Sewert's Epiphany

Gasping, stumbling, groping and fumbling,

the gloom belches, and Sewert reaches the

present once again. Dim-eyed, dazzled, he

combs around. Same old drip. Same musk.

Same third- person perspective and ambient

shame. Same barcode of light passing in

through the grate. Yes indeed, you are home.

He mulls it over, totters on the verge of

extinction. The air here has hair, and there

are lice squirming through it. Thus, he speaks

pithy maxims softly to himself. Quotes

from old novels. The good kind of poetry. Till

he hears a soft breathing at the sewer grate,

and stops short - "Who's there?!" A cackling

replies: "Bury the pageantry, sewer rat!

God bought your soul at the self-checkout,

and there's a strict no-refunds policy.

He's stuck with you. Have you read The

Odicy? You're its hero, my boy. Might as

well belt. Caterwaul. Scream. Honesty's

the only thing we rodents have rights to!"

The prophet's words verminate and gloom.

Soon Sewert swallows. And before he knows,

a thorny flower sprouts from his uvula.

It's rather ugly, but it is his after all. And it

grows in the dark and casts shadows made

of sunlight over Sewert's darkened visage.