As I mentioned recently, I’ve got a novel coming out soon. It uses an experimental form where the reader makes a choice at the end of every chapter, and the choices determine the course and style of the novel.
A lot of the novel is written in one or another variation on a traditional realist style. But looking back, I think my favorite parts of the novel are the sections where it departs from realism. I thought I’d post one of the more experimental endings here — without any attempt to provide context. (Know that there was a lot of development leading up to this passage…) This comes at the conclusion of one of the narrative threads:
Dislocated by weariness, you make your way toward the abandoned train station. All the while the cavity grows, expanding to the inside of your throat and stomach, spreading its wet fingers around your lungs. If it goes on like this, soon nothing but a cavity will remain.