Tag: rabbit hole day

I have clipped my nails and taped my hands to prevent touching the wounds I have picked open along my arms. Their eyes watch me as I struggle to type, as I try not to look too closely at their adorable little faces. It’s a trap, a trick. Anthropomorphous reactions are a symptom of the RHD infection, I know it. But the cilia of their fur is soft, so soft. The ears came first, and then the noses, and now, heavens, there is the illusion of paws. Sweet, dear tiny paws with sweet, dear tiny claws that prick around the edges of the scratches like pins and needles. The fungal spores extrude farther from my skin every hour like curious, exploring rabbits, tentative yet stubborn. I can feel them growing, moving. I tried ice to numb the feeling, but that only made it worse. The fungal tips make a screeching sound when the cold forces them to contract, it’s horrifying, and the pain was more intense than the pleasure of the brief respite was worth. My roommate may have already succumbed. He doesn’t answer his door when I call and there is a heavy weight leaning against the far side which is too much for me to shove aside in my weakened, near desperate state. I have already eaten all of the pills I got from the clinic. Maybe I should fetch more, but I fear it may be too late.

The doctor at the walk-in clinic has confirmed that it’s RHD and not allergies, a flu, or delusional parasitosis. My eyes are already shinier. My nose has begun twitching. I was instructed to keep away from public places, so I walked home instead of taking the bus. The lapidae fungus fluffs transfer easier if I scratch at them, but I can’t not. The tips of the fine “ears” have started sprouting from my pores and they itch!!

Guess I’m not going in to work tonight.

I seem to have the first symptoms of RHD. Up and down my inner arms; itching. A rough cough from deep in my lungs, like there’s a hair in my throat. I feel cold, but I dare not wear anything with sleeves. I need to know, I need to see if it starts. Maybe this is just a flu? A flu where I itch, itch and scratch like a nervous animal.

After the cure, the obliteration. The body I’ve already exposed, the oblique columns of muscle and bone, to the odd flirtation with technology. Centuries, even decades ago, they dreamed of this. Now I’m just testing the feeling, drowning in colour as the night doctor operates. Steady hands, penicillin buzz, the names of the dead erupting from my mouth like a safety switch, the effects of sensory dilation as the silver cage of the time bomb was manipulated and armed under my skin.

From now on, I will bruise easily.

Where am I now? Recovering. The foreign molecules now stranded in my body have been part of a different universe and the penetrating fatigue of interstellar travel is taking its toll. My eyes have gone dark, languid and unstirred, but I can feel recovery creeping up. It is coming closer, like a long earred animal in the dark.

Oh gosh, I almost forgot! We have less than one week until the next Rabbit Hole Day!

Started in 2005 by the remarkably clever Dan Curtis Johnson to mark Lewis Carrol’s birthday, the surreal and fantastical Rabbit Hole Day is celebrated by turning everything upside-down and inside-out until nobody is their normal self anymore. Better start planning your weirdness now!

Friday! Friday! Friday!

Previously: 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011.