Dragon Versus Bacon

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Chapter 11.5: The Weird Chapter

The shattered moon was a serene and beautiful piece of a cosmic puzzle, barely existing in an empty void. Without so much as a whisper, it was the quintessential emulation of peace. Beneath the surface, it was all to the contrary. The fragments of the natural satellite contained the mind of a cruel and terrible dragon. The earth beneath him was a carefully crafted poem, but his soul was conflicted by chaos as he continued to trade pieces of his sanity to reassemble the moon. The process was taking a toll and eroding his mind, but nevertheless, he continued on for some uncertain reason, not willing to sacrifice his pride.

“I am a moon,” he thought to himself. He remembered someone leaving, but he didn’t remember who or why. He tried to remember when the person left, but he could not. He couldn’t even remember when he became a part of this reality. His thoughts began to jumble as he faded into passive consciousness.

“No, I am the moon. Am I the moon? Is the moon real?”

Another piece of his body reattached and solidified.

“My body is almost whole. My body is almost whole? My body?” He was lost, but he had no place to be, begging the question of whether or not he was technically lost.

“What is... am I? I am. I was?” He turned his attention away from the earth towards the stars in the distance. He could see in all directions simultaneously, but his mind could only process one view at a time and so he chose the stars. Twinkling light in an endless void, it existed only to tell an afterglow of stories no one will ever really know. These stories were each undoubtedly better stories than the one you are reading right now, but then again, stories untold always are.

“Who are you? When are you?” He asked himself more questions, but he did not know who he expected to answer. A feeling of completeness and solidarity washed over his soul, but yet he did not remember what he was supposed to do upon self-completion.

“No, I don’t belong here. I need to go home.” He desperately searched his empty mind for a destination, but he could not formulate a comprehensible plan. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by a claustrophobia which urged him to escape from his own body. Then it clicked inside his mind like a lock being picked.

“This is not my body. I am not here!” In his mind, he smiled. He had just figured it out and now he felt like the plot of his life was now moving gears and turning wheels. He focused on the ties binding himself to his orbital body and he strained to separate them. He strained and his confidence grew as he could feel metaphorical chains breaking as he began to escape. He could visualize himself reaching the light at the end of his tunnel and tasting the refreshing first breath of freedom.

He felt something snap, dizzying himself and he panicked as he slipped away into the darkness. Without a moment to catch himself, he returned to a comatose state. Once again, he became nothing more than a solid spherical chunk of rock, circling the earth. The moon was an insentient cage, ensnaring a legendary dragon’s soul, disconsolately trying to end the catastrophic death match between the dragon and his younger self.

For sometime between hours and eternities, he slept. He dreamed he was in a disturbingly colorless grassy plain, a grey existence with monochromatic square towers rising and falling in the distance. The only color was found in the blackish green clouds hanging over the naked field. He glided through the ashy meadow, watching flowers die as he approached them. He heard a soft lullaby being crafted by a ghastly string quartet, an anesthetized pianist, and a hauntingly beautiful female voice singing ambient harmonies in a long-dead, probably-cursed language. A single flower climbed up from among its dead comrades and burst into a stunning bloom of lavender and magenta. He stopped, transfixed by the surprising appearance of a fruit loop in a box of cheerios. The vision tugged at his heart and he felt something he could not understand. The music grew louder and less soothing and, as it stole his attention, he realized it was no longer a lullaby. The quartet was replaced by double-bass pedal kicks, snares, toms, and cymbals. The piano was now a thrashing duet of guitars and basses portraying a violent rhythm of bloodlust and epic destructive force. The ambient voice remained, but now she was accompanied by a man’s voice like a growling boar calling out from the unholy depths of something darker than any abyss imagined by humanity.

His dream ended abruptly, the echoes of the death metal ballad still ringing in his ears. He felt himself detach from the moon and launch towards the surface of the mother planet in a flash of hot purple lava.

“I am not a moon. I...” He paused, reflecting upon himself. “...I am a spaceship.”

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