Biro's Inspiratos

SNAIL TRAIL

Part One

A glamorous new story by Bonnie Vladivostok

Since his early adolescence, Mr Winterbottom had been liable to the sort of vivid, outlandish dreams which any person of an ordinary disposition would perceive as utterly disturbing. Although these instances of interrupted consciousness were rather infrequent and chiefly manifested themselves at nocturnal hours, on occasion they would make their way into the realm of daylight, an idiosyncrasy which for Mr Winterbottom was a source of utmost inconvenience and embarrassment.

Thus, a seemingly uneventful hot summer afternoon found him reclined on a sofa in the living room of his elaborate mansion, conversing with his maid about the weather. The absence of taste and style that characterised the Winterbottom residence seemed to be compensated for by a fortitude of meandering ornaments, while similarly, what the proud proprietor of the estate lacked in diligence and modesty he made up for with an abundance of adipose tissue and excessive body hair.

"Gloria, do you not find this heat terribly exhausting?" he asked her, his face wearing an expression of unreserved complacency. The maid stared at him with the vacuous disbelief and disgust of someone who has just discovered a large dead insect in the kitchen sink, let off a faintly concealed grunt, and carried on polishing the silver handles of a walnut escritoire. "Those ethnic women can be so awfully rustic", Mr Winterbottom thought to himself whilst idly glancing through the window in an attempt to follow the trail of a bee hovering over an assembly of flowers in the garden.

He was gradually overtaken by an overwhelming feeling of hebetude. Still gazing outside, his eyes focused on the elusive insect, which now seemed to have rested on a magnolia, and it appeared to him that the deep blue of the sky was blending with the pink of the blossom. At this point Mr Winterbottom felt his whole body blurring, dissolving into the piece of furniture he lay on.

The pristine, almost fluorescent white of the hospital walls and bed sheets gave one the impression the entire room was submerged in light. Mr Winterbottom, surrounded by nothing but bare furnishings and silence, lay supine on the hospital bed. His body felt heavy yet tranquil, his muscles remained blissfully unchallenged. On his left, he noticed a narrow plastic tube that led upwards to a container filled with red liquid. This finding gave rise to some temporary confusion, which was overshadowed by the sudden presence of a figure in front of him.

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Part Two Continues In Next Month's Issue