The Asymptotic Faery - The Writings of Allyson N. Jason

Samantha woke up and realized that her gray silk pillow was submerged in sweat. The smell was musty and sour. When she slightly moved her head, the pillow felt cold and jolting. The room was dark and she could hear an electric buzz coming from her muted television. She turned over and felt overwhelmed by paralysis. Her clock read 3:01 am. How did she manage to sleep so long and miss nearly an entire day?

She pushed her lower body off of the bed and lazily shifted herself into an upright sitting position. All she could think about was the night before. It didn’t seem real. Was it real? Some man with a dark green suit approached Samantha and told her that she would no longer be the same. He walked away afterwards and she instantly began to feel disoriented as if the world she just woke up in was an artificial setup of the world she was once familiar with. Everything looked the same, but felt quite different.

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Current Mood: Serious

This is my time…manifested in such obscurely-lit heights
Jaded by raven-claw reason
and stained by crimson blood sights

Knocked into some melody-ridden mirrored cave…turned inside out
belly up with an eye embedded in my exposed tongue
in view of one way out

Scores of dead bodies…come alive
explode within mid-rise
left are five

sacrifice, change, truth, birth and death
wrapped in the wings of startled suicide epiphany
delivered with bittersweet moist breath

This is my time…manifested in such obscurely lit heights
stabbed with a civilization of prophetic swords
in shifting essence of flickering lantern lights

|…|

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Current Mood: Indescribable

Under the bright warm green light, he fell fast asleep below a jet black sky teeming with pulsating stars as big as planets. His sleep state carried him into a very strange world.

As he slipped down into what seemed like a never-ending well made of smooth round-cornered stone blocks, rich forest-colored devils with emerald jewels for eyes and mouths that stretched open to reveal dancing screaming teeth, reached out to him with long two-fingered hands revealing semi-translucent, shiny, taut skin.

As he looked up while falling further below into…something…somewhere…he could see the coal black sky shrink to a tiny point which eventually disappeared.

He looked down and could finally see the end of the well. It was an open mouth with a large gleaming rapidly blinking eye in the middle. He felt he would die, feel excruciating pain or encounter a sensation which would obliterate him, but once his body fell through the open mouth and into the fluttering eye, he realized he was submerged in a very warm, embracing body of liquid. Liquid that composed the image of the large flickering eye.

Immediately, his mind and consciousness shifted and he experienced the perception of everyone that he had known and seen throughout his entire life. It was an indescribable and profound happening. He let out a mixed series of yowls, laughter, screams and indefinable vocalizations.

—-

Glenda leaned over the bed and looked at her husband. He was in a deep sleep. She decided to wear her exotic black sweater tonight with shimmering crystal sequins. It made her feel elegant and special.

Tomorrow she would be leaving to explore new opportunities. It was time. He looked so peaceful in bed. So very vulnerable and innocent.

He never saw her for who she was. She knew that once he awoke, he would still be asleep, but alive somewhere else. With her he was dead and tired. No longer did her beautiful green eyes create a stir in his soul. Those days were gone.

She decided that the disappearance of special days held great wisdom. They were mothers embedded within a world of watchful esper mothers, swirling around amongst one another with their glorious strands of pixie hair, shaking off gorgeous particles of intoxicating sighs and snowy loving whispers.

She was infinite birth and an apotheosis of all seasons.

—-

As all of the omniscient sensations emptied out of his body with each wild utterance, he felt the grasp of a hand becoming stronger around his left leg. The water felt so warm and fluid that he wondered if he was floating within a liquid illusion. He pushed his body around and saw that the hand was attached to no one. It bore a crisp-looking diamond ring with a gold band on the ring finger. The hand looked like it belonged to a woman. A woman with a slight pleasant build. Someone familiar but someone he couldn’t recall no matter how hard he tried. The skin was delicate; as if it would tear away from the hand upon the gentlest of touches.

He reached down to grab the hand around his left leg and saw that it disappeared and reappeared on his right leg. However, upon reappearance, the hand was now decayed-looking, mottled gray in hue and the skin was jaggedly broken in several areas with an old worn leathery texture. The diamond ring was now replaced by a bulbous black spider with its thick hairy legs clenched around the hand’s ring finger.

Something violently pulled him down into the liquid. He held his breath as he frantically felt his body moving further down into the liquid abyss. He could not make out any direction. He could not see and the temperature of the water became colder. So cold that he felt like he was going to become frozen. His body started to go into shock and he could no longer hold his breath due to time and panic. Just as he was about to give up, he felt his body land onto a soft springy surface. The coldness went away and he was no longer in liquid.

The area was dark but it began to brighten and reveal the interior of his bedroom. It was morning outside the open window next to his bed. The closets were open and his wife’s clothes and belongings were gone. He could not move or speak although everything was visible.

His wife came back in the room to stand in the doorway and look over at him again. He tried to call out to her but she could not hear him. He tried again and failed.

He could only hear echoes of his voice as he looked into her eyes. Staring into them conjured up a fervent fever of aching and longing within. Like the early days.

The room disappeared abruptly and Glenda appeared everywhere. Even as he blinked, visions of Glenda appeared as split-second snapshots, reaching out to him in a faraway distance. He looked down at his body and saw thousands of copies of her hands reaching out to feel, grab and seize him.

The floor, filled with faces and garments of Glenda, broke away and revealed the opening of the stone-made well. He began to fall forever…always seeing the beckoning and smiling face of Glenda at the bottom.

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She tried joking with him. Lifting her voice and seeing if he’d loosen up and eventually crack his usual crooked, warm smile. But something was wrong.

Very off.

Brian stared down at her with a very unsettling, piercing glare. The expression in his face was alarmingly serious and his eyes were hollow, empty and strange-looking, appearing much darker than usual.

Sharp instinct sent a jolt through her being and made her realize that her husband of 15 years was no longer there.  The presence standing before her, posing as Brian, felt gravely threatening and deadly; teeming with dark sadistic desires.

Caryn felt like if she said one more word to him or even reached out to touch him gently, he’d abruptly seize her by the neck with all of his capacity with wild eyes and strangle her lifeless.  She had never felt this energy from Brian and she was never scared of him nor did she ever have a reason to be. They had gotten into a typical mild argument earlier and now her attempt to break the ice had invoked the presence of a malevolent stranger.

Someone that had been lurking, undisturbed and asleep, within Brian since childhood.

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Current Mood: Introspective

What does it mean to be very human? How would we all look if we lived by our rawest behavioral codes? I notice that people are threatened by and very judgmental towards other who are “more human” than they are. I guess everything we do is human so to speak because we are humans doing whatever we do, but I am referring to “being human” as a way to describe a state of living in free expression of your natural instincts…no matter how odd they seem.

For example, I’ll get an urge to utter this nonsensical sound while sitting at my computer typing. It’s random and it doesn’t seem to many any sense…but the urge is there once in awhile. If I were in the room with someone else or with a group of people and totally expressed this, I’d probably startle others or make them think I was on something because it’s not kosher and “normal” behavior.
I sometimes get the urge to get up and let out a scream, get into a certain body position, moved my arms in a certain way, let out a guttural laugh or say a gibberish word or term that comes about from looking at an associated person or object. Some of these things relate to having synesthesia but I think on a basic level…they are still things that others might feel the need to do too. I censor all of these things when I am around people…because of course I’ve adapted to common social etiquette and I wouldn’t want anyone to perceive me as crazy, unpleasant or uncouth.

But what if we all just let go…lived in a state of complete natural expression and thinking? What would happen? Who would you be? What would you discover about yourself? How would society restructure itself overall? Would we develop a natural life rhythm as a social community?

I think we might be the only species that lives with censorship of our authentic natures.

I know I am not going to go out tomorrow and start behaving this way. My filters will remain on and I will continue to respect social etiquette more or less because I just don’t live in that kind of society but I still think about this from time to time. I also wonder if this makes any sense to others. I like to think many can relate to this and that everyone in their own way has their “weird urges” and impulses that they hold back all the time…without thinking…because we’ve been socialized.

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Current Mood: Introspective

There’s an image that keeps popping up in my mind right now; a woman with a see-through belly showcasing multi-colored layered sand art below two prominent tits featured as large bulbous fishbowls each filled with exotic, frenzied-swimming, darting, glimmer-eyed fish. I don’t see her head in most images, but when I do; her head is vaguely displayed as a spinning globe cocked to the side with a gold ring around it and a matching neck platform.

Maybe I should sketch this down in my sketch book. There has to be some message in this image somewhere as it keeps springing up.

I don’t see her lower body, but I am thinking that I’d draw them as two skyscraper-like buildings. From the feet (first floors) all the way up to the top part of the inner thighs are many stories or floors with stairways that lead one floor to the next. There would be little people running up and down busily throughout these floors constantly performing tasks.

The pelvis up to the lower abdomen, which is right below the sand art belly, would be a birthing factory of some sort. The sand that falls from the belly into the pelvis-abdomen factory would have divine powers that produce life. The sand periodically leaking from the belly area into the factory, like sand seeping into the lower channel of an hour glass, would produce hyper and purpose-fixated homunculi…

Each contributing colored layer of sand from the belly would represent a different vital ingredient for form whole bodies. The factory would incubate the sand mixture and in a certain time period eventually release a newly born but recycled humanoid. That’s where all those little people running back and forth in the skyscraper building legs would come from. Each person would have a maximum number of tasks to perform upon birth. As the last task is completed, their life span would end and they’d shrink and dry up into a sandy powder of diverse hues and textures. Another homunculus would come and perform a cleaning task with a ceramic container, broom and dustpan to gather up the sand decay and empty it into one of the many small escalator-deposit openings located within the walls on each floor.

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Current Mood: Introspective & Motivated

My favorite thing to do is to tell a story and to illustrate it in some fashion.

The art piece “Ginger’s Song” has gone through a lot of revisions. The character even looked different in the beginning. Not drastically so, but Ginger was less refined. I like that her features remain odd and characteristic so that you know that although she resembles a human, she belongs in the fantasy realm.

Ginger’s Song is a short story concept that I have yet to write. The story is about a young girl with a talent for playing the piano. While practicing in her room on her scaled-down piano that her mother purchased for her years ago, she thinks of a new tune that she’s quite fond of and wishes to try out on the piano. At first, the tune doesn’t sound right. Some notes are off and it’s incomplete.

When she manages to finish composing the tune, something very fantastical happens. One of the walls in her bedroom starts glowing around the edges and eventually breaks away completely to reveal a hidden world. She sees a valley of lush green rolling hills, marbled white fluffy clouds in the sky with a brilliant and crisp sun amid a pale lavender sky tinged with lemon tints and an inviting quaint little schoolhouse with children playfully running around on the grounds not too far in the distance.

Ginger realizes that this special song that she’s created is the key to this enchanting world. Anytime she wants to visit, she knows she can play her song, Ginger’s Song.

Although, I’ve decided to showcase my artwork here as well, more of my illustrations can be viewed at:

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Current Mood: Indescribable

As Patrick pulled up to the remote hospital near the outskirts of town, he noticed that the parking lots and the premises overall were empty. There was only one car near the front of the hospital entryway and it appeared to be an abandoned slick black Camaro. The Camaro had odd characters carved into the paint job and the tires were missing.

Patrick wondered if the hospital was closed. He also wondered what kind of hospital this was. It was strange and in a very remote part of town that he’d never been to. Why did his friend recommend this place to him last week? There was no one here. Could he even get in?

Patrick took his cell phone out of his pocket and decided to call Thomas. He wanted to verify that he was at the correct address but Patrick noticed that his cell phone could not pick up a signal. He looked again at the building through his car window and saw that the street address matched what he wrote down on paper.

1771.

He was certainly on the street of Uriah. He was on time for his appointment. He also knew that there was no other hospital around the area, so this had to be it.

Patrick decided to get out of his car and walk up to the entrance. As soon as he neared two feet of the entry doors, he was asked to insert his driver’s license into a nearby slot on the left wall for identification. This bewildered Patrick but he figured since he had an appointment, this might be the way that the hospital allowed certain people in during, what seemed so far to be, off-hours.

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Current Mood: Indescribable

Her honey caked legs ran faster and faster into darkness. The Madness crept up and bit into her arm. She screamed and spit up millions of lugubrious cherries.

These cherries were ripe and they circled around in the air creating a nautilus pattern. The pattern developed a tragic noise and that noise gave birth to shallow life forms below the earth who dreamt of stomping repeatedly over the heads of kingdom sized boys with no names…

In the kitchen he sat worried…waiting to lick her legs. He wondered if she’d be back….He had vanilla plans that would rip her tongue out of her mouth and splay it open to expose misty tentacles grabbing for serious life. Life that sexed death and death that loved nothing.

She came through the door with pomegranates lodged in her face. The seeds underneath trembled and bled and juice teemed in between the layers of her skin.

This juice jerked out of her skin and fused into a solid sticky form that stood in front of him threatening to kill. He would not urge but he wanted…

Madness loomed and the house folded into milky legs…they ran across perky terrain that epitomized flat dimensions…

In the middle of the road sat a bowl of fruit…an eyeball apple was selected and bit into by a hyper pigmented mouth. Visions were induced and fragments became depths…

Sugar crystals formed everywhere…

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Current Mood: Indescribable

She knocked him down and stared into his soul. He became restless and cried out for help. She silenced him…

Later on, her chair rocked while she sat but her legs were still and her arms folded. Her mouth was tight and pursed and he was mummified in front of the fire. The rug coiled back and forth creating paralysis between his eyes. *water sizzles in the back*

She got up slow but fast and hovered over him. Her smile widened and she revealed bloody teeth. Each drop of blood gave rise to an eye as it dropped onto the floor. Each eye stood flattened in its place lodged in between the surface and depth of the floor. Their stares were painful and quixotic.

He rolled over off the carpet and smashed each eye with his body. As each eye was destroyed, his pain became pleasure. He gained speed and moved toward her legs and feet. She kicked him hard as he came near and on the third kick he flew into the fire and popped into a bundle of pulsating veins of all different hues.

She, full of glee grabbed the bundle of veins out of the fire with her round golden arms and threw it onto the couch. There she sat back in her chair and it began to rock again…fiercely. Her gaze stayed fixated upon the bundle and slowly it reorganized and formed It.

It was volatile. It got up and lunged toward her and punched its fist into her forehead. Blood splattered everywhere and flesh flew. It grabbed her arms and tore them off with ease and threw them across the room, where they soon disappeared and reappeared in black and white. It grabbed her buttocks and peeled them apart until they split open completely and exposed the purity of her tail bone. It ripped the skin off of her fingers and stuffed it into her nostrils. It popped her eyeballs out and dug for syntax.

It stood in front of the fireplace, held its face and screamed.

Her torso began to slime and leak into the cracks of the floor. The fire turned green and its essence joined forces with It.

It was all over.

It was always there.

It will stay forever.

It was her.

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