(Type of writing found in novel here: http://anewgnosis.com/2019/06/25/71/)
Don’t let the thought catch you. It’ll contort your back, subsume your will, slightly twisting nerves of the spinal column gradually upright over time, -it takes you in sleep, triggering an unconscious cause to turn the head opposite the direction it’s being forced to accept atop the production. Your mind dithers in soft invisible pieces, yielding to the internal grasp, falling to suddenly too-deep sleep, trying not to embrace as black becomes substance tugging in rivulets clinching the optic nerves, ogling the backs of the eyes, moving them under the eyelids.
Bulletin: Enemy moves in shadow and gusts of air with no source, they’re in the arrange it all for you, narrow all fate down to two options then make you beg for a third choice racket.
Strange air -it wasn’t a green mist, it was sunlight confabulated with emanations from your hand’s screen projecting a template for electromagnetic manipulations; sunlight hits the field projected then formulates a subspace monstrosity that once established grows longer every day, no matter social media presence. And that’s the insidious disregard -biting the tongue to keep smiling lips closed- just the type of emotive trigger they need to thrive.
Each follower’s a victim once they’ve caved to the green gelatinous head with its features mushed together atop a body slithering inward through the torso, the superimposed sub-physicality built out from the confluence of a solar field after it passed through the atmosphere, and was caught in a cross-interference pattern set by continual relay between the nearest towers and any enabled device.
-Handheld technocratic singularities making life to desiccate then dissolve, clouds shuddering at the invisible violence, the brain convinced it can sense it, caught in massive waves of fields built to ground their own creation; it and your mind, for every mind.
The dancing invisible, it through its host, the myriad intoxicants deranging each huddled mass, every sense every smell, you solid but all the air’s what an empty head can swim in, all carrying charge. All sent signal. No one’s on the other end because no one’s interested in receipt. Transmission attempt Zed.
