Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

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Ventriloquism

“How do you define an out-of-body experience? I think I’m having one.”

“Most people who who claim to have them don’t speak or move, or aren’t able to speak or move, during the experience. It is when you are outside your own body.”

“I was catatonic until I was four, when suddenly I spoke like there was never anything wrong with me. I think I was never inside my own body, I just learned to puppet it.”

The doctor held his hands behind his back. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

The patient got it right every time.

Amanita Terra Nemo

The rain punched holes in my trenchcoat, and that’s where it got in. The war raged on for weeks, until red sores opened up in the land. We sat like gargoyles, scouting for movement or the flash of a muzzle. The only sound was that of the rain, as our guns were perfectly silent. We found out who had fallen at the end of the day and that was that. The battle was ended not because any side won, but because no man’s land sprouted hellishly red toadstools over the corpses, and we started finding it on our skin too.

Mitosis

The sky stirred. The full moon wobbled, its contours shivering like the air above asphalt on a hot day. But the moon was impossibly colder. It pulled away from itself, like there were really two moons superimposed on one another. They tugged, and the stars around them wavered like airbubbles on the surface of a pond after you had dipped your toes in. The pale circles pulled further away, their overlapping surfaces shrinking smaller and smaller until they completed the process, and the petri dish that is the sky settled down again around two fresh moons, unmarred and pure white.

It’s Like a Party in My Pants

It’s like a party in my pants and, like, all the cool kids will be there, but you’ll mostly be hanging around in the kitchen awkwardly drinking from the same one glass of champagne all evening by the fridge, whilst everybody else will be having fun. It’s not your fault, but still. People will try to talk to you from time to time but you won’t have any of that, your face goes red as if to warn other people to stay the heck away. And they will. What I’m saying is, like, kiss me or something. You fucking dork.

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They Strike Root in You

They strike root in you. They reach for you from dead leaves on lonely trees and a brave few jump, if they think they can make it. You become more sociable, immediately. More reckless. You might feel as though you’ve had an epiphany, or three. You will start eating dirt, as the tendrilous roots nest in your bloodstream. Soon you will eat nothing but dirt, you will become a recluse. You will speak to no-one. You will find specific dirt from specific places and it will replace food for you. You will act like this until you burst with saplings.

Provided I Keep Myself to the Script

“Provided I keep myself to the script, Mr. Kolss, the script I’m holding in my very hands, which you are not allowed to see, you will react exactly according to it.” The woman smiled at me. Before I could settle on a strategy, she continued: “the script has been carefully modelled by our superpsychologists to keep you docile and harmless. You will not, for labouringly selected example, slit my throat with that bottle.” I looked where she indicated– “nor your own, might I add. Now,” she unbuttoned her blouse like I wasn’t even there, “would you like to touch me?”

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They Uploaded her Consciousness to the Machines

They uploaded her consciousness to the machines and treated her there for a few hours. The consciousness felt it as years and years.

Each time an error occurred, they rewound the digital brain a little. Sometimes, they detected mistakes made many months ago, and months of progress had to be deleted.

Finally, they claimed this facsimile cured. There is no way to download consciousnesses, only uploads. It would take around two years realtime to cure her with 87% certainty, as long as they do not deviate from the schedule, as long as they never let her glance at the ending.

The Sun Found its Goal

On the 7th of May 2012, the sun found its goal. Ever since birth the sun had been searching, looking for her all along, and it burned with twenty million furnaces just for a chance to see her. As it did, scrutinising the planet suddenly storming in joy, it stopped exerting its energy, and focused solely on her. So it came to be that from that moment until the next time she was under a roof or under a cloud, no-one else got sun. When it lost her again, it could not express its sorrow, but it continued searching, fiercer.

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The Cloud Thickens and Darkens and Broods

The cloud thickens and darkens and broods and no rain can ever come out of it now, no matter how hard you try. From a distance, you can see the sparks fly, and if you stand under it, all your hair will stand on edge, pointing upwards, it will crawl like insects over your naked body, and jump up like fleas that never come down, but the lightning never comes. The cloud will never emit a sound, much less thunder. Rivers will dry up like tear ducts, and the elegant beasts that swam there once will migrate away or die.

I Am the World’s Tallest Man

I am the world’s tallest man and I want to paint paintings. They will always carry the epithet ‘by the world’s tallest man’ but I want to try. Maybe it will be easier for me to get acknowledged for this, like other celebrities and their goofy hobbies. However, I’m going to be dead serious about my art. My paintings will come from within my soul. I will try to capture the spirit of the human conditions and its consequences in simple images and I hope you will like them, and that maybe one day you will forget who made them.

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