DANIEL MEIERER

     Whenever I dream, an overgrown swamp almost always greets me. So vibrant it I am almost certain there is more than merely me lost in la la land. The realism of this dream world was intense enough that every one of my senses was triggered: I could feel the overgrowth on my feet and the mist in the air; I could hear the beautiful chorus of thousands of animals trying to breed; I could even taste the algae and moss assaulting my nose. Whenever I found myself in this majestic marsh, I always remembered the dreams as if it had merely transpired before I went to sleep, as opposed to while I was asleep.

 

      I have grown accustomed to seeing this familiar location whenever I drift off. It has come to the point that this became the perfect representation of my happy place. The thick mist was lurking over the swamp, giving it the usual air of a mystical grotto. So, as usual, I found myself standing at the edge of the algae riddled waters. The humid air was making my long, black hair frizz out, where a group of gnats were attempting to weave themselves. As I stared down at the waters, I began to notice that the fish were all focused directly on me. Stranger yet, my sanctuary’s typical set of bass, trout, and catfish all seemed to be now represented by a mixture of large catfish and strangely colored koi. I believe I saw a turtle or two lurking by the shore. All of whom were turned directly towards me. I took a few steps to the left. They turned and watched me. I repeated this action, and so they repeated rotating underwater to keep an eye on me.

 

     As I began to retreat from the unsettling sight, I noticed these were not the only beasts to consider me a point of interest. This infested trunk wasn’t the only peculiarity. I had been in this serene world more than enough times to have practically memorized it. The noticeable change was to the trees. One, in particular, leads me to steer clear of it. A sea of spiders, centipedes, and maggots skittered and squirmed their way across the bark. Pestilence wasn’t the only concept represented by the trees. The one serene and peaceful clearing I had spent countless nights in was now a museum of twisted art. Flora you would expect in a forest of nightmares. A tree with lifeless, featureless figures hung eternally swaying as if they had just jumped.

 

     “Humanity is quite amusin’.” A thick, Cajun voice echoed through the forest. It boomed through my mind yet, somehow, it felt as natural to this forest as the rhythmic cicadas.

 

     From the tree’s roots, the vines of a bramble bush began to engulf the trunk. Sliding along the bark with the grace of a snake, the ivy began to entangle around the feet of the hanged figures. As the thorns climbed their way through their skin, the skin stretched over where an average human’s mouth would be sucked inwards as they let out an inhuman wail. Muffled by their own deformities, I was frozen in horror as the vines continued to take them in.

 

    “Dey can make de most petty’a problems and some’ow turn it inta a reason ta give up. Dey take de life we ‘ave allowed dem all dese millennia and squander it. Wastin’ potential, snuffing out a flame we assumed would burn brightly. Dey concluded snuffin’ out dat light would end deir sufferin’.” The disembodied voice boomed.

 

     As the vines started to reach each lynched loon’s chest, the screaming stopped. Frozen, mouth open and appearing as if a bag of flesh had been forced over their heads as they sucked the skin into their maw, their muffled screams would melt into a chorus of contorted cackling. One after another, each would succumb to their heinous, hysterical laughter. The Cajun voice continued, voice dripping with delight in an unsettlingly perverse tone.

 

     “Instead, dey become some of our most efficient forms’a energy and entertainment. “  Each laugh seemed genuine, if not morbid, in their delight for their struggle. Some form of venom, surely, I thought. I would learn soon enough that this was a very innocent hypothesis in comparison to the truth.

 

     My voice finally came to me, allowing me to demand an answer from the disembodied voice. “Who are you?! Why are you in my sanctuary?!”

 

     The vines coiled around the man’s neck. It was there I realized that the same vines crawling their way up these corpses were the same material from which they hung. As adrenaline heightened my senses, I began to see the thorns digging into their necks. As much as I wanted to tear my eyes away, confident the show I would be presented would disturb me more, I found myself watching as if it were a train wreck. I was correct in my assumption that the disturbing visuals would not relent. The brambles began to squirm their way into the jagged gashes their hanging had left behind. Nudging away their fellow thorns as they wriggled their way into the throats of its victims. I recoiled as I clearly saw the vines squirming under the flesh. I watched as they tangled up the spine and began coiling around the jaw. My hand met my mouth as the vines began poking and prodding at the skin over the right eye socket. With a burst of the flesh, spewing blood and pus towards me, I ran. I tried to, at least. My legs had finally listened to my brain’s frantic cries to run, but it did me little good. Pain tore through my legs as I found myself held by the very same brambles I was watching consume the corpses.

 

     “Is dat what ya ‘ave taken ta callin’ dis place? Delightful.” The Cajun creature continued to chide.

 

     Thinking the worst, I of course began to panic. I was fortunate enough to be granted my hunting knife. Sadly, I was unfortunate enough to had the habit of keeping the large blade in my boot. The boot that was now engulfed by thorny vines. I couldn’t tear at them with my hands for, even discounting the thorns, I was confident that I would find myself in a position similar to a hog-tied pig. I struggled and attempted to tear the vines away by kicking, but like a Chinese finger trap the more I struggled, the more I found myself in continually constricting circumstances. The vines rooted my shins to the ground while another tendril daintily arose from the entangled mass at my feet. As I slung a mixture of French and English curses at him, I tried to make a grab for it. Just as I expected, I found my hands tangled together. The vines were stronger than I had anticipated. I couldn’t move the lower half of my legs or my arms no matter how hard I struggled. Through the agony of the thorns, through the blood lubricating my escape attempts, I only found myself hopeless.

 

     The tip of the tendril continued its way upwards. I tried to yank my head away from it; Mouth clenched shut fearing I would soon feel thorns carving up my throat. Instead, it gently pushed my chin until I was forced to stare at the hanging tree once more. The vines were blooming. No longer able to consider them brambles, I realized the vines were not an instrument of the voice. They were the source. From the hung creatures’ eyes sockets had sprouted flowers. One large, red flower per eye socket. An orb sat in the center of five petals arranged in the shape of a cartoonish representation of a star. This ball was almost pure red with lines trailing from a black slit along the center. As these orbs shifted and rolled within the center, I realized these were eyes. More were beginning to sprout throughout the tangled web engulfing the tree.

 

     “It is a cute name for ya ta ‘ave given it, but dis is no Sanctuary. Nor is it aa dream world. Consider dis a realm dat allows de two of us ta talk. I am not de only one dat uses dese trees, ya kind ‘as proven ratha’ weak-willed in our otha’ attempts ta make first contact with some of your kind. Must condition ya.” The vines seemed amused, but then again, its voice rarely seemed to drift from a state of delight.

 

     The creature’s words sent tremors through my spine. A number of scenarios played through my mind. The vines coated humanoids a clear representation of what this creature's capabilities. “C-condition me for what?!” I finally managed to stutter out. The creature seemed to find my question amusing, giving me a jittery, creaky giggle that reeked of instability. If this creature could ever have been stable to begin with.

 

     A large group of figures cloaked in flowing black robes began to appear from behind the tree. A large mass that, like a wave, slowly crossed the clearing into the haze of trees directly behind me. Each obscured their faces using a porcelain mask. Each mask had a massive, haunting grin stretching across it, with two small horns popping out of the forehead. They were not allowed eye holes, so I am uncertain how it was they could wander through such a thick forest without walking head first into a tree. Out of reflex, I attempted to look over my shoulder to follow their progress, only to be given a thorny reminder of my restraints.

 

     “Ya kind amuses us. So many of ya are so easy ta cast aside dem morals wit' de right nudge. Not dat dese morals were well thought out in de first place. Always contradicted. Dey cast aside destruction and woe for dey believe dat dis goes against de natural order. Yet dey ignore what is in front of dem should dey look ta de ‘eavens. When dey learn de truth, it is amazin’ ‘ow quickly dey will latch ta deir actual superiors.”  Another, creaking laugh. I wish I knew where the voice was being produced. I have never wanted to punch a flower in the mouth, as the option had never occurred to me, but I held a deep desire to turn the creature into mulch.

 

     “I am gonna wager a guess I am talking to one of these so called superiors?” I finally managed to question, trying to keep a respectful tone for fear of joining his horrible ornaments.

 

     The creature laughed again before answering. “I ‘ave taken time ta read inta ya fun little fantasies. De legends born from our previous encounters. I believe what would best describe me, goin’ by dese mythological texts, would be a demigod. Dere are as many of us as dere are trees in dis forest.”

 

     I had not strayed far from this clearing in my dreams, but I could tell this was a vast forest. If what this creature said was true, and not just a fabric of my mind, then I couldn’t even fathom the consequences. “So, instead of a bearded man, our creators are.. Flowers.” I said, my voice betraying my mixture of disbelief and befuddlement. My emotions were in a state of confusion. Given this surely had to be a dream, I felt I may as well humor my subconscious.

 

     “Ya seem ta be mistaken. Many of us are born of circumstance and progression. Your kind may not ‘ave ever proven worthy of ascendin’, but a numba’ of other entities dat exist on your planet, among others, ‘ave lent demselves ta our numbers. I, for example, was born of the spores on ya world.” The vines made me begin believing that my subconscious seemed to be a little inconsistent.

 

     “You said you lot were too far away from us to contact us anywhere but here.” I questioned, confused as ever.

 

     This was answered with another merry little giggle. The question was never followed up on. He ignored it entirely as it continued. “Yet, as our many numbers stared down, dispersed and hidden among de blindin’ light of countless stars, we found ya species desiring ta worship us, and for a time dey did quite well even if dey got de who wrong, until y’all decided ta fuck it up.”

 

     “So.. We are ruled by southern accented Aliens?” I said, showing my conflicting belief.

 

     “ ‘ow I speak ‘as nothin’ ta do wit’ where I originate. Spores ‘ave little use for de ‘uman tongue. In orda’ ta communicate and betta’ understand de pawns on my board I was required ta learn ‘ow ta communicate wit’ you sorry lot. Someone ‘as ta set y’all straight. All de religions, while fun wit’ dere endless wars and endless energy ta consume, began ta grow more focused on bein’ all peaceful. Even actin’ like what we desired was peace among all ‘umans! Again, y’all are quite mistaken wit’ ‘out de universe works.” It responded.

 

     I found myself suspended in darkness. The vines kept me from falling, but all I could see was the gentle glow of the abomination’s many eyes. This glow soon became overshadowed by countless pinpricks of light. They began growing in number around me until I became aware a field trip was apparently in order.

 

     The vines forced my head down just as a source of light illuminated the pair of us. The creature still entangled around the tree but said tree was now hovering lifeless in the dark abyss. I still managed to find my breath. Further evidence to myself that this was merely a dream. I was forced to take in the image of a massive white star. The plasma fired off of it did not seem to harm my physical form, but I never had felt anything so hot. I could feel my blood literally boiling through my body. I felt my organs churn and a mass of liquid forming in my gut. Yet, I never passed on. I never woke up. I was forced to endure not only this pain but that damned plant’s rambling.

 

     “Below ya is a ‘opefully familiar sight. A star. Around it spins a few meaningless planets. Now, this goes on for a while, feedin’ us wit’ dere relentless energy. ‘owever, dis is not de force we desire most. Observe de universe, and see if ya understand.” The creature spouted out, as if he were delivering a sermon.

 

     The creature kept my head craned forward. I was stuck watching as the star began to burn hotter and hotter. I knew what was coming next, and there were no means for me to avoid it. The air began to grow hotter and hotter, and as if it became too much for the force to keep me in one piece, I began to feel my skin become affected. My hair and hoodie lighting itself up and turning me into as much of an inferno as churned beneath me. I was still, somehow, forced to watch. Watch as it drew closer and closer to me while my body withered away. I felt my skin peel and disintegrate. I felt my nerves fry, saw my blood evaporating into a steam around me.

 

     The vines on my face began to draw closer as my head burned away. The vines caught my eyes, suspending them exactly where they would have been if they were still in my head. It forced me to, for lack of a better term, look at myself. A mind-bending image followed as I saw that, for now, I existed as a pair of disembodied eyeballs held by a group of thorny vines.

 

     “Dat body was merely gonna burn away anyway. Now watch as de star began shredding layer afta' layer of plasma, sending it off in every direction until it is nothin’ more den a dot in de sky or a puncture in space.”

 

     The view changed. We now stood staring down at the center of a galaxy.

 

     “Dese elements, created only in de long lifespan of dese stars, are den pushed throughout de galaxy de reside in. Caught by de gravity of deir black hole and churned in a mixture of life and creation. Dat black ‘ole de creation of untold amounts of destruction. Every light ya see, every planet ya ‘eard of, every little speck of matter ya ‘ave come ta call reality. All of it requires destruction. Dis is de grandest scale I wish ta show dis concept to ya, so lets shift de focus ta somethin’ ya small creatures understand a little better. A perspective suited ta our pawns.” The vines seemed particularly fascinated with anything involving the universe around us. I never knew plants could be such philosophical astronomers. This merely added to my beliefs this was a dream.

 

     We were back at the clearing, my body thankfully intact. The ghost of the pain I will never soon forget etched throughout my body. I gasped for air, turned my eyeballs in their sockets. Anything that the brambles would allow. The vines jerked my head to stare off into the forest where a doe laid savaged on the ground.

 

     “A predator attacks a deer. It takes energy from the deer, but remains are left behind.”

 

     The scene appears to speed up as I am forced to watch the deer rapidly decompose.

 

     “Maggots, vermin, insects, bacteria, viruses, so many lovely lil creatures take advantage of de predator’s kill. Most importantly, though, de grass is allowed ta grow more lush thanks ta dat dyin’ body. Much like dese corpses, I am tangled around are slowly fuelin’ my rantin’.”

 

     I fear with all his rambling, I would never remove the vine’s voice from my head once I finally could wake.. Especially with how it seemed to be emanating from within my mind.

 

     “Yes, I am sure that if you did not have those you would be content being quiet.” I said, gaining the courage to mildly mock him.

 

     The creature didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. I suppose an insult from a creature that the vines surely saw as a comparable ant meant little.

 

     Another doe found its way to the patch of grass that had just grown. It bent down and began to gently nibble at it. The scent I usually associated with a freshly mowed grass hit my senses.  The vines prattled on.

 

     “As de grass is eaten, it lets out an odor, which ya experiencin’ right now, dat de local predators smell and relate ta deir prey.”

 

     A panther lunged from the treetops, enjoying the spoils of the hunt.

     

     “And de cycle begins anew.”

 

    I was starting to see the pattern he was hoping to show me. “So, I am gathering what your point is, is that... You are not too happy with the idea of peace? As the natural order you are speaking of relates to... Destruction breeds creation?” I questioned, uncertain with my response.

 

     The vines seemed pleased with my response. That, or merely pleased with continuing to hear its own voice. It was impossible to tell as it continued my thought. “And creation requires destruction. Ya species was close ta understandin’ dis.”

 

     A yin and yang comprised of a flowering group of vines with white flowers of various types, and a single large, withering black flower, blooming from luscious green vines on one half while a crinkled and flaking bundle of the same flowers turned a decayed black while a single white flower, the most beautiful one I had ever seen, sprouted from the withered bunch on the other half bloomed across a flourishing green planet that came into view. Not long before the entire planet withered before my eyes.

 

     “Yet ya always got a large assortment of dem shooin’ away de right ones. Ya species is becomin’ over run. Some of my kind see dis as a blessin’, but I see an issue. Soon, ya planet will ‘ave more of your kind on it den it can maintain. De ecosystem will become imbalanced, and soon enough, we will be left wit’ an empty Earth. We do not want an empty Earth.”

 

    For some reason, even if I was beginning to feel a horrific headache, the creature was beginning to make a bit of sense. “Alright, I am getting your motivations. Why come to me?” I said, my mind seeming to ache from the rush of information and peculiar sights.

 

     “Always liked your kinda. Dere ain’ a damn thing special about ya dat made me choose ya. Took ta dis realm quite well, but dat ain’ anything dat can’t be found elsewhere. ‘owever, I am goin’ ta use ya for our means. I ‘ave been needin’ a new ‘ost.” The vines cackled darkly as it revealed its intent.

 

     “I refuse.” I said immediately. The idea of anything taking control of my body, especially this creature, was revolting.

 

     However, a strange urge to allow him came to mind. I was conflicted, and I could not place what part of me could justify this creature playing my body like a puppet. Yet there I was, stilling and mulling the action over. I was only interrupted as the entire forest seemed to erupt. Laughter crashed in from all directions. It was all I could hear. I could feel the vibrations crashing through my body. Until, suddenly, I was staring up at the decrepit roof of my hut.

 

     I let out a small sigh of relief. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. At first, I thought the nightmare had been so intense, so realistic that I could still feel the phantom tendrils coiled around my legs. It was a silly thought, so I tried to look down and assure myself that my legs were fine. I couldn’t move. I fought, I struggled, but no matter what I did I could not change my position of staring up at the ceiling.

 

     I became aware that there was an intense pressure around my spine. My back felt like something was forcing it to stay straight. In fact, I felt this painful constriction throughout my body. As well, there was something odd about my vision. I couldn’t quite place it, but I was almost sure I could see more of my room before.

 

     As this thought crossed my mind, I felt movement. Not around me, inside of me. Like string was being pulled tight against my bones. More disheartening, I felt movement sliding through my right eye socket. I had seen more when I first closed my eyes. I was now missing one. The same flower from my dreams slowly came into my sight. A thick stalk of coiled vines leading from the back and disappearing out of my vision. I did not need to question where it was. I tried to scream, but my mouth appeared to be stitched shut. I wagered more vines were the culprit. I felt my cheek split open, vines pressing between the pieces of flesh. It began to move, my tongue forced to go with its desires. The same vines worked my jaw and, going by the horrible scratching I felt in my throat, my voice box. Among other things. To my horror, this lead to a familiar accent forcing its way out of my mouth.

 

     “Silly boy. Assumin’ dat we would ever ‘onor de choice of pawns.”