Womb World: A Bedtime Fable For Adults. {fiction}
{source}
The overall feeling of being suspended had increased since morning, and the girl was certain that she was hanging upside down.
The question now was whether or not the whole world was upside down, or only she, and if anyone else could tell. That night, she had begun to get the feeling that everything looked wrong, reversed. The walls were slipping in around her.
Everything went round and round, and then she was back again, and this time she was sure that she was on the ceiling. Of course, she had always been on the ceiling. But now she began to recognize it. Now she could see. She knew the wrongness.
It was like seeing a word for the first time. Like the word delicate or sponge — and realizing that it is wrong.
Somehow, some-when, the world had been reversed, and here she was, alone with the recognition that she, and the rest of civilization, was fastened to the ceiling. If only they could recognize this, together, as a whole, as a human collective, every man, woman, child, forming a thing with fins and tail and gills inside its Womb World.
If they could all wake up at once, they could be free.
She stepped out of the door, careful not to upset anything lest it go tumbling off the ground-sky and fall into the blue sea below.
Once outside, she had to laugh. Everyone looked so silly, rushing around upside down like that. No wonder everyone’s face was so red. No wonder everyone dies so soon, with all that blood soaking up in their brains. She wandered among them, laughing and pointing, until:
“Stop!” It was the Birdy-Woman with the long, long skirts and the severe, severe hair. Her head was so red. She was going to die soon of bloody brain jelly.
“Why?”
“Because… it isn’t right. It isn’t ladylike to point and laugh. We know our place if we want to survive.”
“But,” she said, “I don’t want to survive.”
And the Birdy-Woman shook her head and sighed. There was nothing the girl could say to her, because how to you explain to a person that she’s spent her whole life upside down?
And so she wandered and laughed and skipped, and occasionally kicked something the wrong way. Then, the hapless rock or twig or stick or bone would go tumbling into the blue below and fall away. She walked on until:
“Stop!” It was the Businessman, very important in Black, Imported Suit, and holding Italian Briefcase, and Digital Mechanisms he stroked and fondled as he walked. His face was even redder than the Birdy-Woman. Soon, his jelly brain would come seeping out of his eyes and fall over his face.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because it’s not efficient.”
And then: “Stop!” It was the Young Man. His face was red, red, red, even though he was youngest of them all. “Don’t be such a freak!”
And she couldn’t tell them why, because they couldn’t see it. Not everyone can see well after they’ve spent a lifetime upside down. And they wouldn’t believe it. So, she knew what she had to do. She smiled and waved with one finger and looked off into the blue.
It was so lonely; the sticks and stones and twigs and leaves and bones that were lost there never came back. But, it was also bright. And it was blue. And it was warm. And the light from below shone through the capped waves people call clouds. And she supposed that it wasn’t so bad. She took off all her clothes; they were tying her down.
And she stepped off the ceiling of the ground and fell. Down and down into the sky-sea, and it was warm and clean and smelled of sugared rose petals.
The Birdy-Woman, Mr. Businessman and the Young Man stared. The Birdy-Woman looked away and covered her eyes. The Businessman grabbed his heart, crumpled up and died. The Young Man ran away. But, from across the street, an old lady saw her, and she pulled off her clothes and fell down after.
And in the space there were hundreds of them, clean and naked and spiraling. And so the girl wasn’t alone after all.
***
Chloe Donaldson teaches English at a community college, and works as a high school speech instructor and newspaper writer. She has previously rented snowmobiles, lived in tents and on islands, and worked in a castle, in libraries, and at a haunted house. When not writing and teaching, she spends time painting, hiking, and wandering in the woods. She enjoys cups of tea, picking berries, classic glam rock albums, making new friends, and reading good books.
***
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