The Tragedy of
Gameing
A Lament in One Act
A sudden hush falls through Neocord's trees. Gameing steps forward, fixed on a massive puffball mushroom. Its mouth twisted, stamped with greed. His eyes shine - bright as metal in sunlight. Stillness grips the air around him.
Out here, where decay spreads slow, something pale takes shape - soft glow against the crumbling earth. Not gold, not gemstone, yet heavier in the hand of want. Watch how the mind stirs at sight of it, greedy in its quiet way, much like traders counting stacks. Inside that tender skin: a worth coins fail to measure. Feeding on damp ground, it feeds me too, pulls me close when hunger wanders blind. Fullness comes knocking after each bite, tight across the stomach, earned without noise. Above all else plated or promised, this mushroom burns clearest in taste, steady as a fixed point seen from drifting sea.
• • •
A sharp blade appears in his hand as he cuts through the mushroom, saliva building fast. The taste already imagined, his tongue slack with waiting.
Out pops the cheeky muscle, that rosy go-between for flavor. Watch it stretch past my lips, grinning, poking fun at empty space with hunger on its mind. Not just waiting - coiled, almost - a creature thrilled to sip soil-kissed drops off this broad, light-colored hulk. The rich smell swirls close, making me unsteady, playing tricks on me right up until the moment it goes in. Beyond all else, the universe could fade - sky folding into itself - and still, only this silk-soft bite meeting my tongue would hold meaning. Held aloft, the piece lines up with empty sky, not as ritual but devotion: delivered toward the distant glow of my Contact Star.
† † †
A sharp crack splits the air. Screaming, Gameing stumbles back. From his open mouth drops his tongue - cut loose by some hidden edge - landing softly on damp moss below.
Oh no. Some harsh fate has brought me low. Torn apart inside, a raw split cutting deep across my chest. The thing that made me happy now just sits broken on the ground, flesh without purpose, cast aside. Ruined - this sorrow runs deeper than any fight between lovers ever could. Broken lies the link that once joined me to the puffball; locked shut its entrance. Staring at it now, I see only a false image, hollow where warmth lived before. Distance spreads like frost across glass, widening into emptiness - like space around a star untouched by sound.
Knees hit the ground first, gaze locked on the mushroom - once flavorful, now nothing - a film of moisture clinging to his eyes without spilling.
Moving without words, the mind reveals what silence hides. Yet gestures speak where speech ends. While thoughts linger beneath motionless faces. Still, meaning emerges through stillness. Because expression needs no sound to be heard
Staring at you again, tears caught behind glass-like eyes. A kid pressed against a shopfront, wanting what they can't reach - my glance makes quiet demands reality refuses. Hope lingers there, thin and cracked, asking some unseen force to undo the mess, to give back sensation lost. Yet trees stand still. Not one sound comes. Voiceless, I wait near food I'll never taste, sending thoughts toward a signal fading into dark space.
• • •
Falling weak into the damp earth, Gameing lies ringed by untouched puffballs - plenty nearby, yet hunger holds firm.
Gameing rests here - killed not by steel, yet undone by divine irony. Possessing gold without access; desire without ability. Quiet will become his grave marker. Pale orbs stand like markers above him. Goodbye to soft fungal growths. Goodbye to soil pleasures. He slips into endless hush, starved and speechless, chasing a feast beyond life where he may at last touch you, distant gleaming Contact Star.
A figure falls lifeless. Everyone leaves the stage.
FINISH
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