Carrie


Carrie

59

By sarahtrudeau


Meet Carrie. Carrie has gone to sleep and woken up in a strange, metaphorical land. Let’s see what happens.

Right now, Carrie is standing on top of a huge, transparent sphere. Can you see it? It looks like a gigantic crystal ball, the Little Prince’s lair blown up to absurd proportions. Every square inch of the sphere is covered with tall pint glasses. However, it’s not really accurate to call them pint glasses. They share the same shape as a pint glass, but they are far, far taller. Yes, it would be more accurate to call these strange containers Human Glasses. They are the perfect size for a human to dive into, and perhaps paddle around for a bit. Or, just as pleasant, to sink to the bottom of and watch the phenomena float by. The glasses are filled with liquid of every color. Crimson, teal, fuzzy peach, yellow, saffron, brownish beech. This sphere is a mirage of reflecting light, pools of color in every imaginable shade of the rainbow.

Carrie looks around. She chooses one of the glasses. The liquid inside is blue, a deep shade of sapphire. Suddenly, her throat is parched, and she has a desperate urge to drink deeply of the water. As she throws herself over the side of the glass, sees that the glass it labeled “Bruno Giovanni.” Uh oh. Her old lover. Underwater, Carrie’s hair floats about her. She breathes bubbles and moves her hands in front of her face. She is suffused with deep blue fluid, though strangely, she can breathe perfectly. Her sides rise and fall as this liquid form of Mr. Giovanni infuses her every cell. As the chemical reaction takes place, some physical changes become evident in Carrie’s body. Her nipples get hard and her thighs start to tingle. In her mind’s eye, images of Bruno on stage, rocking out on his bass guitar, begin to float by. In this hallucination, he locks eyes with Carrie, and she feels her entire body melt. Bruno always had this effect on her. In the sapphire water, her chest is flushing pink, and color is rising in her cheeks. As her breathing grows faster, her eyelids begin to flutter. Bruno steps off stage. He walks towards her. His hair is black, tied in a knot. He sees no one but her, and she feels her heart beating faster as he approaches. Just as she is about to gasp aloud in anticipation and desire, she awakes from the reverie. She opens her eyes and takes a deep, underwater breath. Then she kicks her way to the top and climbs out, hair dripping wet. Bruno is left behind. A sudden shower-head appears, and douses her in clear, clean water. She is ready for the next experiment.

She chooses a glass labeled “Sattyana Rose.” Her sister’s baby. The water is soft pink, swirled with shades of sunshine yellow and shimmering white. Baby colors. As she climbs in, the musky scent of newborn skin and baby powder rises from the surface. The water is soothing and warm, and there is something like a primal heartbeat in it. The sound and feeling thuds gently in her ears, and she is hypnotized by its simplicity. Everything goes away- thoughts, memories, plans. She becomes a cocoon of pure white light, awareness in its simplest form. Joy rises in her, and she allows herself to be bathed in this honey balm, this innocent nectar. An image of the baby Sattyana rises in her mind, and it is followed by a feeling of fierce protectiveness in Carrie. This sensation paralyzes her body, shortens her breath. But as quickly as it arises, it passes away, and she is filled with a sensation of pure, melting love. She merges with the primal heartbeat once again, and falls asleep under the soft, warm waters, her head lolling to the side.

When she wakes, she lying in the fetal position outside of the glass. A puddle of warm water surrounds her, and there is shimmering white powder in her hair. She sighs and sits up, easy breath filling her lungs. After some time, she sees another glass, its waters sparkling green. She feels an instant affinity with those emerald waters, and decides to climb in. Before she pulls herself over the lip of the glass, she looks to see how it is labeled: “Maria Sanchez.” Her best friend. She does a playful forward roll into the water, and stands on her hands at the bottom, kicking her feet in slow motion. The water seems to pulse and throb around her, a miniature wave pool, and she giggles, her whole body light and free. Then she allows herself to sink to the ground, coming to rest in the lotus posture, an underwater Zen master. Images float through her mind- Maria twirling her hips and singing to Latin music, she and Maria stealing flowers from the neighbor’s gardens to make homemade bouquets, Maria laughing so hard that she regularly pees her pants. Carrie laughs underwater and bubbles rise up around her. Her cells seemed to be comprised of happiness, and she finds that she is inadvertently floating to the surface. When her head bobs up and out of the water, she opens her eyes and smiles. “Bye, Maria!” she says, blowing air kisses at the water, and then she heaves herself over the side, emerald water streaming down her body.

An odd glass is set somewhat apart from the others. Carrie looks at it a little suspiciously, a subtle coiling sensation tightening her body. She approaches the glass carefully, a cat lured by curiosity. Looking around its side, she sees that it is labeled “Markesh.” Eww. Markesh is the strange little man who comes to her coffee shop for lattes. He is 5’4, and reminds Carrie of a mischievous, underground elf. He is always there when she least expects him, peering around the corner of the espresso machine with a weird, gleaming smile, or popping out of a nearby shop doorway just as she arrives at her bus stop. She doesn’t want to climb into his glass, but an inexplicable force compels her to do so anyway. This water is a strange, murky yellow, and its temperature is lukewarm, with strains of cooler water running through it. She wraps her arms around her body to protect herself from its creepy swirling-ness. No luck. Her muscles tense up, and her neck gets tight. She finds she is gritting her teeth. An unnatural mask freezes her face into a grim expression, and her heart seems to slow and contract. Carrie curls into a tighter ball, and squeezes her eyes closed. Anger is rising in her throat. Just as she is about to shout at Markesh to climb back into his demon hobbit hole, she is ejected from the water, and lands, spread-eagled, on the floor. She pushes herself up to her hands and knees, hair dripping, and suddenly a shower of water pours down on her. She is clean again, and ready for the next glass.

A bright red glass of water attracts her attention next. It is like blood, but friendly. Strange. Carrie makes a semi-circle around the glass and reads the label: “David Mitchell.” Hmmm. Her old boss. Something compels her to climb in, so she does. As she sinks below the surface, a strange swirl of feelings rises in her body. An unwanted arousal manifests between her legs, and at the same time, her chest clenches in uneasiness. David was a nice guy, with a curly ponytail and an infectious smile, but he was her boss, and he always instilled a certain sense of fearful respect in her. The water here is warm, almost hot, and she goes into a trance under its spell. In her mind, old dreams rise to the surface, dreams that always made her uncomfortable upon waking- David hoisting her up for a piggyback ride, a huge phallus growing out of his lower back. David pressing her down and kissing her, his wife watching from the doorway. David saving her from a fire, carrying her to safety and then rocking her to sleep, baby booties on her feet. Carrie never knew how to act around him after these dreams- sex object or little girl? Sex object or little girl? Her body is electrified underwater, but a cold thread is moving through her heart. She shakes her head and opens her eyes, but everything is obscured by red. She exhales, bubbles rising up around her, and swims to the surface, pulling herself out. She is hot and lethargic when she hits the ground.

All around her, different colored glasses stretch out, out and away. Carrie stands alone on this strange, colored globe, billions of different waters for her to explore. Each is new, each invokes a unique, chemical reaction within her. In one, she is an attentive angel, in another, she is a corporate whore. The sapphire water makes her melt, the yellow water makes her scream. She is a science experiment in motion, dipping herself into different energy fields, watching the strange reactions. Who is Carrie?


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Comments 2 comments

Peter Dickinson profile image

Peter Dickinson 7 years ago from South East Asia

Sarah - I always save my reads of your writings for my quiet moments. I never regret. They puzzle but always refresh.


danny middleton 7 years ago

Wow.

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