Faces Melting

-Faces Melting-
by
Keaton Foster

There are many. Dare I say plenty. All of them walking around. Fools so kind, they themselves always have the time. They are not concerned, nor in their mind should they ever be. They have their God and they are sure that he won’t ever abandon them. They are certain that where they are going and what they are seeing is all part of a greater plan. A purpose beholden to them alone. We are alike in that way, except what I see is nothing like what they see. Where they see meaning and purpose, I see the frailty of our species. Where they see God, I see truth. And I see a greater darkness. An omission on their part.

While I was on my way—where? Who cares. Why? Who knows—I was just going. I was just doing what I do. Walking around in a world that I am increasingly uncomfortable with. People were scattered all about. Some stepped quite close, but most were going a different way. A way far from me. Far from view. Out into the ether of humankind. Out into the wilderness of their own, dare I believe, tragic lives. Never do I follow. I just make my own way, frequently stopping to observe. Taking mental notes that I use to fill every blank page.

Flush in this sea of humanity, no single detail escapes me. No truth or darkness can avoid my glare. I know damn near all of it because I fear that I myself have lived it. I see what few can, or ever will. I am acutely attuned to spotting what does not belong. What is out of place. What has in even the slightest way changed. It’s a gift that I would not wish upon any other soul. This gift comes from a lifetime of terrible emotional and physical pain. Thus, such a way of existing is no doubt heavily rooted in survival. I have, and will always, do whatever it takes. I know that I am unlike most of them.

As I walk along, sometimes blurry people suddenly come into a greater focus. Stopping me in my tracks. Waiting, looking them up and down, observing every possible detail that can be found, and all that I can see is unlike anything before. Unlike anything that I was sure was possible. All of it, something not to be believed. Something that will take all of my imaginable strength not to run and flee from. Something that I alone am certainly meant to see because I know that if anyone else within the slightest proximity was seeing it, then they would be screaming in sheer terror.

First, I say nothing. I do not move. Simply, I refuse. The longer I stare, the more and more I begin to truly dread what it is I am seeing. I am so unsure. All of it, unclear. The people within a scream all look somehow horrific. Frightening metamorphic piles of walking flesh. Their faces, every damn one of them, melting. Falling off their bones, exposing to me their very souls. It is as if I am looking into movable pits of obliterated darkness. It is as if I am seeing something that no other being has ever been capable of. So here I stand and watch, marveling at the madness. Both theirs and certainly mine.

Such observation has always been what I’m unsurpassed at. I can see things that most others don’t, and when I see them, I can take mental pictures with my mind. Pictures detailed to the nth degree. Pictures that regardless of time, I can pull back up and draw from. Pictures that a lifetime later still clutter the rafters of my over-expansive head.

Often I refer to it as my very own rolodex of photophasmatic ideas. Morphable images of change. Pliable concepts taken from everyday life, made into something that I can deal with. Made into something that can be expressed. But I must admit that what I am seeing on this day is way beyond all that I am comfortable with. It is something that I could only ever wish to forget.

Over and over, I keep asking myself, what could be meant by their faces melting?

I know that such a question will ultimately require an answer. But I also know that a vision like this means something more powerful than can be at this time determined. I just have to let it stew. I have to let it fester. Let it reside in the darkest corners of my increasingly troubled mind.



Faces Melting
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2015.