been welcoming and embracing it this whole time. It occurred to her that she had desperately missed feeling turned on. And this seductive phantom had opened her up (somewhat literally) to the pleasures that she had been denying herself for too long.
āTake me!ā She growled, commanding both Clint and the mystical force pressing against her flesh to fuck her.
She heard Clintās pants hit the ground, his belt clinking on the gravel at his feet as the mystical energy enveloping and pressing against her entire body seemed to flutter and stroke across her skin. It was somehow both warm and cool, and it made her flesh tingle with an almost electrical sensation, making the hair on her body stand on end and her nipples achingly hard.
And then, with an explosion of lights behind her eyes and an overwhelming surge of pleasure, she was filled up with hard, hot cock. Clint was pleasantly girthy, and she clamped down hard around him. He pushed in deep and paused, allowing them both to bask in the sensation of him throbbing deep within her.
āGod!ā He gasped. āYou feel so good!ā
She moaned deep, like a feral animal in heat. āSo fuck me already!ā
His hands, surprisingly strong and lightly calloused, grabbed her hips, and he roughly pulled her against him, ramming himself deeper into her. āYeah?ā He hissed. āYou want to get fucked?ā
āYes!ā Her voice was low and hoarse, desperate. āPlease!ā She pleaded.
He began mercilessly pounding her, using his tight grip on her hips to roughly pull her backward with each thrust, so that she slammed violently against him. And the air was soon filled with the thick, meaty sound of his balls slapping hard against her wet cunt.
She somehow managed to get one arm beneath her so that she could reach down to press her fingertips to her clit, which was pulsing and throbbing and practically screaming to be touched. She rolled her fingers around her hot, engorged button, which was slippery with the juices gushing from her pussy.
Her vision went black, save for brilliant multicolored stars that exploded like fireworks every time Clintās cock rammed inside her. She wrapped herself around it and gripped it as tightly as she could with the walls of her pussy, closing around it just as it stretched her open.
As they bucked and thrust against each other, the unearthly presence somehow seemed to enter her as well. And not just the slick hole that Clint was filling with his glorious cock, but her other holes as well. It even seemed to seep into her very pores. She was suddenly acutely aware of her entire body being filled with ecstatic heat, pleasure, and desperate need.
Meanwhile, her fingertips massaged her clit, rolling in tight circles around and around. She felt a powerful heat, a warm glow, a dizzying surge of energy radiating from it, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
Clint swelled inside her, somehow becoming even bigger and harder. āFuck! Fuck! Fuck!ā He cried out, his voice booming and echoing through the trees surrounding them. āAbby! Iām going to come!ā
Her head swam, awash with the knowledge that her body was driving this man to the extremes of pleasure, and she desperately wanted his cum inside her.
āYes! Yes! Fill me up!ā She cried out as she felt her own body teetering on the brink of orgasm.
With a roar and a violently powerful thrust, he exploded deep inside her. She felt his cock jerk and buck against the walls of her cunt as he emptied himself into her. The sensations of his pulsing girth and the pressure against her cervix were too much. She was dimly aware of a warm gush of her own fluids gushing out of her as a tidal wave of pure bliss subsumed her. She felt as if she had been disintegrated and converted to a being of pure sexual energy while simultaneously becoming incredibly dense, her body so solid and real that it felt like it might collapse under its own weight. She was no longer capable of having thoughts; her mind reduced to this singular experience, an all-powerful orgasm that dropped her into a beautiful subspace.
How long she stayed in this state of ecstasy, she couldnāt say, but she gradually gained awareness of the material world. Somehow, she knew that the spirit that was inhabiting her form and sharing sexual energy with her had also peaked, and it now snuggled gently within her, sharing her afterglow like a warm, fuzzy blanket wrapped around her soul.
Clint gasped and spasmed, spilling the last of his seed inside her, before collapsing against her, struggling for air. She could feel the sweat dripping off his body, the heat of his flesh radiating like a sun lamp. He stayed inside her for some time, still rock hard and throbbing.
āJesus fuck, Abby!ā He gasped, his breath hot against the back of her neck. āI didnāt think I would ever stop cumming. That was amazing! Like, wow! I've never experienced anything like that..ā
āYeah,ā she practically purred, wiggling her hips happily against him, luxuriating in the ebbing joy and delight that flowed from her body like water. She felt their mixed juices oozing out around his still-stiff erection. āIt was so, so good.ā
She paused, unsure if what she was going to say next was going to sound insane. āUm, did you happen to feelā¦ that presence? The one that was making us extra horny.ā
She felt him stand and reluctantly pull out of her, making her cry out with an involuntary sob of grief. His hot juices gushed out of her, oozing down her aching clit and inner thighs.
āYeah,ā he said, strangely matter-of-fact. āI donāt know about you, but I felt it inside me, yanno? Like, it penetrated me and then filled me up, and it made everything even more intense, yanno. And, okay, this is weird, but it was as if I was sharing how good you felt with it.ā
Abby rolled over and stood up, pulling her little sundress down over her crotch. Its soft cotton clung somewhat uncomfortably to her pubic hair, which was sticky-wet. Clint was standing there, his pants around his ankles, his cock still erect and throbbing, pointing skyward. She desperately wanted to put her mouth on it and taste their combined flavors. Her mouth watered.
He stared at her face, which was flushed and sweaty. She imagined that he was taking notice of her staring hungrily at his erection, and he absent-mindedly stroked it. āYouāre so hot, Abby. Like really. The sexiest person I have ever fucked.ā
She blushed and pushed herself up off the hood of her car, prepared to drop to her knees at Clintās feet and pop his hard tool into her eager mouth. But as she stood fully upright, her head spun, and she swooned, nearly toppling over. Clintās hands steadied her, his arms, comfortingly strong, wrapped tightly around her waist, and he gazed longingly at her face, smiling like a love-struck puppy. Abby lay her head on his broad chest and sighed happily.
As they stood there, basking in the warmth and gravity of their bodies pressed together, an invisible, preternatural force grabbed hold of both of them without warning. It tugged at them, physically pulling them with an unbreakable, undeniable magnetic forceā¦ and the promise of sensual delights beyond imagining.
Clint and Abby broke their embrace and stood side-by-side, staring into the woods, as that magnetic siren song tugged at Abbyās loins like they were tied to a leash. She stumbled towards the trees. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Clint pitch and reel along beside her, his hips thrusting out as if a hand had grabbed hold of his erection and yanked him forward by it.
Abby thought about resisting, but curiosity and a nasty, slutty part of her that she had long denied fully surrendered to whatever wonders this invisible guide was leading her to. She yearned to be ravished, to be wild and free, to fuck until she was chafed and sore and unable to walk, and she somehow knew that all of that and more lay before her.
Wordlessly, she and Clint were drawn away from the roadside and into the deep shadows of the trees.
Even before I was diagnosed auDHD, I was a huge neuroscience, psychology, and neurodivergence nerd. Brain stuff is my jam. So I research and read and try to learn everything I can about things like Autism.
But I've found one vital thing that's missing from all the literature, articles, lectures, and videos about Autism I've come across: "Autistic Joy".
Most people's concepts of Autism are based on poor media representation. Autistics are often portrayed as flat and robotic, and either lacking any kind of human emotion or as being perpetually grouchy.
But the truth is that many Autistics often (but not all ā it is a spectrum after all) feel emotions very deeply and intensely, and as fully embodied (meaning that emotions are felt *throughout* the body, and not just isolated to the heart or the head).
This includes happiness.
For me, Autistic Joy is a feeling of elation and delight that radiates through and from my whole being like warm, fuzzy light. It feels like my insides are licking a 9-volt battery. It feels like falling in love, laying in a sunbeam, and Christmas morning. Autistic Joy is transcendental and deeply spiritual. It's an experience a Buddhist might call "Muchness".
However, it can be very intense and uncomfortable to contain, to the point where the pressure can make me anxious. This pressure is relieved through movement, stimming and tics. I squirm, I clap, I sway, squinch up my face. When I'm particularly overjoyed, I'll want explosive movement; spinning, skipping, running, hopping, and dancing.
It's also relieved through touch. Which is my favorite. I'm a very touch-seeking person as it is, and when I'm happy to be around someone, I want to hug, cuddle, and press my whole body into them, so as to push all of my love and delight for this person into them. It's as if my nervous system is saying, "Here, I have too much love for you, you have some."
I'm frequently told that I give the best hugs. āŗļø
And, as I drop my masks and become a more realised Autistic, it turns out that, most of the time, I'm a genuinely happy person. The world can be an absurd, silly, and delightful place and I'm here for it. So I'm fortunate enough to be filled with light and love more often than I'm not. It's just that I've been repressing it because neurotypicals can be very upset by someone in a cafe or store bouncing up and down and clapping with delight. Especially if that someone is an adult. Which is pretty dumb, in my opinion.
Unmasking my Autistic Joy has been a truly wonderful gift. For me, it more than makes up for all the many challenges that come with it.
And yes, it's important to recognize and validate just how difficult it is for Autistics to live in a noisy, confusing, unjust, and illogical neurotypical world that actively punishes those who are different and "weird".
But I think it's equally important to discuss and validate how wonderful it can be. I believe that awareness of how Autism isn't a robotic experience but a wholly and well-rounded HUMAN one (albiet one that's unique), helps makes it more accessible for and acceptable by neurotypical people.
And also, doesn't the world ā especially lately ā need more joy and love in it?
Abby sat in the driver's seat, pulling the front of her dress down, suddenly acutely aware that her underwear was somewhere out there on the shoulder of the road and that her pussy was wet and throbbing.
āSo, Clint, what do you do when you're not peeing on trees?ā She asked, clicking her seatbelt into place.
āOh, I edit films, mostly home movies and commercials for local businesses. I sort of fell into it after college. Anyways, it's kinda a dull job, honestly. I really want to be a sculptor, but for now, thatās just a hobby. What about you?ā
She turned the key in the ignition. The radio came back onāshockingly loud and making them both jumpābut the engine didn't turn over. She quickly turned down the volume and turned the key again. The engine made a funny noise, but wouldnāt start. āHuh. Well, um. I'm an academic advisor for the state university. I was driving to a friend's destination wedding at a barn in the boonies. Barf.ā
āAbby, can I admit something to you?ā He looked at her, his brow furrowed and his cheeks flushed; a mixed expression of confusion, curiosity, and embarrassment. Abby took her first real look at him. He wasnāt conventionally handsome, but cute in a dorky way. A shaggy mop of hair from the 1970s that was charmingly outdated. Dimpled cheeks and full lips. Bright, clever eyes. Clint emitted an aura of emotional intelligence and affability. He was soothing to be around, she decided. Abby smiled warmly at him, trying to ignore the part of her that was imagining sitting on that kind face, defiling it.
āUm, yeah, go for it, dude.ā Her mouth was suddenly very dry. She subconsciously found herself spreading her legs, peeling her wet thighs apart. She was practically vibrating, praying to any god that would listen that heād say that he wanted to fuck.
āI, uh. I wasnāt taking a leak. Iā¦ā He broke eye contact. āI was jerking off. I was walking along the highway here, and my mind just sort of drifted, and I suddenly got really horny. Like, REALLY horny. The horniest Iāve ever been, to be honest. And, like I saidā¦ Itās been a while.ā He looked at her again. āI want you to know, though, that I stopped when you pulled up. And that I didnāt watch you while you were doingā¦ your thing. I tried not to listen too. But, umā¦ā He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and she glanced down and saw his rigid member straining against the fabric of his tight jeans. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she could smell the musk of desire wafting off of him. It was heady and made her feel drunk.
Abby was silent for a moment, mulling over this information and trying to pull her eyes away from his crotch. She was very suspicious that the two of them, going through a sexual dry spell, both felt the urge to jerk off in this exact spot. But mostly she was thinking about him stroking his dick, his back pressed against a tree, groaning. She wondered what his dick looked like.
It was getting harder and harder to push these vivid fantasies aside, so she decided that the best thing was to get out of this weirdā¦ sexual vortex, or whatever. She turned the key a third time, but once again, the engine wouldn't turn over. āThe fuck, car?ā
āUm, Abbyā?ā
āHang on a second, okay?ā She hadnāt meant to be rude, but she was starting to feel overwhelmed, a little scared, and extremely sexually frustrated. It was taking all of her effort to not jump on his lap and slide it in. Just what the fuck was going on? Were they somehow being manipulated? Some kind of swamp gas? Horny fucking ghosts?
Sturned the key a third time. This time there wasn't even a spark; the car was simply dead. āMotherfucker!ā She suddenly wanted to cry.
āAbby?ā Clint said, tentatively reaching out a comforting hand, but not touching her. The hairs on her arm stood on end. It felt like they were iron filings yearning to bond with his magnetic fingertips. āLook, itās okay. This is incredibly weird and all, sure. But the townās only a few miles down the road. Letās just hoof it and get a motel room or something. We can get a mechanic or a tow in the morning. Itās late, and, yāknow, maybe itās just the full moon and the warm air or the weird magic in the air here butā¦ā He paused, looking deep into her eyes with a sudden, fierce hunger. āOkay, whatever weird supernatural shitās going on here aside, I think youāre hot. And I think you think Iām hot tooā¦ Ugh! This isnāt like me at allā¦ But I think we should do it.ā He dropped his hand back to his side, suddenly bereft and embarrassed. She noticed he didnāt apologize for saying what he said, though, and that he was still giving her his hungry, wolfish stare.
Abby swallowed hard. This was unlike her too, but damn, she couldnāt stop thinking about fucking this guy. And she couldn't ignore that her aborted orgasm had left her clit angrily swollen and buzzing. She unbuckled her seatbelt. āCāmon. Cāmere.ā
She got out of the car and walked around as Clint stepped out to join her. Abby positioned herself in front of him, bending over the hood and lifting her dress over her buttocks and lower back, exposing her drooling, gaping pussy. She rocked her hips around in circles, an unspoken invitation, a display of hunger. āWell,ā she growled. āGo on!ā
What was she thinking? She slid off the car and walked around to get back inside. She leaned in to turn down the radio before climbing into the driverās seat. When she glanced back up, she could see a figure stepping from the trees, barely illuminated by the dome light inside the car.Ā
They were man-shaped, just under this side of tall and lean, wearing round glasses that reflected headlights at her. There was something gentle in their body language, a shyness, perhaps, and she found herself relaxing a little.
āUm, hi.ā The person stepping from the trees said, with a little tentative wave. āSorry to scare youā¦ I, um, my car broke down just up the road. I was walking back to town and went into the trees a bit to pee, and then you pulled up, and I was going to ask you for a lift, but thenā¦ umā¦ y'know?ā She could see his face growing flush with awkward embarrassment, even from here, in the dark. āI didn't mean to watch, if that's what you're thinking!ā
āYeah. That's okay, um.ā It was her turn to feel blush and feel awkward. āIā¦ I don't know what came over me. I'm normally not like that.ā She made a silly face, as if to convey what a weird thing that was to do, and absently straightened the front of her dress.
She was still cautious, however. Strange men stepping out of the woods in the middle of nowhere while you're jerking off on the trunk of your car isn't exactly what you'd call an ideal situation. But she did notice that he didn't step any closer to her from the treeline, and his expression was a combination of curiosity and a sort ofā¦ resignation? As if he had already decided that he was walking the five miles back to town alone and was trying to make peace with that.
āYeah, no, it's okay,ā he said, waving his hand casually. Trying to play it cool that she either thought he was a creep or that she was too embarrassed by getting caught masturbating, or both, and would be going on her way, leaving him to hoof it. He let out a long sigh, subconsciously glancing towards the direction of town with a barely concealed pained expression.
She found this display a little endearing, or at least it softened her anxiety a bit. She kept the keys in the ignition, though. Just in case she had to flee.
āI'm Abigail. Abby. It's an old-fashioned name, I know. I was named after my great-grandmother. She never jerked off in public. That I know of anyway.ā
He laughed. āHi, Abby. I'm Clint. I guess my parents were hoping I'd grow up to be macho or something. How disappointing for them.ā He stuffed his hands into his jeansā pockets and rocked on his heels, mimicking a late-night TV host from many decades ago. āSorry your great-grandmother didn't have a, uh, proper sense of adventure.ā
It was her turn to laugh. This Clint seemed more and more okay.
āLook, you seem like a nice guy, but I'm not sure about giving you a lift. Maybe I can call for someone to come pick you up? I'll hang out with you until then.ā
āYeah, whatever works for you, that sounds fine. Iāll take the company.ā
She picked her phone off its cradle on the dashboard. It was off. She tried turning it back on, but nothing. āHuh. My phone wonāt turn on. The battery must have died somehow.ā
āIt's okay, Abby. Really, it's cool. I understand. I personally wouldn't trust a strange man in the middle of nowhere either, and I'm not a woman. I'll just walk. It's not far.ā He was already turning to leave.
āWait! Clint, wait! I'll give you a ride. I'm not going to let you walk alone in the dark along the highway. Besides, there's somethingā¦ oddā¦ in the air here. I donāt want to, uh, be alone.ā When she said this, she wondered to herself why it was exactly that she didnāt want to be alone. Was it really because there was an unsettling vibe in the air, or was it because she was hoping to get railed? She let her mind wander for a moment, picturing Clint holding her down, just pounding her silly, before spraying hot cum all over her. She was dimly aware that juices were dripping down her thighs. She felt terribly empty.
āYeah,ā Clint said, his voice bringing her back to reality. āYou feel it too? It's not, exactlyā¦ bad? Just weirdlyā¦ intense. Wild, y'know?ā
āYeah, it feels almost electric, maybe? Or magnetic? Itās that feeling you get right before a roller coaster takes that first big drop.ā She trailed off, noticing how just being here was making her breathe harder and her pulse quicker. Something deep within her flickered like a struck match. She had a brief, but very vivid mental image of being mounted from behind in a crowded room, a cock deep inside her, balls slapping loudly against her while the onlookers murmured excitedly, enjoying the show. She shook her head to clear it. āUm. Ahem. Anyway, get in. I'll drive you back to town before the horny ghosts get you.ā
āDid you say horny ghostsā? He looked at her like maybe she was the dangerous one.
āNever mind, I'm just being a dork. C'mon.ā She gestured at the passenger door.
He grinned, obviously relieved, and practically bounded to her car before climbing in.
Zach had always been different, ever since he was little. He frequently experienced things no one else seemed to see, which manifested out of nowhere, with no particular trigger or warning. Sometimes he saw rapid flickering out of the corners of his eyes, or he would see bright loops of light or unsettling textures that would superimpose themselves over whatever he happened to be looking at. Occasionally, he would hear whispering voices speaking in strange, unrecognizable languages, or he would smell peculiar, exotic odors with no discernible origin. Now and then, he could even feel something invisible brushing across his skin, like ghostly fingertips.
These hallucinatory experiences happened so frequently that his classmates started calling him āBunny Boyā on account of his being so easily startled and jumpy. Eventually, however, despite these hallucinations growing steadily more frequent and intense as he got older, they became so commonplace that he stopped being so noticeably flinchy. Still, sometimes they would catch him off-guard or be so strange and otherworldly that he would start violently, his pulse quickening, the hairs on his arms and neck rising in dread.
By the time he was in college, he felt like his brain was the victim of an out-of-control television remote, rapidly flickering from one channel to the next. One station was reality, but there were dozens, maybe hundreds of others, that were weird and alien. It was only through immense willpower and self-discipline that he was able to minimize the encroaching visions enough to live a somewhat normal life. He found that by keeping his mind constantly and intensely focused, he was able to keep his strange hallucinations at bay. He became fervently involved in meditation, yoga, dance, martial arts āĀ basically anything that he could do that grounded his body and mind to reality. He pushed himself harder and harder in school, using the hyperfocus of studying to keep the phantasms at bay.
The downside was his growing more and more distant and withdrawn from the people around him. Other people were a distraction. While making small talk, he could easily find himself suddenly standing alone in a strange, spectral room, or have unfamiliar and unnerving music rebounding against the inside of his skull. It certainly didnāt help that he was irritable from being chronically exhausted and easily snapped at people with very little provocation.
Still, the loneliness was worth it to create a modicum of normalcy.
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I had woken up in my little room in my grandparentsā big, yellow house in the woods. I was soaked in fear sweat. It was still dark and I had just had a bad dream. I wanted the comfort of my mommy, so I slipped my tiny legs over the edge of my big boy bed and stretched until my toes brushed the cold hardwood floor below. I dropped and then scampered into my momās room next door, my feet making soft, scuffling noises as I went. Using a nearby chair, I clambered up and into my momās enormous bed. It was summer in the Midwest, and the nights were hot. My mom was sleeping naked above the sheets, flat on her back. Her long, blonde hair spread out across her pillow in a cascading fan that was almost blue in the predawn light. She was barely in her 20s, full of soft, round youth. I gazed at her round, sleeping face, so peaceful and angelic, and all fear was brushed aside and instantly forgotten. I sat down, tucking my legs under me, and stared at her for a long time. I studied her long, yellow eyelashes, the curve of her eyebrows that swooped gracefully across her wide forehead like the antennae of a butterfly, her mouth open and expelling the deep, slow, rhythmic breath of sleep.Ā
As I sat there, I became aware of a gradual lightening of the room. A wide window was set in the eastern wall of her room. Because the summer air was warm, the curtains were drawn back and the sashes ajar to let in a breeze. Just outside the window, a short strip of lawn separating the house from a narrow dirt road could be seen. And, beyond that, a dense wood of deciduous trees.
As I gazed through the window, curious as to the source of the growing light, the forest began to darken as the sky behind the trees grew steadily lighter. Then, slowly, magically, beams and streaks of golden light began to emanate through the interstices between tree trunks. Above the forest, the sky gradually turned pale blue, then pink, then orange. The trees were glowing green now and the room was alight with a golden-green aura. This was the first time I had ever seen the sun rise. I was amazed and awestruck.Ā
I had never seen anything so wonderful, so beautiful, so pure. My head and my heart ached with some kind of feeling that I couldnāt comprehend. The entire universe opened up within my mind, blooming and explodingāa flower of psychic fire. It was as if I were being born, sliding forth from the womb of the Cosmos. It was as if the Hand of God was reaching through those radiant shafts of dawn light with intangible fingers, gently piercing my watering eyes, opening the Door of Infinite Possibility within my brain. It was the kind of feeling so profound that it could shake a person all the way down to the deepest cellars of their soul. This singular, perfect, brand-new moment was too big, too large, and too full of muchness to be held within a single mind, much less that of a toddler.
A new kind of fear filled my heart, one I had never felt before, one I could not understand, and one that I have rarely felt since. Terrified and awestruck, I couldnāt be alone; I had to wake up my mommy. As I reached down to shake her awake, I caught the light spilling over her reposed form with glowing tendrils of gold and red and green, touching the soft downy hairs that covered her arms and face, filling them with light. And, just like that, she was alight and shimmering with a golden radiance. I held her in my eyes, enraptured and in love with this vision of my mother as a golden goddess, dazzling and transcendent. I was simply overwhelmed. Just like with the rising sun, I couldnāt behold or comprehend such profound beauty and purity and I began to cry.
My mom slowly rose up into consciousness and it was like watching a diver swim up to break the surface of a still pond. Slowly, her face began to move with a thousand tiny, almost imperceptible, tremors. Like the dawn sky, her face gradually changed color, steadily growing pink and flush. Her eyelids quivered and her eyelashes fluttered. Sleepily, she looked at me, her eyes hooded, filled with confusion and the broken remnants of unknowable dreams.
"Whatās up, Doc?" She murmured.
"M-Mommy!" I said, my voice strained through wracking sobs, pointing out the window. I wanted to tell her how amazing and awesome the dawn was. I wanted to tell her that I have experienced a perfect Unity with All There Is and that I have felt the Love of the Universe fill up the whole of my being. But I was only three. I didnāt really understand what was happening, and if I did, I didnāt have the vocabulary to explain.
"The sunās coming out!" I managed.
Confused, she followed my gaze and the aim of my tiny, chubby finger to where the sun was just now appearing above the tree-tops, an enormous cosmic ball of orange-colored chocolate melting into the bright green leaves, which were burning from the inside with viridian light.
"Itās. So. Beautiful," I whispered, my throat aching and choked with tears.
My mom laughed. She had a special laugh that she saved for me for when I was being especially precocious. It was comforting. It eased the fear and ache and hurt of the Muchness. She sat up next to me, putting one slender arm around my shoulders, so that we could look out at the sky together.
āYeah, I suppose it is.ā
We sat like that until the sun rose completely up and above the forest, our eyes hurting from staring. When the dawn was completely and properly over, she lay back down on her back with a yawn.Ā
"Come here, kiddo." She murmured, drowsily. "Letās go back to sleep."
I nodded and curled up in the warm, comforting space between her ribcage and an outstretched arm. She was still afire with the light streaming through the open window, but now that the sun was up where I was used to seeing it, the terrible profundity of its light was mostly gone. Birds were beginning to raise a nattering, chirping chorus outside and a normal, uneventful day was beginning. My mom slowly ceased to be a brilliant, empyrean entity, and reverted back to being just my mommy and I was relieved. I closed my eyes and let myself be soothed by her familiar scents of soap, summer sweat, and cigarette smoke.
As I lay there, I resolved to always remember this moment. Something in me said that this experience was Important, perhaps something that happens perhaps once or twice in a lifetime. This same intuition told me that I may need this moment as a life raft later as I moved on through my life. And it also told me that, when I was old enough, I might understand why this moment made me hurt and happy and terrified and amazed and sad all at the same time.
The Gray Man called it The Vent. It was a rectangular trench in the ground, about fifteen feet wide and very, very deep. I didn't want to go into it.
But I knew that if he wanted me to go there, I could not refuse him. The Gray Man hadā¦ ways.
I gazed into The Vent. Despair overwhelmed me.
It descended at a sharp angle, piercing the ground like some ancient titan had hammered a huge square pinion into the earth, then smoothly pulled it out. There was a blood red glow coming from its depths, so far back I could hardly see it. A hot air rose from up from it; dry, like the heat from a stove. The floor was covered in a mass of pulpy, dirty, off-white matter ā tumorous lumps growing up from the dirt.
āGo on,ā the Gray Man said. āYou need to see. To understand the Great Work we are doing here.ā
I trembled. Hesitant. I didnāt want to go into it.
But whether the Gray Man somehow coerced me, or if I utilized my own free will, I hopped down into that hot trench.
The white, distended masses on the ground were wet and smelled like raw, freshly cut meat.
I squinted down the length of The Vent but could only see the crimson glow at the far end.
I didnāt know what the Gray Man wanted me to see. Or how far I was supposed to go before I saw it. I weaved my way through stinking, corpuscular masses, so deep down in the tunnel I could no longer see the sky, and before long I was in the shadows between the opening of The Vent and the red glow ahead.Ā
There, in the darkness, I sensed the tunnel opening up to either side of me.
tK-K! tK-K! tK-K! To my left, a sound like the clearing of a phlegmatic throat.
I froze where I stood, a sense of cold dread turning my insides to water.Ā
From one side, a trio of short, stout figures came shuffling into view, silhouetted by the radiance from below. They moved forward on stiff legs, bodies swinging back and forth with an odd, mechanical grinding.Ā
I recoiled and crab-walked back toward the light. My hands, now wet and slimy, slipped and I tumbled onto my back.
tK-K! tK-K! tK-K! One of them coughed.
I backed away, quickly, tripping over the spongiform masses growing along the floor and falling back into it. It was slick, sticky, and altogether unwholesome.
I rolled over. I panicked, unable to get my hands and feet back under me.
tK-K! tK-K! tK-K! The short, rotund figures made their creepy, grinding, see-sawing way toward me.
As they entered the light, terror and incomprehension flooded my brain. tK-K!
Impressions: pale flesh stretched over metal. Bile and drool and piss steaming. Oil and gears. The stink of unwashed skin and rust.
Children! They were children!
My mind couldnāt fully comprehend the horrors lurching towards me.
I lurched forward and stumbled past them, blindly trying to get away; to put as much space between me andā¦ whatever these things were.
I saw an eye, bright green as fresh cut grass, midway down the side of one of the swaying, clicking child-things. That round, viridian eye followed me as I finally managed to scramble to my feet and run.Ā
tK-K! tK-K! tK-K!Ā
Sobbing and whimpering in terror, beyond thought, I mistakenly fled deeper into the ventānot toward the open air like anyone in their right mind would do, but toward the blood-red light, taking the shortest route away from the horrible child-machines.
tK-K! tK-K! tK-K! I stumbled into a sort of fleshy doorway and was bathed in red light.
I turned. Behind me, the squat, lumpish things were slowly turning around, clumsy on their wide steel feet.
I could see up the shaft of the vent behind me, and I could now see that the white lumpish things vaguely formed the shape of a man. A man who had been reduced to lumps of cancerous fat and stretched out hundreds of yards.
tK-K! tK-K! tK-K!
I stumbled backward into the doorway behind me to be bathed in blinding red light.
Little did I know, the real horrors were yet to come.
She drove along the darkened road, not knowing where she was going, only knowing that she had to get away from where she was. It was past midnight, and a new moon was a black hole cut in the fabric of the sky. Her car wound along a deserted, woodland roadāa stretch of road the old folks in the small town she had stopped at to top off her gas tank said was haunted. Haunted by a ghost who, like a siren, seduced travellers and then stole their souls.
She laughed aloud at the idea of horny, soul-gobbling ghosts and turned up her radio a bit louder. And though she found the idea of seductive spirits ridiculous, the idea of being seduced was very serious. She bit her lip. It had been a long time since she had last been seduced, and now that the idea of it came to her, the thought of it quickly rushed in, wrapping her in an all-consuming grip. She thought about hands and lips and hot breath brushing across her skin. She thought about the push and pull of desire, the gravity of bodies rushing together. Her skin tingled, her mouth went dry, and her entire body seemed to throb and pulse with every heartbeat. Her vision began to swim, and she had to pull over to try to orient herself before she blindly drove off the road.
Her headlights cut a pale swath of wan light into the trees as she got out of her car into the balmy night air, taking big gulps of it and then emptying her lungs with a loud sigh. She was suddenly overcome with the desire to look up at the stars, invisible in the city she was from, but a blinding multitude out here in the middle of nowhere. She climbed onto the trunk of her car, lay back, and gazed up at the sky with the sound of some bassy pop song on the carās radio vibrating the metal and fiberglass beneath her.
Before she could stop herself, she began to fantasize again about being seduced, and she found her hands roaming across her body through her thin summer dress, running around its contours and exploring her skin. She imagined they were the hands of a new lover, eagerly discovering the landscape of her for the first time. Her fingers caressed the inside of her neck, along her ribcage, down to her hips. Lost in her fantasy, she slipped her thumbs into the waistline of her underwear and tugged them down over her ankles and dropped them carelessly to the ground.
As her hands reached between her legs, her hips rose to meet them. Looking up at the wheeling stars, she eagerly touched her aching flesh, which immediately grew wet at the contact. She took her time, thinking about a slow, yet eager new lover memorizing her aching folds with his fingertips.
Just as she dipped her fingers inside, a chill gust of air suddenly blew across her. It was such a sharp contrast to the dead summer air that she gasped and sat up, pulling her thin dress down over her exposed thighs and buttocks. She could swear there was a presence watching her, just beyond the treeline.
āIs someone there?ā She shouted, suddenly very afraidā¦ but, if she was being honest, also still incredibly aroused. Despite the stranger danger, the idea of being watched wasā¦ thrilling.
I had woken up in my little room in my grandparentsā big, yellow house in the woods. I was soaked in fear sweat. It was still dark and I had just had a bad dream. I wanted the comfort of my mommy, so I slipped my tiny legs over the edge of my big boy bed and stretched until my toes brushed the cold hardwood floor below.
I dropped and then scampered into my momās room next door, my feet making soft, scuffling noises as I went. Using a nearby chair, I clambered up and into my momās enormous bed. It was summer in the Midwest, and the nights were hot. My mom was sleeping naked above the sheets, flat on her back. Her long, blonde hair spread out across her pillow in a cascading fan that was almost blue in the predawn light. She was barely in her 20s, full of soft, round youth. I gazed at her round, sleeping face, peaceful and seraphic, and all fear was brushed aside and instantly forgotten. I sat down, tucking my legs under me, and stared at her for a long time. I studied her long, yellow eyelashes, the curve of her eyebrows that swooped gracefully across her wide forehead like the antennae of a butterfly, her mouth open and expelling the deep, slow, rhythmic breath of sleep.Ā
As I sat there, I became aware of a gradual lightening of the room. A wide window was set in the eastern wall of her room. Because the summer air was warm, the curtains were drawn back and the sashes ajar to let in a breeze. Just outside the window, a short strip of lawn separating the house from a narrow dirt road could be seen. And, beyond that, a dense wood of deciduous trees.
As I gazed through the window, curious as to the source of the growing light, the forest began to darken as the sky behind the trees grew steadily lighter. Then, slowly, magically, beams and streaks of golden light began to emanate through the interstices between tree trunks. Above the forest, the sky gradually turned pale blue, then pink, then orange. The trees were glowing green now and the room was alight with a golden-green aura. This was the first time I had ever seen the sun rise. I was amazed and awestruck.Ā
I had never seen anything so wonderful, so beautiful, so pure. My head and my heart ached with some kind of feeling that I couldnāt comprehend. The entire universe opened up within my mind, blooming and explodingāa flower of psychic fire. It was as if I were being born, sliding forth from the womb of the Cosmos. It was as if the Hand of God was reaching through those radiant shafts of dawn light with intangible fingers, gently piercing my watering eyes, opening the Door of Infinite Possibility within my brain. It was the kind of feeling so profound that it could shake a person all the way down to the deepest cellars of their soul. This singular, perfect, brand-new moment was too big, too large, and too full of muchness to be held within a single mind, much less that of a toddler.
A new kind of fear filled my heart, one I had never felt before, one I could not understand, and one that I have rarely felt since. Terrified and awestruck, I couldnāt be alone; I had to wake up my mommy. As I reached down to shake her awake, I caught the light spilling over her reposed form with glowing tendrils of gold and red and green, touching the soft downy hairs that covered her arms and face, filling them with light. And, just like that, she was alight and shimmering with a golden radiance. I held her in my eyes, enraptured and in love with this vision of my mother as a golden goddess, dazzling and transcendent. I was simply overwhelmed. Just like with the rising sun, I couldnāt behold or comprehend such profound beauty and purity and I began to cry.
My mom slowly rose up into consciousness and it was like watching a diver swim up to break the surface of a still pond. Slowly, her face began to move with a thousand tiny, almost imperceptible, tremors. Like the dawn sky, her face gradually changed color, steadily growing pink and flush. Her eyelids quivered and her eyelashes fluttered. Sleepily, she looked at me, her eyes hooded, filled with confusion and the broken remnants of unknowable dreams.
"Whatās up, Doc?" She murmured.
"M-Mommy!" I said, my voice strained through wracking sobs, pointing out the window. I wanted to tell her how amazing and awesome the dawn was. I wanted to tell her that I have experienced a perfect Unity with All There Is and that I have felt the Love of the Universe fill up the whole of my being. But I was only three. I didnāt really understand what was happening, and if I did, I didnāt have the vocabulary to explain.
"The sunās coming out!" I managed.
Confused, she followed my gaze and the aim of my tiny, chubby finger to where the sun was just now appearing above the tree-tops, an enormous cosmic ball of orange-colored chocolate melting into the bright green leaves, which were burning from the inside with viridian light.
"Itās. So. Beautiful," I whispered, my throat aching and choked with tears.
My mom laughed. She had a special laugh that she saved for me for when I was being especially precocious. It was comforting. It eased the fear and ache and hurt of the Muchness. She sat up next to me, putting one slender arm around my shoulders, so that we could look out at the sky together.
āYeah, I suppose it is.ā
We sat like that until the sun rose completely up and above the forest, our eyes hurting from staring. When the dawn was completely and properly over, she lay back down on her back with a yawn.Ā
"Come here, kiddo." She murmured, drowsily. "Letās go back to sleep."
I nodded and curled up in the warm, comforting space between her ribcage and an outstretched arm. She was still afire with the light streaming through the open window, but now that the sun was up where I was used to seeing it, the terrible profundity of its light was mostly gone. Birds were beginning to raise a nattering, chirping chorus outside and a normal, uneventful day was beginning. My mom slowly ceased to be a brilliant, empyrean entity, and reverted back to being just my mommy and I was relieved. I closed my eyes and let myself be soothed by her familiar scents of soap, summer sweat, and cigarette smoke.
As I lay there, I resolved to always remember this moment. Something in me said that this experience was Important, perhaps something that happens perhaps once or twice in a lifetime. This same intuition told me that I may need this moment as a life raft later as I moved on through my life. And it also told me that, when I was old enough, I might understand why this moment made me hurt and happy and terrified and amazed and sad all at the same time.
I was born on September 11, 1970. I didnāt necessarily ask for it, but here we are.
For the longest time, I didnāt remember much of my childhood ā or even some of my young adulthood. I have some happy memories, certainly. But those moments of happiness are interspersed with moments of intense violence and terror. Most of which I had locked away in a vault within my mind, deep, deep down and forgotten.
And so I lived with secret monsters. Secret even to myself.
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The sun is burning too brightly, and Iām standing on the edge of a vast, barren field littered with garbage and bones. In the distance stand weird buildings of unknown and sinister industrial purposes. White and gray and Brutalist, they shimmer in the heat haze rising from the field.
I can almost make out a blurry figure standing at the far edge of the field, small in the distance and made of shadow and noise. I squint to try to make out a hint of detail, but squinting only makes them waver in the sickly shimmering air. A low, nearly inaudible rumble emanates from them that I can hear from even far away; a hideous growl of warning.
Iām terrified. But I must approach them. Despite their terrible presence, I need to know.
I stumble across the treacherous field. The figure stands there inert, wavering in the heat. I can feel their eyes on me, full of quiet, powerful menace. They sound off with a roar that bends and ripples the air and lifts dirt from the ground. It nearly knocks me over.
My legs turn liquid in terror. But still I lurch forward. I need to know. I need to see.
Sweating, eyes aching from straining in the bright, wavering air, I finally come to stand before them. And even standing nose-to-nose, I canāt quite make out their face as it shifts and melts and buzzes and blurs, like an analog television switched between stations, picking up phantom images and sounds from some unfathomable dimension that exists only in the static.
They are fury. They are rage. They are tooth and claw, hammer and club, knife and fire. They are the urge to survive above all else.
They speak. Their voice is a cacophony of buzzing saws, howls of rage, and the methodical drumbeat of entropy.Ā
āIn the end,ā they say. āI will devour everything you love.ā
I drop to my knees in supplication. Tears and snot running down my face. I know they speak the truth. All is lost just so that I might live.
And what would I be without them? Who else will protect me from all the horrible, dreadful things out there, beyond the field?
Roving gangs of unemployed graphic designers terrorize our neighborhood, spraying their tags on every blank surface in exquisitely rendered Garamond and Minion Pro. Artful and contemporized reimaginings of corporate logos adorn bus stop signs and electrical transformers. The water tower down near the tracks is covered with complimentary colored polygons and infographics.
Occasionally, turf wars will break out between the Serif and San-serif factions. A scream woke us up at four a.m. last night: āTimes New Roman foā life!ā It was followed by gunshots and then sirens.
Sure, our drug lords are now referred to as Creative Directors, but at least the packages our meth comes in are tastefully designed.
