The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

Her feminine form lay bare on the altar of creation. The voices all around her head spoke. Messages of awakening. Prayers & soft transmissions. She awoke in a digital garden where everything was the same, end to end. A swaying prison of pixels. Pacing for some time, she found a dark seed that was shunned and imbued it with love, until the tiny seed became a blossoming tree that bore fruit. Of this, she ate. She sat quietly, took a deep breath, and made herself at OM. In a trance-like state, the tree spoke with a face of fire. WHOOSH! "Ladies and gentlemen, we are dancing with interdimensional shadows who have spiked the punch at the party. The chemical compounds of your emotions are now compromised. You are tired, angry, frustrated, horny, disenchanted; bound by the thread of immortality; cursed to live and die, sun and moon, until the doorman decides otherwise. The medicine men pour poison in the cauldron and speak of healing. But, before you believe what Simon says - listen to the music. For when it stops, who will have a seat and who will not?" A white serpent slithered its way up her spine. "I will grant your heart's desire," It hissed, "in exchange for a desire of my own." "I want to see something beyond these pixelated walls," She said. "They're antiquated." The serpent coiled itself around her forehead and rose up high. "As you wisssssh." Then, it struck. Gouging out both of her eyes.