apocathary

The Ducks and the Dam It was a crisp, late-Autumn day and Beaver had been working hard with his fellows to build a new dam and lodge under the guidance of Big Boss Beaver. As he made his way back towards their workplace with his final bundle of mud and sticks, Beaver heard someone calling his name. Following the call, he found Mother Duck and all her ducklings. The hollow where they had made their nest was slowly filling up with water. He enquired politely as to why she had called him. "Beaver, my nest is in danger of flooding because of your dam. Please, could you use some of your mud and sticks to fix it?" Beaver thought of Big Boss Beav

The rash etched itself into Paul's skin with patient accuracy, like a tattoo drawn by an invisible hand. Its expanding edges followed a pattern of sorts—a fractal that repeated upon itself but never diminished—revealing the maelstrom of shifting colours and patterns beneath. Paul stepped out of the shower and towelled off, being careful to avoid the parts of his skin that were still inflamed. He sat on the edge of his bed, spellbound by the gradual transformation of his leg into some sort of cosmic canvas. He wondered what he should do. Go to a doctor? The idea invoked the thought of needles, tests, constant scrutiny. Besides, he d