Nightmare’s Paradise By Andy Tu

I was dreaming in a space between my mind and yours. We floated on murky water, drifting in circles below branches that released fall leaves and slowly gathered frost. You had nothing to say except old things that you thought were new. My interest grew indifferent, and I began to tell you a story. It starts with a girl, a girl standing in a hotel room illuminated by stained moonlight. She twirls in front of a mirror, then backs away and gets down on her hands and knees. Moving across the tiles, she hides along the shadows near the wall as she crawls over the cracks that divide the floor, her eyes blending into the deficient darkness like touches of pastel. She watches you, watching her, afraid, but you’re more afraid.

Outside your window, a man walks along the alleyway, where he is found by another like her. He’s shaking, but she will calm him down. Eye contact. No words. Her tongue peeks out from between her lips. She can read his mind, like a psychic.

© 2014 Andy Tu

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