Alien Landscape

Sir Snik

i named him Sir Snik.

lately, especially because i've been accumulating pains like fat black paper stars in those shiny glass bottles, the flashes come more frequently. most of them are of malicious beings who make my eyes fly open quickly and my mouth muttering and pleading God for forgiveness. some of them are beautiful, but only as beautiful as deadly sirens and evil queen witches in fairytales where ugly only means black robes and bad make up.

Sir Snik appeared briefly; a bald old man bending over a metal book which he was writing on earnestly with a metal pen in clicks and ticks. he was dressed like an 18th century english gentleman and may or may not be a cyborg. there was only him in an endless room of blank white. could he be my ever elusive muse, storing away years of creative work?

so he created the Satyrans? he manipulated my attraction to Susan Lee? is he the engineer of the screaming horrors flashing in my head? this old fool is behind my transformation from a thinking being to a complaisant trend follower?

there was also a book i read which scared me quite badly called Scissorman. just typing his name gives me the chills. he is a nightmare from childhood nursery rhymes who is brought alive by an imaginative failure of a writer. Scissorman is a psychotic, amoral Edward Scissorhands. he carves bodies artfully in a blur of bloody metal. he is elegant and kisses the hands of maidens, young and old.

there are plenty of things to be afraid of in this world, like Scissorman. he may be a figment but what most people don't (or don't want to) understand is that he is as real as you and i. the difference between him and the rest of us is that he is invulnerable. he kills, corrupts and paralyzes minds. i see him even more clearly than i see my own reflection in the mirror.

he whispers evil into my ears which slowly evolves and disguises itself as my own thoughts. it sows the seeds of self hatred and fear. and now i'm sounding as cliched as bad lyrics from a black metal band.

but it's true. Scissorman is out there. why, he might even be my old Sir Snik. everything about him reeks of metal except his english clothes.

he might be disguising himself as the Satyrans or Kathlen's one-winged handsome knight, a creature of Andersen's . only when i woke up one morning with black bloody thoughts coming unbidden do i realise, he might be me.
Posted by NHJ 6/25/2006 12:22:00 am

Sunday, June 25, 2006