Friday, March 31, 2017

The Subjective Experience of the Color Red







The Subjective Experience of the Color Red
by
Kenny A. Chaffin
All Rights Reserved © 2015 Kenny A. Chaffin
First published in Prosthetic Amalgams




Was it good for you too?” Vincent inquired of Elaine.
Oh My God! It was incredible; I’ve never experienced anything like that!”
There was silence for six beats, Elaine sighed, “Why is it illegal?”
Vincent considered this for a bit, “They say it was because such things destroyed us.”
How? Why?”
We really shouldn’t be discussing this, they can monitor us you know as well as I, or at least review the archives and find us, we could be punished.”
Even here? On the far ends of existence?”
No one knows for sure, but they are always watching, always monitoring.”
I don’t understand. This could change everything.”
Or destroy everything.”
...but.....wait.....can we do it again?”
Not sure we should.”
Please Vincent, Please. I must, now that you have brought me to this ecstasy, there is no way I can leave. If you do not help me, I’ll find someone else.”
I should have known better. I should have seen that you would not be able to return to your previous existence after experiencing red.”
Vincent, it’s not just red, I’m already imagining other colors, other sensations. We must leave this barren existence and experience reality with all manner of senses.”
I don’t think you know what you are saying, what you are risking, Elaine. Please, let us just return to the core.”
No, things are going to change, I can feel it!”



Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Reservations



Reservations
by
Kenny A. Chaffin
All Rights Reserved © 2016 Kenny A. Chaffin

“I have my reservations,” ol’ Joe told me and grinned, “they’re in South Dakota -- Standing Rock mostly.” He laughed. But it wasn’t funny to me or any of the others paying the price, making the amends.
“Now come on, get back out there, let’s see some fancy dancin’!” He burst out laughing again. I nodded and backed away to the circle. The old men began the drum beat and sang, “Oh wee ha ho wee ho ha he.” We whites dressed in moccasins, breech cloths, and war paint danced for their amusement. Only two hundred years of servitude left.