Friday, February 26, 2016

The Traffic Island of Gustave Moreau

     An island inhabited by monsters; Minotaurs and sphinxes and cyclopes, musical instruments with human heads and hairy rat men wearing red jello mold helmets, an island surrounded not by water but by highways on all sides, with metal and concrete barriers standing guard before the gravel shores. All the beasts are frantic, too terrified of the rushing traffic to try to escape. They subsist on litter tossed from car windows, supplementing their diet with the occasional hitchhiker or victim of a blowout. Their mad master visits occasionally to paint them some new chimera companions, though they beg him not to; their kingdom is already crowded, and the old man's eyesight is failing, his recent creations little more than formless blobs barely able to stand upright on the canvas as the cars and tractor trailers go roaring by.

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