Suddenly he swiveled his head and his eyes met mine. Surely some part of him did suffer; his body must have for the corruption of the vines, I’m sure of it. But I felt in that moment that serenity in all of its airs looked down on me. From behind his gaze I saw the peace of Gautama Buddha and unity of Guru Nanak; the reverence of Mohammad beheld Gabriel, the awe of Rama the living Vishnu, and an enchantment greater than the allure of all the holy things and every one of the shrouded sacrosanct places on the earth. High upon the thing, his arms divided to the roundness of the world, he looked nothing more than as did Christ upon the pile at Golgotha.
For a moment his eyes opened very wide. His entire body heaved spasmodically against the trunk, writhing uncontrollably and, leaning forward, he vomited heavily. My eyes followed the viscous stream that fell from his mouth down to the soil below. It was nearly transparent but for a light stain the color of decaying blood. When I looked up again, he was staring away from me and towards the sun. Even from below I could see that his face was cleaved in two by a great sedated smile. Again his eyes unfocused and fell heavily lidded, the slick of the liquid dripping off his torso fell very near to where I stood on the forest floor, and I retreated.
Novel Sample, Mr. Goodcunt