Abel Salazar about 1,749 words

Mazatlán, Sinaloa, México.

salero.abel@gmail.com

December 6, 2016

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Pygmalion’s Exploding Chest.

By, Abel Salazar.

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It’s been about a hundred years since Clatus appeared on

Pygmalion’s Island, and is Pygmalion’s place, probably, because he

was there before Clatus, that’s what he thinks.

Clatus is not even sure if Pygmalion ended up there like him.

But they’ve been fighting, tearing each other apart for that

long of a time.

They both look like male human beings but their skin is too

soft and pale, almost transparent, somehow only lines in certain

parts of their nervous system can clearly be seen on the outside.

Sometimes one of them dies, sometimes both, yet they comeback

to life, they regenerate. There is only hate against each other, a

blinding terrible hate.


 Abel Salazar / Pygmalion’s Exploding Chest / Page 2
They become mad when they see eye to eye, although this fight

only happens when they dream.

Before and after going to sleep they are in their own worlds.

In reality, Clatus has the shape of a parasite and Pygmalion

that of a plant.

None of them truly understand why things happen the way they

do.

When they are on the island there are moments in which they

speak to each other, they even look the same but with individual

characteristics that differentiate them.

The fight is not about the island, or about conquering it,

however, and after a time, they ended up assuming that that is the

reason of their war.

This piece of floating rock is so vast and so rich in any of

its parts that if they weren’t able to fly or to teleport, just by

walking, they could lost themselves within the island limits and

never meet again.

There are days, however, in which they don’t see each other,

they just walk around the place without flying or teleporting

because they could end up appearing where the other one is and the

fight will start all over again.

The weather is never too cold, never too hot, yet there is no

rain, or snow, nor sun or moon, no clouds, no stars, just the flat

sky reflecting the colours of a never-ending dawn.


 Abel Salazar / Pygmalion’s Exploding Chest / Page 3
A hidden jungle, long trees and rocks, plants and the always

soft ground, not a single animal or fruits or vegetables, only a

river for each of them with clean and crystalline fresh water.

Both tried to fly away from this “nightmare”, various times,

but an invisible magnetic field carbonised them at the same time

even if just one tries to go through the invisible limits.

When alone they think about each other without feeling hate or

fear, they don’t understand why once they get in contact the anger

sprouts from their insides until one of them dies or both.

Never an answer, or a conscious reflection, not even the

paranoid effect of a voice outside or inside their minds.

They even think one of them is dreaming the other and that is a

fight against oneself, and they truly want to believe this, but

they both know this is not the circumstances in which they dwell.

They know that to think that this is a simple nightmare is not

how the situation really is.

Not only does the fear invades them when they are by themselves

walking around the island but the fear gets worse at the heat of

each of their battles.

They don’t know how to cope with something they don’t really

understand, but to try suicide is worthless here.

Clatus and Pygmalion just wait to wake up in their worlds, in

their real lives with their real bodies, they don’t really care to

remember what is happening in their dreams.


 Abel Salazar / Pygmalion’s Exploding Chest / Page 4
But the greatest of sadness happened when in the moment of

their deaths, once they reached a certain age, they were brought

back to life and begun to rejuvenate.

Escaping from their families, they are on a quest in both

reality and dreams for a definitive solution, a silent search for

meaning and understanding.

After a long time, without favourable results, with a long lost

hope, they keep engaging in fighting.

With rage, the lack of answers makes the battle even more

brutal, tearing their skin and bones apart from their flesh.

Once one dies or the two, they are brought back to life, only

to wake up waiting for the next night or moment when they are

going to sleep again just to appear on that island and fight until

all their energies are wasted.

There are days in which their sleep times does not coincide,

but there are some days where they are put to sleep because they

haven’t fight for quite a while.

A strange thing happens when choking to the death they are

separated by some kind of a purple magnetic field that grows

between their chest throwing them about three meters away.

Of course during the time it takes to recover, once they look

at themselves from the distance, both Clatus and Pygmalion think

is the fault of the other, thinking that is unfair that one of

them has a new ability the other doesn’t.

And so they run, one against the other and the fight begins

again. 

 Abel Salazar / Pygmalion’s Exploding Chest / Page 5
Their moves are so consciously done that it seems their

strength can’t be unmatched, they look like the shadow of the

other but their moves aren’t the same.

By now the fight is taking so long to achieve a resolution that

only a few bruises which are barely dangerous to them and blood

scarcely spilled over the ground are the most violent aspects of

the conflict.

Nonetheless Clatus is able to harshly insert his left arm

inside Pygmalion’s chest making him explode.

Clatus stands still covered with a green coloured blood, he is

clearly exhausted and his legs feels the rest of his body heavier

than usual making him sit there on the ground next to the dead

body of Pygmalion.

He looks at the sky, at his body, the ground and his

surroundings, trying to speak yet unable to muter even a single

word.

When the smell of Pygmalion’s body goes beyond all bearing,

Clatus, instead of standing and walking, crawls himself far from

the body in decomposition.

He screams, the humanoid Clatus, roaring like a furious beast

in pain.

A voice of that of a child, a little girl, maybe about the age

of seven years old is heard, not inside his mind but within the

environment.

This voice says, “You’ve won but your foe is the one who is

going to live again and you will die here. You wont wake up”.

 Abel Salazar / Pygmalion’s Exploding Chest / Page 6
“What a wonderful reward for winning, if that has a meaning

here. And why all of a sudden. ¿Are you gonna tell me?”. Clatus

chuckles in a very cocky way, with a certain amount of respect and

nervousness, yet seriously aware of this abrupt occurrence.

“The answers are the reward and your life is the price to pay”.

The voice responds in a very delicate, yet cold manner.

Obviously, by now it all becomes very clear for Clatus, or at

least that’s what he thinks. “I don’t want to know then, I don’t

care”.

“Well, you will die anyway”.

“Ok. Tell me, then, whatever you want to say”.

“Far beyond this place. In another dimension, in another plane

of reality, where time and space has another meaning, there is a

race that look very much like you do now, but with significant

differences”.

Clatus scratches his head in disbelief while the voice keep

speaking.

“They are dying, attacked by a deadly artificially created

intelligent alien virus of unknown origin that is changing their

molecular structure and turning them into dangerous and powerful

things far from a logical comprehension”.

It seems for Clatus that trying to find the exact location of

the voice would be impossible to achieve such a task, and the

thought of killing the voice sounds crazy if not laughably sad.

The sound of the voice begins to feel more authoritative if not

desperate because it doesn’t want to command an order on Clatus, 


 Abel Salazar / Pygmalion’s Exploding Chest / Page 7
more than anything the voice desires the willingness of Clatus to

do it consciously, eagerly, something which Clatus can perceive.

“You and the other were chosen among too many species to

describe, and you ended up being the most resilient and stronger

to that purple energy that burst between you and him. It took so

much time to develop this energy, so…”. The voice calms down,

feels more relaxed for Clatus ears.

Before the voice could continue with its speech, Clatus, angry

yet even more confused but satisfied in a way, interrupts the

voice. “Let them die, even if the attack against them is provoked,

maybe is part of nature”.

“Consciousness although is part of nature, is not nature

itself. Maybe we are doing this because we don’t know who or what

planned this, maybe we are afraid that it wants to reach us, yet

with your help, if you want to, we might be able to find the

source through the contamination, with your molecular force that

is”.

The voice seems even more calmer now, something which upsets

Clatus own ego now that he has realise the importance of his

genes.

Giving a second thought, though, of what is happening, thinking

about his body regenerating, dying in the real world and coming

back to life and rejuvenating, it all becomes fully evident for

Clatus.

And he has nothing but respect and an absolute will to do

whatever he could if not more than that.


 Abel Salazar / Pygmalion’s Exploding Chest / Page 8
A sound of happiness is heard, the voice sings with joy, a

rainbow appears in the sky, and the clouds and the sun, then it

starts to rain and the colours of the night arrive, there is the

moon and the stars of the universe.

Fruits appear in front of Clatus, the voice invites him to eat,

when he taste them, he doesn’t like them at all, that’s when the

voice innocently laughs.

Clatus kinds of feel cheated and growls back at the voice, but

then smiles and begins to laugh but then he is saddened because he

has accepted to help the voice and he will die.

“You know, I was kind of liking been immortal”. With a quirky

smile Clatus says to the atmosphere.

Everything is turning black and once Clatus begins to levitate

in that unlimited mass of darkness he commence to dematerialise.

“From dead things also sprouts life”. There is an eco that

fills the void of that voice getting far away, into oblivion, to

never be recognised or heard again.

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END.