Meh - More Compliments
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I am about to eat chicken... YUM! Thank you, Slash. I'd forgotten how good he can cook when he wants to.

Speaking of 'when he wants to'... read this. Snow, you've just been outdone, which believe me, takes effort and something... impressive.

--- Quicksand ---

So, he knows how quicksand is formed. That's easy. Any good encyclopedia can tell you that.

Has he been there? Does he know how it feels to be in it? To be trapped in it? To DIE in it?…

You've just stepped in…already you're up past your ankles…

You know you're in trouble. Your first instinct is to step back to solid ground, but every next step you take just gives beneath your feet.

…you're up to your knees now…

This is where the panic sets in. The subtle waves from your steps tell you where the pool ends, just a few feet away. You think, maybe, you can wade back to the edge, back to where it's safe…

…up to your waist…

…but that doesn't work either, so you stop. Your brain starts spinning, trying to think of a way out of this, but there is none.

…your chest…

Here's where the feelings kick in. The feelings of hopelessness, of helplessness, of frustration. Of being alone. You do nothing, and you're gone. You try to fight back, to struggle against the inevitable, and you're gone even faster. All you can do is wait. And you're going to die VERY soon…

Or so you think…

…your neck…

…The realization of this fact sets in. You can still see the edge of the pool, just a few feet away. Just barely out of reach. May as well be a hundred miles away, wouldn't make any difference. As the quicksand begins to creep up over your face, the fear that oddly has been absent from your mind begins to take over, erasing all else. You suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to struggle for what is left of your life….

…your eyes…

…Even though you know better, now you cannot help it. Your body is now going off on it's own, struggling futilely for life…

…your mouth…

…struggling, fighting against arms it can't even feel, a force that doesn't seem to even be there…

…your nose…

…pulling you down…

…your…

…You're gone. Even if someone were to happen by, they would never even know you had been there. There's no trace of you. Even if they knew where you were, they'd only get themselves trapped trying to get at you. You're all alone. And only now do you realize, even as the fear has taken total control of your body, that the wait has only begun…

You see, it's not the quicksand itself that kills you, it's the suffocation, the lack of oxygen. Do you know how long it takes for a human body to die, for the spark that creates and sustains life to be extinguished? Movies and TV would say that a bullet, or a well-placed blade is enough to snuff it out, quickly! Real life takes much, much longer…

…Warmth…surprising warmth…almost like being in the womb. Only this time, instead of giving you life…

…Darkness, and silence. Not even the sound of your own heartbeat to comfort you.

No choking, as one might expect. The quicksand is too thick to make it into your nose, down into your lungs, so it won't drown you. All it does is block off the air passages, suffocating you. As the air left in your lungs is used up, your body starts to spasm from the lack of oxygen. All muscle control is lost. Once the last of it is gone, your body finally starts to calm, as it's functions begin to shut down, one by one, over what feels like a dozen eternities. Your mind begins to spin, as the last of your brain's oxygen is used up, conjuring whatever images it can come up with…your past, the future you're never going to see, your dreams, your nightmares…until finally, at long last…

…just before the end, you think you feel something beneath your foot, something that feels like…salvation…escape…a way out…or just a last second joke at your expense…solid ground! It's just the bottom of the pool, though…and besides, you're dead anyway…

…And that's it. That's the quicksand. It doesn't care if it gets another person ever again. It doesn't really care that it's got you. No pleasure, no satisfaction. It just is, and that's all. Just the quicksand.

Can he give you that? He can put a name to you, but can he describe what it's really like? Can he tell you how it is to actually die within you? Slowly, ever so slowly because of you, without even a hint or recognition or acknowledgement? Unable to escape the three letters locked inside my head, J-A-X, no matter how hard I may try?

Does he even know? Or can he just dazzle your eyes, dazzle your mind, with his pretty little words?

---

So there it is. Pretty words indeed. Beautiful words. You know... ah, but you don't know, and I am going to stop suggesting you do. Instead, I'm going to eat chicken and go to class. Meh, as the kitten would say.

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