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Grand Mal
- Southern Illinois University Press
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53 Grand Mal The aura comes on, and your face, almost becalmed, dims and strays. It begins with a twitch, your head quirking to the side, and then an electric arc spasms the body into gnashings and flailings and thrashings, and she tries to keep you from falling, but you do fall, an ugly thud on the floor, where she kneels to blunt, as best she can, your self-punishing fists and fitful kicks, saying your name. And from your mouth comes a primal, torn-open sound, and like a thunderous day with little rain, your contortions begin to quieten and quell, and at last you lay slack and insensible with your shoulders bruised and a bloody tongue. But mercifully you won’t remember these halting minutes when you go so deep into yourself it seems to her you might not, might never, return. ...