“However she lay or covered her eyes, the hallucinatory images assailed her. A landscape all crimson, its substance nothing like dirt or grass or anything exactly, unfolded and undulated around her. It made her think of being glued to a cat’s tongue—stuck on something spongy, wet, and budded. Things—huge things—roamed about on the rolling surface. Masses of some almost indescribable flesh. She lacked a vocabulary to cope. Her senses were engaged in creating shapes for things that had no shapes.... Her mind, her chaotic human mind, had to assemble something concrete or else go mad entirely as the gelid masses came lumbering past. Whatever they were, they seemed not to notice her. When they passed close, she smelled something familiar—the reek of old boots that had been worn until tanned by the body’s natural oils and the cracking leather began to exude a fulsome vinegar pong. She’d had clients who smelled like that. She wondered where the squishy beasts had picked up the stench—or maybe they hadn’t, and she was putting form to smell as well as vision.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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