Essay heading: When the birds hit the windows.

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Issue:

Creative Writing

 

Written by:

M C Poirier

 

Date added:

June 30, 2009

 

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No of pages / words:

7 / 1884

 

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I got used to this 'little lens' a few inches from my eye. I got used to the morphing visual effects it created. I integrated it into my paintings, my walks in the woods, my life. Soon, other things were added: I could hear a high-pitched whining sound and my ears would often 'click' or pop; I felt tired, so much so that when I lay down, I'd drop into a deep unconsciousness that didn't hear even the big farm tractors driving in the hay wagons not twenty feet from the house...
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Then I'd often feel painful, needle-sharp jabs into my fingers, especially when I was sitting on the couch, in the same space for some time. Occasionally, my legs and feet got jabbed too, and an odd sensation of "pulsing" on the surface of the skin would start on my stomach, my shoulders, my neck, my head, and any points of contact with whatever my body was touching...
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