It was summer. A clear, hot afternoon. There were lazy, supine sunbathers, books resting over their eyes, lovers giggling, pushing one another, kissing in tree-shade. The distant squawk of amiably arguing children mixed pleasantly with the chatter of birds and the far-off tinkle of an ice cream van. By my hand a small iridescent bug was toppling and righting itself in the grass.

As I lay there, my eyes passing gently over the blue sky, I saw a single, small, bright red star at the meridian. As I looked more intently it grew larger, formed arms and legs and turned through purple to blue and I saw that it was a prostitute. Suddenly seized with lust I called out to her: 'Come! Let us fuck under the apple boughs, beneath the dingle starry!' and she lay down before me and opened her cunt to me and I heard from within the sound of a thousand voices screaming in terror. She pulled my feet towards her and her sex opened up like an enormous flower and poured out sour milk. The stench of it formed tendrils in the air and these tendrils wrapped around my ankles, pulling me into her. I sank down like falling into a deep, fleshy well, full of sour milk. Suspended in the silent warmth of the fluid there was nothing except for an overwhelming sense of bliss.

And through the white depths I saw a host of headless angels that surrounded me. The openings of their throats were lined with teeth, flat as millstones, and their voices came out as the deafening clanging of bells. Again, I was seized by lust. The angels began to grind my testicles between their teeth, turning them to sand. I writhed ecstatically in the euphoric pain and my nipples poured with blood. Their long fingers slipped into my anus and from it they pulled long, lively worms like jubilant ribbons. The angels had small, vicious looking penises with beaks protruding from the tips and, as some of them mawed on my testicles, others pushed their penises into all the orifices of my face: into my mouth and my eyes and my ears and my nostrils. I felt their penises feeding on the filling of my head and I screamed a glorious scream that emanated gently from all of my body like warmth and made tears made of liquid gold run down my cheeks.

I don't know at what point the angels finished consuming me, but at some point I found myself in another tunnel, this time being made up again out of grains of radiant sand that joined up putting flesh on my bones and the sand surrounded me until I bubbled up from it and found myself on a beach, the radiant sand stretching to the horizon in every direction. I lay there, exhausted, unable to find comfort in the sand, and as I looked at it more closely I saw it was made of millions of tiny, iridescent insects.

From the distance the angels appeared again hovering above waters that carpeted the sands beneath them. They turned the soles of their feet towards me and I saw they were crowded with eyes of varying sizes. And up from the waters there rose a single, colossal hair and the angels flocked to it, rubbing themselves against it in a frenzy. And as they did so the rough surface of the hair grated their skins and their muscles, their blood shining in the light of the sun.

I called out, 'what is this? Where am I?' and the flayed angels began to scream, differently this time: violent, desperate screams that caused the air itself to shrink away and the ocean to flee, exposing the base of the hair erupting from the slimy seabed. Around its base there were a hundred madly-grinning children eating the flesh from their own limbs and masturbating.

Though the sight was terrible I was filled with joy and ran towards them, and as I ran I felt my feet grow heavy and the screaming of the flayed angels made semen pour from our of my mouth. And as I grew closer I looked down at my feet and saw they had turned into bottomless waters, and the children ran to me and as they ran they were lifted up from the ground and became smaller and smaller until they had formed a cloud of locusts. They buried themselves in my ears and yet the angels' screaming grew only louder, and the enormous hair stooped down, turning its tip towards me. And it its tip I saw there was a tiny opening, and through this opening it spoke: a barely audible sound that I heard clear in the centre of my head and its voice was the most beautiful voice I have ever heard and it said to me: KHALU KHALU KHALAI KHULAE.

I called out to it: 'Am I in heaven?' but again it repeated: KHALU KHALU KHALAI KHULAE.

Just then, I fell upwards into the sky, my body consumed suddenly with purple fire and I saw the clouds were full of crucified women, blessing me with agonised shouts that took form and came together in the shape of a great obelisk that moved like a snake through each of the women: into their mouths and out from between their legs, regurgitating their blessings over and over. Again I called: 'Am I in heaven?' but no answer came, only the horror of the blessings, and I began to despair. I felt hatred of the whole world and of myself and I cried until my throat was dry. But still no answer came. And the angels flocked to me, poking holes in my skin with their long fingers, lifting me by my flesh into the sky. I passed through a third tunnel, this one stretching every part of my body as I was forced through its narrow aperture. Breasts grew on my chest and an enormous hollow dug itself deep between my legs and leaked sour milk.

And I was called down to earth by a vision of myself, lying on the grass in the park. He called out to me and said: 'Come! Let us fuck under the apple boughs and beneath the dingle starry' and I let him put his feet deep into my hollow. As he sank into it I felt him become part of me, filling my outline with every part of himself, his fingers stretching to the tips of mine, his penis elongating my clitoris from the inside. I felt an overwhelming sense of love and fulfilment, my nose was full of the heady scent of sandalwood, and as my muscles contracted in a forceful orgasm I felt my male self being crushed and stretched inside me, squeezed like a lover, ground into sand by the headless angels, their millstone teeth bursting him inside me over and over until the sheer joy of torture brought an infinity of silences that left me still and satisfied, as though I had just eaten an excellent meal.

By Robert Hainault