[Other] Dust.

As it is mentioned in my description, i'm a man of many arts, writing included. That being said, i've decided to translate one of my works, as originally i'm writing in Polish.

Enjoy!

-=-

-Dad? What's wrong?
George knelt before the sink, his head dropped limply into its concavity, dirty with vomit.
-Ouch! What are you doing?!
His miserable voice echoed in the outlet, vibrating like in a nightmarish megaphone.
-Wh-what? This is definitely a misunderstanding...
A moth danced around the flickering candle. Tiny dust ran from it's wings. The young man began to cry.
-No, NO!
He's strained all of his muscles and started to run inertly. He was hit by a door, his body was twisted by an impact, but didn't fall, he continued to run after short moments of stabilization. The hallway was braided strangely, it seemed it was never going to end. His escape didn't progress at all. What was he escaping from?
He looked behind him. The wave of heat has hit him from everywhere, he felt an itching pain on his skin. He looked at his hands - they were sweating salt. The blasphemous dust fell of his body, which began to lose weight like a dried raisin. He was drowning in the ocean of salt, becoming one with pain and white darkness.
Suddenly, evething began to pulse with colors, he floated in an unnamed, incomprehensible direction. The distinction between the body and the consciousness ceased to make sense.
"Why was i escaping? What chased me?
Why do i even care?
A human is a being of questions, the world is full of answers, which are scattered in chaos. The most terrifying solutions are those, about which a man is unable to ask correctly. Where the ordered and named ends, the fear begins. Or the solace."

Train's piston rubbed it's casing tenaciously, steam was blowing from the chimney. What a derailment. What a beatiful disaster.

"Seeking security in isolation is so naive. Lone, we're still vulnerable. Even worse, we expose ourself to the intelectual incest. Along the unanimity only the monstrous bastards are created, worsening as the time flows."
The colors faded suddenly, revealing an unending white horizon and a dead black sky. He's seen something red on the edge of horizon, expanding slowly. After a while he realized about the real scale and speed of the observed phenomenon. Red roots creeped through the soil with an astonishing velocity. No, not roots. Veins.
Something relentless grasped his feet. He began to float up. He looked down. His dried flesh was rotting incredibly fast, starting to fall off like mud. He was already high above his cranium, observing, as his ribs separate from each other and expand. Spare bones fell off slowly, only the spine and the ribs remained. He stopped to perceive this spectacle from above, from now he was seeing it from everywhere, maybe even nowhere. His remains have grown to the size of a mature tree. The ribs became spines themselves, each developing it's  own ribs. From then, the outgrowth exploded with fractality, it's complexity multiplied rapidly with every moment. Yet, Gregory still understood, fully understood, what was he looking upon. The figure, like a macabre snowflake, formed a soothing pattern. Finally, he's found his inner beauty. The monument of lust and fear.
He wasn't even surprised with the transcendence he was experiencing.
The central spine was growing upwards, every new branching narrower than the last. Like a fern.
Suddenly, a bud has grown on the top of the structure. Clawed ribs, curled up into a ball, exposed slowly it's secret. The flower blossomed fully, revealing it's red dust. No, not dust. Blood. Surprisingly, the container made of ribs didn't let a single drop to escape. Even more, it filled itself up a little. Suddenly, the bood became a lump. Animate lump. Three pounds heavy, malformed, crawling, screeching and screaming. The nightmare of life came again. The higher the flight, the harder the fall.

Gregory and Agness were eating a breakfast. No one was dearer to him than his little sister. The honey expanded slowly on the surface of the bread. The boy was amazed, because the sweet fluid was only dust not so long ago. Frail, powdery, meaningless. Life-giving. And oh, so sweet when desecrated.

The Easter was nearing. The spiritual mentor spoke to the youth, majority of which queued to confess.
-Do not have sexual relations with your son’s daughter or your daughter’s daughter; that would dishonor you. Do not have sexual relations with the daughter of your father’s wife, born to your father; she is your sister. Do not have sexual relations with your father’s sister; she is your father’s close relative. Do not have sexual relations with your mother’s sister, because she is your mother’s close relative. Do not dishonor your father’s brother by approaching his wife to have sexual relations; she is your aunt. Do not have sexual relations with your daughter-in-law. She is your son’s wife; do not have relations with her. Do not have sexual relations with your brother’s wife; that would dishonor your brother. Do not have sexual relations with both a woman and her daughter.Do not have sexual relations with either her son’s daughter or her daughter’s daughter; they are her close relatives. That is wickedness. Do not take your wife’s sister as a rival wife and have sexual relations with her while your wife is living. Do not approach a woman to have sexual relations during the uncleanness of her monthly period. Do not have sexual relations with your neighbor’s wife and defile yourself with her.
After the long wait, his turn has come. He's fixed his hair, smiled, and then walked to the confessional firmly, but not boldly. He knelt. Inhaled the air, slowly and deeply.
-George, you son of a bitch!
He's hit the wooden grille with full force, causing it to shatter and knocking back the confessor. The tumult gathered everyone's attention, the preacher has gone silent. 
-I've heard what you did to Agness!
Confusion grew among the people, which were present, like soot is present in the abandoned fruits of civilization. A dust of faith, bringing life to the temple.
-Misunderstanding?! Come here, fuckboy, i'll fucking kill you! Do you hear?!!
With an inhumane push, Gregory jumped away from the confessional, landing with his back on the shocked people lined in the queue. They began to quickly move away, which made him laugh in a maniacal, unstoppable way. He reached inside his leather jacket with his right hand, standed up and pulled out a transparent bag. A bag full of life-giving dust.
-Oh lord, i'm not worthy to receive you! This is my body!!
Not stopping his laughter, he's opened the bag and began to pour it's content all over his face. He didn't care where will it land.
"Life. Death. Is there a difference?"
-I know! I've seen it! Fools! The true Heavens are written in the language of the stones!

The boat was shattered, it's load was damaged beyond any use. The rivers flow leads to the waterfall with a cruel certainty.

-=-

Here, I hope you enjoyed it.

See you next time!