KEEP IN MIND THIS STORY IS DARK, ITS SUPPOSE TO SOUND LIKE A NIGHTMARE. BUT IT IS ALSO A METAPHORICAL REPRESENTATION OF MY PERSONAL DEMONS. IF YOU CANT FIGURE OUT THE STORY THERE WILL BE AN EXPLANATION AT THE END.
The Destructive Architects
The nightfall is summoned by the thundering of large drums. The drums conjure up the start of the conflicts. Signaling the start of the many wars to come within the confines of my sanity. I stare out, watching the sun fall on the horizon with the rise of the drum beat. Till it reaches an erratic peak of ominous tones, then a crash into silence. With the great silence of the drums comes the first Architect. Her long slender legs sprout heels that clack against the ground. Her beauty cannot slip past me. I notice every symmetrical feature, the perfect shine of her hair. The way it falls soft and careless to her shoulders. The perfect curves of her body race my heart beat, pumping the blood faster through my body. She puts on her display, seductively teasing the hope deep inside my being. It works just as she plans; I can feel my heart pushing tighter against my chest. It longs for her, so much so it physically urns to escape my body to be with her. A slender smile sneaks across her lips, exposing her paper white fangs. Never has there been a more beautiful smile. She exposes her hand placing it on my chest. All she needs is her acrylic nails to remover my heart from its cavity with surgeon like finess. Exposing my throbbing heart to the outside world. The bloody organ continues to thump far from its home. Still connected to me by the veins. So that I may still feel.
“can you feel its beat?” I ask. “It used to beat for you!”
“But it was never enough” she screams as her fangs slid delicately into the fleshy organ. More blood spills out as my heart pumps faster and faster. I could feel the pain of her devouring my heart, a pain I felt not in the organ itself but in my being, somewhere deep in my soul. The smile remained as the harpy licked the last of the bloody morsels from her lips.
“Did I quell your fucking hunger?” tears well up in my eyes with the words.
“Not nearly well enough..” With the words she crumbles to ash at my feet.
Her ash gives birth to shadows, shadows that live and breathe but are faded like ghost. Each one plays its role, rehashing familiar scenes before eyes. Tears shred gashes down my face as I watch the moments play out like memories. Each shadows movement is brought to life by strings attached to their limbs. All the strings rise up connected at an apex just below my freshly eaten heart. Still beating and bleeding as it serves as master puppeteer for the shadows, directing their ghostly actions till my soul can bare no more.
Gone, the ghosts fade with the passing seconds, locking themselves in the confines of my mind. Waiting for their next big role! My heart careens back to the ground splattering into red water that pools around my feet. I collect the drops, attempting to return them to my chest cavity with no effective luck. On all fours I drink the red water. The thick liquid snakes its way from my throat back to my chest bringing with its return a short lived relief.
The third Architect appears. A great thinker, a marveled scientist. His eyes filled with wisdom he cannot share, for he has no mouth. With each year a wrinkle on his face, his face is older than time its self. His gloved hands caress my head. he tips it back searching my eyes for the answers. He produces a scalpel ,carving a bloody line the circumference of my forehead. Pealing back the skin that lay atop my head. Reaching inside his hand draws with it the treasure it seeks. He holds a tangled mess of fleshy worms. The tangled mess is shadowed by a dark cloud that produces lighting. The lightning strikes down on the grubby worms making the scatter in fear. The great thinker starts to unravel the worms. Bit by bit he pieces them together into a more logical formation. The worms begin to take shape just as a human brain should look, but before the last worm is placed lighting sends them back into their tangled mess. The thinker jots his notes in a book. Pausing to think, the frustration over whelms him and he casts the book out into the void. The thinker weeps openly into his palms, it is not my place to console him I must leave him here, to go in search of his thoughts. His possible answers!
My feet catch pace, hurriedly chasing after one another. The formless void that surrounds me, takes shape as a sensible environment with each step. I follow a cobble stone path through the void. Coming to rest at an altar. A great golden light binds itself to the book that has been placed on the altar. A man dressed in robes, evidently a high priest removes the book from its altar unlocking the book from its bindings. He pushes his finger into the page, following each word. Silently reading to himself, after some time the priest becomes aware of my presence. He looks up from his book to speak
“You are here for the answers!” he bellows in a deep echoing voice. The voice shakes the confidence in my beliefs and they crack under the pressure.
“I just want to understand!” my vocal cords shriek out the words.
The priest’s eyes blacken like the void that has been surrounding me. His finger takes pause and his dark eyes read the word out loud “Nonbeliever!” he begins to shout his prophetic lies. Some of them find meaning in my soul, burning me in venomous pain. His shouts get louder as I take flight. Running running running, till I no longer hear his lies.
The void takes shape as a forest for me to run though. The urge to run dissipates with the sound of the lies. Water runs around my feet, shin high in a creak. The icy waters cause my feet to lose feeling but soul sees something my eyes cannot. I pluck a clear orb from the water, so clear one must know its place to even harness its powers. The orb forms perfectly into my palm, drawing my eager eyes. The orb pulls my life from my brain, furiously riffling through all the memories, the past moments the current moments and finally into the unknown. But my mind has created every possibility for the unknown, but the orb wants more. It finds it. “worst case scenarios” the words scratch themselves into the orbs surface. Each scenario breaks down my heart. Weighs down my soul, and shatters my being. This fifth architect is no kinder than the previous four. I drop the orb and it disappears into the water. Re assembling itself inside the void.
The void takes shape, but I try to ignore it. The void burns at my eyes attempting to assert its dominance. I tear my eyes from their sockets, the wiry veins chasing after my eyes. I drop them to the floor of the void. The void is an illusion I no longer wish to believe in. But without the illusion nothing exists. My mind can no longer fathom, my heart no longer beats. My blood lays still in my veins. And my soul fades from being.
The sixth and final architect comes into play. The sandman fines my lifeless soul in the void. Dragging it with his cane back to my body, stuffing my soul back inside. Piecing me back together. My eyes light up with the arrival of my soul. The sandman pulls a handful of dust from sack tied round his waist. He lifts his old hand above my head, dropping the dust onto my face. “with sleep comes peace my child” and the sandman ends the tortures of the night.
(The End)
I know that was probably confusing so let me explain the story if you could not figure it out yourself.
The entire story is about my nightly battle with my own mind. When I am alone at night my mind wanders, and it always fines the destructive architects. So let me explain each architect.
Architect 1: Architect 1 is the woman. She is the embodiment of every girl to ever break my heart. She reminds me of all my heart breaks. All the girls that decided for one reason or another that I was not enough for them, but the woman is also the image of the dream girl I have created. The one my soul longs for. The girl I look for every day. The woman is also a reminder of my loneliness.
Architect 2: is the shadow puppets, the shadows are my memories. All the memories I wish I could live again, all the memories of better times gone by. My heart is the puppet master, he directs the memories and replays them in my head over and over. Until the nostalgia of each moment makes me want to cry, a constant reminder of my best days gone by.
Architect 3: is the great thinker. The great thinker is a representation of my own mind. He is a great thinker, but has trouble expressing those thoughts, that’s why he doesn’t have a mouth. The worms he pulls from my head are my brain. But it is dysfunctional, it doesn’t work right it’s a mess. He tries his best to piece it together, but my own bias and negativity (the cloud of lighting) makes it impossible and the thinker only ends up frustrated.
Architect 4: is the priest and his book. The book represents the understanding of life. Something I am seeking. To understand the purpose and meaning of life. The priest though is the only one who can read the book, and he represents all established religions and ways of thoughts. All he does is lie because he says he knows the answers, but he cant. No one can know the answers.
Architect 5: is the orb. The orb is my ability to see to my future. It is the plans of my future and the possible scenarios my brain runs through every night. It always wants to reply the worst case scenarios to my soul is broken and I am depressed.
The Void: the void I keep talking about is reality. I see it as an illusion, because you can’t fully understand reality without getting outside of it. Which is only possible through death. My mind struggles with the concept of reality every night. What it truly is, and how to understand it. But I never reach and answer.
Architect 6: is the sandman. The sandman represents sleep. The only escape from the self-tortures of the other architects. Sleep is the silence of the pain, and eventually sleep saves me from the torture of every night.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
(B)ryan's World
Bryan was a social outcast. His first year of high school had him pegged as a geeked out loser already, and the semester had just begun. For Bryan it wasn’t a matter of looks, or an addiction to outdated childish card games involving monsters. Bryan was just wired differently. His brain operated on an entirely different wave length than his classmates’. Bryan was a Martian. He quickly decided his inability to communicate must be that he was not human. It was assumptions like these that not only made perfect sense to Bryan, but where also I large part of why he was an outcast.
Bryan’s lacking social life lead to large gaps of free time that he needed to fill. School could have easily filled the void for Bryan, but mindless busy work, and mathematics he would never actually use in the practical world where not exactly Bryans forte. Instead Bryan chose to take another, more creative route to consume his down time. Words. Bryan was a man of words. He wrote them, everywhere, forming them into songs, poems and stories. The simple act of scribbling down words cleared his mind, they made everything ok. The world around him would just disappear and he could get lost in the words on the page.
The bell released the hordes of students from their assigned cages, they poured out into the hallways like a flood. Bryan was lost in the flood absent mindedly sifting his way through the people, while his mind was piecing together the elements of his next story. Lost in his own creation Bryan failed to notice the heft forearm shove into the lockers. A physical collision of that nature was a rude snap back to the buzz of the hallways. The owner of the forearm laughed high fiving his closest bumbling idiot. The jock reminded Bryan of gorillas, physically fit specimens that just failed to evolve to their full mental potential. Bryan shoved his books back into his arms, and resumed his journey. Bryan believed in a more non-confrontational approach. Not out of some religious pursuit to be a better person, but out of necessity. Bryan learned very early on that it’s hard to be confrontational when you have toothpicks for arms, and fist magnet of a face.
Bryan weaved his way into his next class room; he sat in the far back. Attempting to disappear amongst the crowds of students. Bryan pulled his notebook from his pack, laying it before him like a dinner plate. Bryan’s hands clutched at pocket lint, desperately searching for his pen that was in the other pocket. Eventually Bryan found his pen, removing it from its cave and bringing it out into the florescent lights of the school. Bryan pressed his Excalibur against the page the ink spewed out slowly onto the bone white paper. He began crafting his world like an artist painting with words. He crafted a verbal city scape that began to take life around him. The small class room gave way to expansive car littered streets. Building rose up out of the desks around Bryan. He could see and feel the city he created, and the classroom melted away. Bryan was a word traveler. He could go anywhere he wanted; all he had to do was create it.
With the city laid about before him Bryan began to populate it with various people most of them where just for ambiance. They were stuck in one position, little detail given to them. They were just to make Bryan’s world feel more real. But some characters were purposely crafted with exact details. Like her. Bryan began to scribble “her” into existence. Her brown hair fell softly out from beneath a hand knitted beanie. It wasn’t cold in Bryan’s city scape, the beanie was and expression of her style. And Bryan really liked beanies on a cute girl. Her smile came next, it gleamed bright white. But more than that it evoked emotion from both her, and those who witness its beauty. You could feel her smile. Bryan crafted her eyes, brown like mud, with gold dust sprinkled in the mix. The shades of brown swirling in her eyes were so complex you could stare for days and still notice new colors and details. Her slender body was a spitting image of cute. Tight jeans with rips up the legs revealing coffee colored skin. Her tight gray shirt hugged her curves, and a colorful Blink-182 logo accentuated her chest. The logo was her badge, she wore it with pride. Bryan made her an Alex, a name he thought suited her to the tee.
Alex was just a mannequin at this point, incapable of human interaction or emotion. But that was what Bryan wanted. He wanted Alex to interact with him, he wanted her to feel real. So he twiddled his wand and it spewed ink on the page culminating into Alex’s personality. She was outgoing spontaneous and very strange. Her upbeat personality made the best of every situation and she had and immense energy and enthusiasm for simply being alive. She loved music, it was her religion. Especially Blink, but most of all Alex CARED about Bryan. More than anyone in Bryan’s life ever had before. When the furious scribbles of Bryan’s pen stopped Alex came to life.
“Bryan let’s get coffee!” there was an excitement in her voice that made Bryans heart skip. She took Bryan by the hand and they raced to the nearest coffee shop. Bryan sipped his coffee, feeling to warm sensation is the coffee rushed to his stomach. He intently listened to Alex ramble about everything from Aliens to her understanding of the concept of love. He fired back his own ideas and opinions of the subjects. Sparking a lively conversation that drew the attention of all the customers present in the coffee shop. They both had an admire one another with a passion that was visible when they locked eyes.
“let’s get out of here!” with her words the coffee shop faded, replaced by a large parking structure. Alex and Bryan sat together straddling the top ledge. One foot flirting with danger while the other anchored them to safety. The Black sky gleamed with thousands of spilt diamonds that where suspended above their heads. Bryan’s heart raced as his mind tried to grasp how perfect the moment felt. For once Bryan couldn’t create with words the happiness that swelled inside him, pushing his heart to its ultimate capacity of love. Alex shyly looked up from the pavement and caught Bryans gaze. “I love you Bryan” the words whispered out into the night air, crashing into Bryans heart with a surge of emotion and excitement he could hardly bare. He landed in slowly to show her his love, but his lips only found the air. Bryans world was gone, he fell through and empty void. A bell was nagging his ears as he fell into his desk. The bell was class dismissal; Bryan was left alone at his desk. He looked down at the pages of his note book and smiled. Alex was gone for now, but when life tried to get Bryan down he knew where he could find her. And that always made him smile.
(The End, for those of you who somehow didn’t catch it, Bryan is me. I know what a clever name change!)
Bryan’s lacking social life lead to large gaps of free time that he needed to fill. School could have easily filled the void for Bryan, but mindless busy work, and mathematics he would never actually use in the practical world where not exactly Bryans forte. Instead Bryan chose to take another, more creative route to consume his down time. Words. Bryan was a man of words. He wrote them, everywhere, forming them into songs, poems and stories. The simple act of scribbling down words cleared his mind, they made everything ok. The world around him would just disappear and he could get lost in the words on the page.
The bell released the hordes of students from their assigned cages, they poured out into the hallways like a flood. Bryan was lost in the flood absent mindedly sifting his way through the people, while his mind was piecing together the elements of his next story. Lost in his own creation Bryan failed to notice the heft forearm shove into the lockers. A physical collision of that nature was a rude snap back to the buzz of the hallways. The owner of the forearm laughed high fiving his closest bumbling idiot. The jock reminded Bryan of gorillas, physically fit specimens that just failed to evolve to their full mental potential. Bryan shoved his books back into his arms, and resumed his journey. Bryan believed in a more non-confrontational approach. Not out of some religious pursuit to be a better person, but out of necessity. Bryan learned very early on that it’s hard to be confrontational when you have toothpicks for arms, and fist magnet of a face.
Bryan weaved his way into his next class room; he sat in the far back. Attempting to disappear amongst the crowds of students. Bryan pulled his notebook from his pack, laying it before him like a dinner plate. Bryan’s hands clutched at pocket lint, desperately searching for his pen that was in the other pocket. Eventually Bryan found his pen, removing it from its cave and bringing it out into the florescent lights of the school. Bryan pressed his Excalibur against the page the ink spewed out slowly onto the bone white paper. He began crafting his world like an artist painting with words. He crafted a verbal city scape that began to take life around him. The small class room gave way to expansive car littered streets. Building rose up out of the desks around Bryan. He could see and feel the city he created, and the classroom melted away. Bryan was a word traveler. He could go anywhere he wanted; all he had to do was create it.
With the city laid about before him Bryan began to populate it with various people most of them where just for ambiance. They were stuck in one position, little detail given to them. They were just to make Bryan’s world feel more real. But some characters were purposely crafted with exact details. Like her. Bryan began to scribble “her” into existence. Her brown hair fell softly out from beneath a hand knitted beanie. It wasn’t cold in Bryan’s city scape, the beanie was and expression of her style. And Bryan really liked beanies on a cute girl. Her smile came next, it gleamed bright white. But more than that it evoked emotion from both her, and those who witness its beauty. You could feel her smile. Bryan crafted her eyes, brown like mud, with gold dust sprinkled in the mix. The shades of brown swirling in her eyes were so complex you could stare for days and still notice new colors and details. Her slender body was a spitting image of cute. Tight jeans with rips up the legs revealing coffee colored skin. Her tight gray shirt hugged her curves, and a colorful Blink-182 logo accentuated her chest. The logo was her badge, she wore it with pride. Bryan made her an Alex, a name he thought suited her to the tee.
Alex was just a mannequin at this point, incapable of human interaction or emotion. But that was what Bryan wanted. He wanted Alex to interact with him, he wanted her to feel real. So he twiddled his wand and it spewed ink on the page culminating into Alex’s personality. She was outgoing spontaneous and very strange. Her upbeat personality made the best of every situation and she had and immense energy and enthusiasm for simply being alive. She loved music, it was her religion. Especially Blink, but most of all Alex CARED about Bryan. More than anyone in Bryan’s life ever had before. When the furious scribbles of Bryan’s pen stopped Alex came to life.
“Bryan let’s get coffee!” there was an excitement in her voice that made Bryans heart skip. She took Bryan by the hand and they raced to the nearest coffee shop. Bryan sipped his coffee, feeling to warm sensation is the coffee rushed to his stomach. He intently listened to Alex ramble about everything from Aliens to her understanding of the concept of love. He fired back his own ideas and opinions of the subjects. Sparking a lively conversation that drew the attention of all the customers present in the coffee shop. They both had an admire one another with a passion that was visible when they locked eyes.
“let’s get out of here!” with her words the coffee shop faded, replaced by a large parking structure. Alex and Bryan sat together straddling the top ledge. One foot flirting with danger while the other anchored them to safety. The Black sky gleamed with thousands of spilt diamonds that where suspended above their heads. Bryan’s heart raced as his mind tried to grasp how perfect the moment felt. For once Bryan couldn’t create with words the happiness that swelled inside him, pushing his heart to its ultimate capacity of love. Alex shyly looked up from the pavement and caught Bryans gaze. “I love you Bryan” the words whispered out into the night air, crashing into Bryans heart with a surge of emotion and excitement he could hardly bare. He landed in slowly to show her his love, but his lips only found the air. Bryans world was gone, he fell through and empty void. A bell was nagging his ears as he fell into his desk. The bell was class dismissal; Bryan was left alone at his desk. He looked down at the pages of his note book and smiled. Alex was gone for now, but when life tried to get Bryan down he knew where he could find her. And that always made him smile.
(The End, for those of you who somehow didn’t catch it, Bryan is me. I know what a clever name change!)
Monday, September 19, 2011
Von Dirlich
Time eased its way along the wrist watch, slow minute, by slow minute, but Von Dirlich was in no hurry, he could wait there motionless for weeks if he had too. Von never missed his target and tonight was to be no different. He gazed curiously at the plumes of smoke as they escaped the end of his cigar, dissipating into the night air as they rose. Von made himself another drink, a fine aged whiskey with a splash of water. Von may have been an uninvited guest, but in a few minutes he was sure he would be no bother to his unknowing host. The familiar jingle of house keys were the signal. The game was on. In the one corner sat Von Dirlich, relaxing in a fine reclining chair. Puffing his borrowed cigar, and sipping on his also borrowed whiskey. And entering the other corner was William Pence who just now became aware of the game he stumbled into. “Who the fuck are you!” William stumbled backward into the wall knocking a lamp and small end table onto the floor, dropping his bags along with them.
“Calm down William, have a seat and relax will ya? You’re always so uptight…” Von trailed off expecting William to do exactly as he said.
“I am not going to sit down, what are you doing in my house!?!” Williams stress was evident in his voice now.
“Ah William, so stubborn, when a man with a gun asks you to sit…” William took note of the slender black barrel pointed at his chest, and finished Von’s sentence for him by sitting down on the seat across from Von.
“Good, doesn’t that feel so much better? We can have a true discussion now!” Von’s voice was calm and confident, polar opposite of his counterpart William.
“w-what are you doing in my house?” William was choking on his fear now.
“William, you need to relax, how can we have a lively conversation when you are sputtering for words?” William was at a loss, he had no way of regaining his composure. Millions of thoughts raced up and down his brain’s nerve fibers, calculating the possibilities, without a single answer.
“Well William, it’s quite evident I am here to kill you.” Williams’s heart beat spiked, he could hear and feel it all through his body. It was surely loud enough for Von to hear.
“You should see your face right now William, pricelessly pathetic! Almost the same face you make when you climax with that two dollar whore you buy every Friday.” Was that what this is about William thought? It was his only clue to this man’s identity so far.
“No William, this isn’t about the whore” Von put as much emphasis on the word whore as he could, then chuckled to himself.
“Your face reads like a book, I can literally watch your mind piece together your thoughts”… “No, I can’t actually read your mind William, don’t be ridiculous! At this rate though I might as well do your half of the conversation for you!” William was in such a panic Vons predictive nature was actually baffling to him. Though it could easily be chalked up to the talents of a person who knew the ways of the human mind, an interrogator or a shrink, but William was so in shock he could not draw on logical conclusions such as those.
“ William William William, it would be nice to hear some words come out of that mouth, your beginning to come off as a tad bit rude.” William stumbled for words, any words, but they were logged somewhere in the bottom of his throat. With no intention of finding their way past his lips.
“A simple exchange of pleasantries would be a good start William” Von began to impatiently tap his fingers on the arm of the chair, but pleasantries seemed so pointless to William, he didn’t care for a name! He was told this man was going to murder him, why would he want his name! Without waiting for William to respond Von did the introduction himself
“My name is Von. But I can see that you don’t care much for pleasantries at this point, so I guess I will just get to the business end of it all. People want you dead William, and when someone needs someone else dead around here, I am the guy. I get the job done you see? Unlike you. See I am very different from you. In almost every way! How ironic to be killed by your polar opposite.” Vons smile never seemed to fade, it was more of a grin. It clung to his face at all times, even as he talked. William finally summoned the courage to talk.
“Why would someone want me dead? I don’t harm anyone!”
“Well William, that’s exactly it. You are not a bother to anyone! You hardly exist in the eyes of most people. Such a waste of life, that’s not just my opinion either. You are so scared to live that you actually suck the life out of living for everyone else!”
“Who!?!?! Who do I suck the life out of?” William sputtered.
“Does it matter? Look at what you said! You didn’t even bother denying the fact that you are a life sucker, you just accepted it. Says a lot don’t you think?” Von raised his glass to his lips tasting the Whiskey, then flattened the glass out at eye level as if to gather some sort of evidence about the whiskey visually that he did not deduce earlier.
“So-so, I have been down on my luck a bit lately.”
“Lately? I am almost offended that you thought I would buy that line of shit! Why don’t you try umm, your whole life maybe?” William racked his mind for a time when he wasn’t an utter failure, and he even failed at that.
“Look, not a single word in retort! You couldn’t come up with on example to prove me wrong?” William sifted through his entire life, his friendless childhood, his girlfriend less high school years. The brief year he attended college before dropping out, and then all the years after that. Leading up to his current situation. Nothing! Not a single moment in the 33 years of moments to prove Von wrong. Von forced a very mocking laugh,
“I am amazed anyone needed ME to have you killed. I am surprised you haven’t killed yourself!” That sparked a thought in Von’s head.
“That’s it! You should kill yourself!” Von hurried himself to his feet, almost spilling his whiskey. He slammed the glass on the table and presented the gun to William.
“Take it! Kill yourself with it. Come on! You can’t tell me you have never thought about offing your pathetic self! I have read your journal ya know?” William was fearful. His skepticism told him this had to be a trick. How could the killer be giving him the gun? Could he be that stupid?
“Fucking take it you pussy! I won’t stand here like this forever!” William clutched the gun in his sweaty palms. He could feel the warm steel collecting his sweat. The power in his hands made him tremble.
“You like how it feels? That raw power! My Father gave me that gun, see the engraving on it?” William turned the gun looking at the etched letters in the steel life is meant to end.
“My father gave it to me on his death bed, as a reminder ya know?” there was an awkward pause in the conversation before William found the words lodged in his throat.
“W-whats to keep me from killing you now?”
“Oh William don’t be ridiculous, clearly I know you better than you know yourself. Why would I hand you the gun unless I knew full well you wouldn’t use it against me? That would be sheer stupidity on my part, seems that I am five steps ahead of you in this mental game.” William raised the barrel, pointing the steel at Von. Von didn’t even flinch; he just held that same grin on his face. William oddly admired Von in this moment. Von held himself with such confident and poise, it seemed that Von always got his way in life. William envied Von.
“William get on with it already, you’re wasting my time! You’re not going to shoot me. Put the gun to your head and end this already!” there was sleight agitation in Von’s voice. William placed the gun in his palm, still holding it firmly with his right hand; he looked the gun over taking note of the power it held. William began to run through his life again, his tormented childhood. Even his parents disliked him! Verbally abusing him just like the kids at the school yard. High school was no better, none of it was better. The whole thing was fucked. His entire life was just a pathetically sad movie to him now. He was powerless to the emotions stirring within him. William lifted the gun, and placed the opening to his temple, the barrel formed perfectly to the soft skin on his temple. Almost eerily prefect. For once William had all the power. Von stared over at William, he almost felt bad for how pathetically easy this all was. He kept his grin steady he didn’t want to lose this moment. Von had worked for this moment his entire life. The emotion boiled over inside William it reached his peak burning inside him. All his energy was forced into one pull of the trigger. William fell limp in the chair his blood showered the wall and furniture. Von witnessed the gruesome seen, soaking in his victory for a bit. Von washed down the success with the rest of the whiskey and went on his way. Leaving in time for the uniforms to show up.
Collecting evidence, dusting for fingerprints, the whole 9 yards, The investigators and clean up crews did the job to the tee. The led investigator was a burly man named Mike Evenger. He exuded the prefect cop aura. He had the look of a cop. Mike surveyed the scene as if calculating it in its entirety before paying attention to the detail. After a few minutes of silent observation Mike made his way over the bags dropped by the askew end table. He rifled through the bags and pulled a few receipts from the bags dated with today’s date. The first receipt read “m9 berretta hand gun 235$”. The second one read “Hand gun engraving 35$”. Mike chuckled at the easy of his job. The case was open and closed; William H. Pence's story was just another troubled suicide.
(The end, for those who didn’t get it the whole story is a metaphor for person we want to be. We create this perfect image of ourselves (Von) and when we fall short of becoming that person it kills us inside.)
“Calm down William, have a seat and relax will ya? You’re always so uptight…” Von trailed off expecting William to do exactly as he said.
“I am not going to sit down, what are you doing in my house!?!” Williams stress was evident in his voice now.
“Ah William, so stubborn, when a man with a gun asks you to sit…” William took note of the slender black barrel pointed at his chest, and finished Von’s sentence for him by sitting down on the seat across from Von.
“Good, doesn’t that feel so much better? We can have a true discussion now!” Von’s voice was calm and confident, polar opposite of his counterpart William.
“w-what are you doing in my house?” William was choking on his fear now.
“William, you need to relax, how can we have a lively conversation when you are sputtering for words?” William was at a loss, he had no way of regaining his composure. Millions of thoughts raced up and down his brain’s nerve fibers, calculating the possibilities, without a single answer.
“Well William, it’s quite evident I am here to kill you.” Williams’s heart beat spiked, he could hear and feel it all through his body. It was surely loud enough for Von to hear.
“You should see your face right now William, pricelessly pathetic! Almost the same face you make when you climax with that two dollar whore you buy every Friday.” Was that what this is about William thought? It was his only clue to this man’s identity so far.
“No William, this isn’t about the whore” Von put as much emphasis on the word whore as he could, then chuckled to himself.
“Your face reads like a book, I can literally watch your mind piece together your thoughts”… “No, I can’t actually read your mind William, don’t be ridiculous! At this rate though I might as well do your half of the conversation for you!” William was in such a panic Vons predictive nature was actually baffling to him. Though it could easily be chalked up to the talents of a person who knew the ways of the human mind, an interrogator or a shrink, but William was so in shock he could not draw on logical conclusions such as those.
“ William William William, it would be nice to hear some words come out of that mouth, your beginning to come off as a tad bit rude.” William stumbled for words, any words, but they were logged somewhere in the bottom of his throat. With no intention of finding their way past his lips.
“A simple exchange of pleasantries would be a good start William” Von began to impatiently tap his fingers on the arm of the chair, but pleasantries seemed so pointless to William, he didn’t care for a name! He was told this man was going to murder him, why would he want his name! Without waiting for William to respond Von did the introduction himself
“My name is Von. But I can see that you don’t care much for pleasantries at this point, so I guess I will just get to the business end of it all. People want you dead William, and when someone needs someone else dead around here, I am the guy. I get the job done you see? Unlike you. See I am very different from you. In almost every way! How ironic to be killed by your polar opposite.” Vons smile never seemed to fade, it was more of a grin. It clung to his face at all times, even as he talked. William finally summoned the courage to talk.
“Why would someone want me dead? I don’t harm anyone!”
“Well William, that’s exactly it. You are not a bother to anyone! You hardly exist in the eyes of most people. Such a waste of life, that’s not just my opinion either. You are so scared to live that you actually suck the life out of living for everyone else!”
“Who!?!?! Who do I suck the life out of?” William sputtered.
“Does it matter? Look at what you said! You didn’t even bother denying the fact that you are a life sucker, you just accepted it. Says a lot don’t you think?” Von raised his glass to his lips tasting the Whiskey, then flattened the glass out at eye level as if to gather some sort of evidence about the whiskey visually that he did not deduce earlier.
“So-so, I have been down on my luck a bit lately.”
“Lately? I am almost offended that you thought I would buy that line of shit! Why don’t you try umm, your whole life maybe?” William racked his mind for a time when he wasn’t an utter failure, and he even failed at that.
“Look, not a single word in retort! You couldn’t come up with on example to prove me wrong?” William sifted through his entire life, his friendless childhood, his girlfriend less high school years. The brief year he attended college before dropping out, and then all the years after that. Leading up to his current situation. Nothing! Not a single moment in the 33 years of moments to prove Von wrong. Von forced a very mocking laugh,
“I am amazed anyone needed ME to have you killed. I am surprised you haven’t killed yourself!” That sparked a thought in Von’s head.
“That’s it! You should kill yourself!” Von hurried himself to his feet, almost spilling his whiskey. He slammed the glass on the table and presented the gun to William.
“Take it! Kill yourself with it. Come on! You can’t tell me you have never thought about offing your pathetic self! I have read your journal ya know?” William was fearful. His skepticism told him this had to be a trick. How could the killer be giving him the gun? Could he be that stupid?
“Fucking take it you pussy! I won’t stand here like this forever!” William clutched the gun in his sweaty palms. He could feel the warm steel collecting his sweat. The power in his hands made him tremble.
“You like how it feels? That raw power! My Father gave me that gun, see the engraving on it?” William turned the gun looking at the etched letters in the steel life is meant to end.
“My father gave it to me on his death bed, as a reminder ya know?” there was an awkward pause in the conversation before William found the words lodged in his throat.
“W-whats to keep me from killing you now?”
“Oh William don’t be ridiculous, clearly I know you better than you know yourself. Why would I hand you the gun unless I knew full well you wouldn’t use it against me? That would be sheer stupidity on my part, seems that I am five steps ahead of you in this mental game.” William raised the barrel, pointing the steel at Von. Von didn’t even flinch; he just held that same grin on his face. William oddly admired Von in this moment. Von held himself with such confident and poise, it seemed that Von always got his way in life. William envied Von.
“William get on with it already, you’re wasting my time! You’re not going to shoot me. Put the gun to your head and end this already!” there was sleight agitation in Von’s voice. William placed the gun in his palm, still holding it firmly with his right hand; he looked the gun over taking note of the power it held. William began to run through his life again, his tormented childhood. Even his parents disliked him! Verbally abusing him just like the kids at the school yard. High school was no better, none of it was better. The whole thing was fucked. His entire life was just a pathetically sad movie to him now. He was powerless to the emotions stirring within him. William lifted the gun, and placed the opening to his temple, the barrel formed perfectly to the soft skin on his temple. Almost eerily prefect. For once William had all the power. Von stared over at William, he almost felt bad for how pathetically easy this all was. He kept his grin steady he didn’t want to lose this moment. Von had worked for this moment his entire life. The emotion boiled over inside William it reached his peak burning inside him. All his energy was forced into one pull of the trigger. William fell limp in the chair his blood showered the wall and furniture. Von witnessed the gruesome seen, soaking in his victory for a bit. Von washed down the success with the rest of the whiskey and went on his way. Leaving in time for the uniforms to show up.
Collecting evidence, dusting for fingerprints, the whole 9 yards, The investigators and clean up crews did the job to the tee. The led investigator was a burly man named Mike Evenger. He exuded the prefect cop aura. He had the look of a cop. Mike surveyed the scene as if calculating it in its entirety before paying attention to the detail. After a few minutes of silent observation Mike made his way over the bags dropped by the askew end table. He rifled through the bags and pulled a few receipts from the bags dated with today’s date. The first receipt read “m9 berretta hand gun 235$”. The second one read “Hand gun engraving 35$”. Mike chuckled at the easy of his job. The case was open and closed; William H. Pence's story was just another troubled suicide.
(The end, for those who didn’t get it the whole story is a metaphor for person we want to be. We create this perfect image of ourselves (Von) and when we fall short of becoming that person it kills us inside.)
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
The Demons and Angels are Raging inside me
This was the moment i had tonight, the same one i have every few nights i did my best attempt to capture it. this is one sitting. so not any edits or proofreads. so i doubt how good it will be.
(The Demons and Angles are raging inside me)
Dirt and weeds never felt so safe, creating a cradle for me as my eyes got lost in the stars. The sky gleamed with them, like thousands of bits of glass suspended above my head. The guitars from my head phones summoned the memories I missed, tearing through my neutral emotion. The nostalgic feelings where back, tugging at my heart. Mixing inside me into some odd proportions of happiness and sorrow, if only sorrow didn’t always win in the end. White fuzz streaked across the sky, gently engulfing the moon in its soft caress. It was that time again, time for the demons and angels to rage inside me. No insect or breeze could stir my mind as the war begun. My mind was at war with itself my thoughts where the artillery, exploding with emotions that I could feel all up and down my spine. The demons took their first shots. Placing the doubt in the back of my head, brooding negative questions. Will I ever become somebody? Will I always be alone? No one will ever understand me. The thoughts took their dark twists and turns down dim lit alleys and the hopeless avenues inside my head. The stars looked darker with each thought, the air felt cooler. What’s the point of living? Would anyone care if I was gone? My thoughts toyed with my fragile ties to life, making me toe the edge. Just to see if they could get me to jump off. If I ever had tears, they would have streamed down my face. But tears where for the weak, and I was still pretending to be strong. The dark emotions filled me to the brim as I began to choke. Only an angel could save me now. My phone gently buzzed, a handful of txts, none from the one I wanted to see. Beginning to wonder if she even existed, if she would ever be there to save me. Save me from myself. It’s hard to pick yourself up, when your always the one to knock yourself down. The next set of vocals came over the head phones. The clouds resumed their travels, freeing the moon up to glow again. It was time for the demons to stop their lies. Erecting myself from the dirt I took one last look at all. The sky in its entirety. It held hope, somewhere behind the moon, somewhere mixed in with all those stars, I always found hope if I looked hard enough. My feet danced their way out of the darkness. The soft lights inside the house caressed my troubled soul. The demons where gone, at least until tomorrow.
(The Demons and Angles are raging inside me)
Dirt and weeds never felt so safe, creating a cradle for me as my eyes got lost in the stars. The sky gleamed with them, like thousands of bits of glass suspended above my head. The guitars from my head phones summoned the memories I missed, tearing through my neutral emotion. The nostalgic feelings where back, tugging at my heart. Mixing inside me into some odd proportions of happiness and sorrow, if only sorrow didn’t always win in the end. White fuzz streaked across the sky, gently engulfing the moon in its soft caress. It was that time again, time for the demons and angels to rage inside me. No insect or breeze could stir my mind as the war begun. My mind was at war with itself my thoughts where the artillery, exploding with emotions that I could feel all up and down my spine. The demons took their first shots. Placing the doubt in the back of my head, brooding negative questions. Will I ever become somebody? Will I always be alone? No one will ever understand me. The thoughts took their dark twists and turns down dim lit alleys and the hopeless avenues inside my head. The stars looked darker with each thought, the air felt cooler. What’s the point of living? Would anyone care if I was gone? My thoughts toyed with my fragile ties to life, making me toe the edge. Just to see if they could get me to jump off. If I ever had tears, they would have streamed down my face. But tears where for the weak, and I was still pretending to be strong. The dark emotions filled me to the brim as I began to choke. Only an angel could save me now. My phone gently buzzed, a handful of txts, none from the one I wanted to see. Beginning to wonder if she even existed, if she would ever be there to save me. Save me from myself. It’s hard to pick yourself up, when your always the one to knock yourself down. The next set of vocals came over the head phones. The clouds resumed their travels, freeing the moon up to glow again. It was time for the demons to stop their lies. Erecting myself from the dirt I took one last look at all. The sky in its entirety. It held hope, somewhere behind the moon, somewhere mixed in with all those stars, I always found hope if I looked hard enough. My feet danced their way out of the darkness. The soft lights inside the house caressed my troubled soul. The demons where gone, at least until tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Poems?
I know poems are lame unless written by experts. i am pretty bad with poem writing but these where a couple i found on my computer i wrote a long while ago. i hope you enjoy them.
(Leave Me Here)
Leave me here, as childhood fades away
Leave me here when tomorrow is today
Leave me here, when you truly find yourself
Leave me here, when you understand the life you live
Leave me here, when you hold the one you really love
Leave me here, because one step is one too far
My memories will be your reminder
To lead you on when I could not
We all took steps toward the future
I went stumbling back
No one to catch me, no one to help me
Leave me here, when you move on.
(Venom)
Venom running through my veins toxicity reaches its potential
Swallow the sorrow, wallow in the anxiety
Solitude amongst the crowds
Escapism becomes a comfort
Drawing peace from an empty and influenced mind for the night
The regrets awaiting the morning light
Can’t be free from the shackles, when the shackles are all to hold on to
life tight around the neck, till death it finally musters
and with that last gasp before death, may you take notice of life.
(Leave Me Here)
Leave me here, as childhood fades away
Leave me here when tomorrow is today
Leave me here, when you truly find yourself
Leave me here, when you understand the life you live
Leave me here, when you hold the one you really love
Leave me here, because one step is one too far
My memories will be your reminder
To lead you on when I could not
We all took steps toward the future
I went stumbling back
No one to catch me, no one to help me
Leave me here, when you move on.
(Venom)
Venom running through my veins toxicity reaches its potential
Swallow the sorrow, wallow in the anxiety
Solitude amongst the crowds
Escapism becomes a comfort
Drawing peace from an empty and influenced mind for the night
The regrets awaiting the morning light
Can’t be free from the shackles, when the shackles are all to hold on to
life tight around the neck, till death it finally musters
and with that last gasp before death, may you take notice of life.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
The night sky
“I couldn’t have made it this far without you” she diverted her eyes as she said it. I could tell the venerability of that statement was more than she could bear. In that moment I knew i had her, I was more than a goofy guy that served as a great distraction from reality, I was more than a friend. In that moment I was needed. I remember sliding my hands down to her hips, and rather than speak I caught her lips with mine. It wasn’t a simple kiss, it was the acknowledgement of our need for each other. I flipped my head back to soak in the spotted night sky. Thousands of crystals hung suspended there. The stars always looked better when I was with her. I looked back into her eyes, trying to decide which was more beautiful, those eyes or the night sky. That debate remains unsettled. I remain silent; I always knew I could steal several moments starring into her before she would break the visual stalemate. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” the question always made me laugh, growing up was something I had no intention of doing. “Ummm I don’t know, maybe an astronaut? Or maybe I’ll take over the reins for Santa Claus, he is getting pretty close to retirement.” I used any combination of words I could to make her smile. I had never seen whiter teeth line up so flawlessly, she stole her smile out of a magazine. I would have given the world just to see that smile.
We remained there for a while, her sitting on the hood of my truck with her arms around my shoulders. My hands at her hips, under her shirt, touching the soft skin just about her jeans. My body positioned between her legs. We could hardly keep our lips from each other. Pausing our conversations to press our lips together in passionate make out. I hung on her every word. Even the ones directed to hurt me, or push me away. How could such a small girl stir up so much emotion inside me? Just two kids on the cusp of adulthood, still dodging the responsibilities and the pressure of life. She slid her fingers across her forehead, forcing her bangs behind her ear before I could. Her golden blonde hair glowed, even at night. It was so soft; I ran my fingers through it, stopping my hand just behind her head supporting it for a kiss. As I pulled away her fierce blue eyes caught my attention again. They reminded me of ice. Everyone was amazed by how well she dealt with it all. The passing of her beloved brother,Riley, her parents’ divorce, She was literally watching her family being torn apart violently, and had been for years. But I knew better than to believe the strong face, I could see the truth in her eyes. Just behind the happiness of the moment it was there. The pain was there in her eyes, and I always saw it. A constant reminder that no matter how hard I tried, not matter what I did I could never give her the complete happiness that I wanted her to have.
Behind those eyes was her venerability, and I wanted her to share it with me. I wanted to help her with that pain, but that was too real of a moment for her to ever share with me. That wasn’t my role in all of this. The master plan read out much different that I would have liked. According to the master plan I was the distraction, a safety net. The guy to make the stupid jokes that would help her escape her life just for a moment. The safe choice, the guy that wouldn’t hurt her like the last one, I was the bridge from the last guy, to her next guy. Which happened to be one in the same. Those where things I didn’t know back then. Or at least I pretended not to know. Simply choosing to ignore them, because when it comes to matters of the heart logic plays no role. Logic told me it would never work, but my heart always wanted to take that long shot. Hoping for the fairytale ending. My fingers glided across the inside of her palms. Creating a delicate sensation for the both of us. Something I always loved to do with her. It had been over an hour since we started this goodbye. And I still didn’t have the will power to leave her. I just listened to the gentle vibrations of her words. Filling the gaps with my opinions and jokes. While my mind raced through the future with her, a future that never really existed. We agreed to part ways, calling it a night. My smile tore up my entire face, and I thought of her that entire drive home.
That was weeks ago, that perfect night still in the fore ground of my memory. But this night was tragically different. Two days ago she broke it off with me, with hardly a detail or reason. 30 minutes ago we shared an awkward run in at Riley’ s benefit dinner, even though we promised to remain friends and not let it become weird between us. And then there was now, the moment that summed up the awkwardness, and the break up. One table from me there she was, as beautiful as the night we shared under the stars, but this time it wasn’t me looking into her eyes. It wasn’t me making her smile, it wasn’t me by her side. It was him, the ex. Not even worth of a name in my story, yet he was and is the story. I was the bridge to him. He was the start of my story with her, and he was the end of my story with her. He played a bigger role than I could have dreamed to play. All night I stole a glance of her every chance I got. While visibly I was breaking, all too apparent to those around me. I witnessed the collapse of us. It was all too heart wrenching for me. The kind of emotional pain that hurt you to the extent of going numb, but even the numbness was just a reminder of the hurt.
It’s crazy now to think of the feelings and thoughts I had for her back then. They have almost all changed since then. With the exception of one… “I want her to be happy.” That night under the stars was the closest we would ever share. Everything after would lead to the collapse of us, and one of us had to fall the hardest. All along that role was mine to play. While I was hurting all I could wonder was did she ever even care? Did she ever feel anything for me at all? Or was I the only one meant to feel the emotion. After picking up the pieces, and wandering through the thoughts of what I could have done better to save the two of us. I learned that people come and go, but the memories of her and that night sky will be with me forever.
We remained there for a while, her sitting on the hood of my truck with her arms around my shoulders. My hands at her hips, under her shirt, touching the soft skin just about her jeans. My body positioned between her legs. We could hardly keep our lips from each other. Pausing our conversations to press our lips together in passionate make out. I hung on her every word. Even the ones directed to hurt me, or push me away. How could such a small girl stir up so much emotion inside me? Just two kids on the cusp of adulthood, still dodging the responsibilities and the pressure of life. She slid her fingers across her forehead, forcing her bangs behind her ear before I could. Her golden blonde hair glowed, even at night. It was so soft; I ran my fingers through it, stopping my hand just behind her head supporting it for a kiss. As I pulled away her fierce blue eyes caught my attention again. They reminded me of ice. Everyone was amazed by how well she dealt with it all. The passing of her beloved brother,Riley, her parents’ divorce, She was literally watching her family being torn apart violently, and had been for years. But I knew better than to believe the strong face, I could see the truth in her eyes. Just behind the happiness of the moment it was there. The pain was there in her eyes, and I always saw it. A constant reminder that no matter how hard I tried, not matter what I did I could never give her the complete happiness that I wanted her to have.
Behind those eyes was her venerability, and I wanted her to share it with me. I wanted to help her with that pain, but that was too real of a moment for her to ever share with me. That wasn’t my role in all of this. The master plan read out much different that I would have liked. According to the master plan I was the distraction, a safety net. The guy to make the stupid jokes that would help her escape her life just for a moment. The safe choice, the guy that wouldn’t hurt her like the last one, I was the bridge from the last guy, to her next guy. Which happened to be one in the same. Those where things I didn’t know back then. Or at least I pretended not to know. Simply choosing to ignore them, because when it comes to matters of the heart logic plays no role. Logic told me it would never work, but my heart always wanted to take that long shot. Hoping for the fairytale ending. My fingers glided across the inside of her palms. Creating a delicate sensation for the both of us. Something I always loved to do with her. It had been over an hour since we started this goodbye. And I still didn’t have the will power to leave her. I just listened to the gentle vibrations of her words. Filling the gaps with my opinions and jokes. While my mind raced through the future with her, a future that never really existed. We agreed to part ways, calling it a night. My smile tore up my entire face, and I thought of her that entire drive home.
That was weeks ago, that perfect night still in the fore ground of my memory. But this night was tragically different. Two days ago she broke it off with me, with hardly a detail or reason. 30 minutes ago we shared an awkward run in at Riley’ s benefit dinner, even though we promised to remain friends and not let it become weird between us. And then there was now, the moment that summed up the awkwardness, and the break up. One table from me there she was, as beautiful as the night we shared under the stars, but this time it wasn’t me looking into her eyes. It wasn’t me making her smile, it wasn’t me by her side. It was him, the ex. Not even worth of a name in my story, yet he was and is the story. I was the bridge to him. He was the start of my story with her, and he was the end of my story with her. He played a bigger role than I could have dreamed to play. All night I stole a glance of her every chance I got. While visibly I was breaking, all too apparent to those around me. I witnessed the collapse of us. It was all too heart wrenching for me. The kind of emotional pain that hurt you to the extent of going numb, but even the numbness was just a reminder of the hurt.
It’s crazy now to think of the feelings and thoughts I had for her back then. They have almost all changed since then. With the exception of one… “I want her to be happy.” That night under the stars was the closest we would ever share. Everything after would lead to the collapse of us, and one of us had to fall the hardest. All along that role was mine to play. While I was hurting all I could wonder was did she ever even care? Did she ever feel anything for me at all? Or was I the only one meant to feel the emotion. After picking up the pieces, and wandering through the thoughts of what I could have done better to save the two of us. I learned that people come and go, but the memories of her and that night sky will be with me forever.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Winters Last Snow Fall
“Here’s the keys man” James dangled the medley of metallic keys in front of Matt’s face. Matt plucked them from the air “Thanks man, this really means a lot to me.” “Don’t even mention it! You fucking deserve this, it’s been a rough few months, but you’ll get through this.” But James’s words where lost on Matt. He took the keys and hopped into his truck. James and his wife stood in the rear view mirror waving; their forced pity smiles did not have their intended effect. They just upset Matt. Matt surfed through the white noise till the tuner hit a clear line of vocals. Music was no consolation to matt; it was more of a sad reminder of the life he was trying to escape. “Nothing like some country music to kick a man while he is down” Matt muttered, as he surfed through the white noise some more for a more appropriate station. Matt’s mind wandered back in time, recalling all the shit that took place to put him here in his current state, behind the wheel of his soon to be repossessed truck, alone. Driving to cabin he didn’t own in an attempt to escape the collapsing house of cards that was his life in the present. “No job, pending divorce, and a dead dog, my life is a fucking country song!” Matt gripped to the radio. He still had about three hours of drive time before reality would be left in the rear view mirror.
The hum of the engine had lulled matt into the threshold of slumber. It took Matt’s senses a while to pick up the luminescent eyes caught in the head lights, Matt slammed on his brakes, jolting the wheel to one side just in time to skid past the potential road kill victim. Matt squeezed the wheel and took a deep breath, paralyzed as he came down from his adrenaline high. The deer’s tendency to remain motionless as a thousand pounds of steel came hurdling toward it had at one time seemed a foreign reaction to Matt. But in recent months Matt had come to understand the deer’s stillness all too well. With his veins cleared of adrenaline, and his shakiness under control Matt resumed his journey into the mountains. As Matts truck climbed in elevation snow began to appear. The mounds increasing in size as he climbed. Matt maxed out the heater; his body was not apt to handling cold weather. The truck eased along the snow packed roads into town, coming to a stop at a circle K in the heart of the small town of pine top. Matt exited the vehicle, his boots splashing in the slush. The door chimed with his entrance, and Matt wasted no time making his way to the liquors section. Matt extracted the cheapest plastic bottle of vodka he could find, using his last bills to pay for his liquid escape from reality.
Before long Matt was back on the road, snaking his way through the frozen back roads toward James’s cabin. The small cabin broke through the tree line into view. Its snow covered greed tin roof capped the wood log façade. A small porch hung from the front of the house. Sheltered by the overhand of the roof. Matt through his truck into park and made his way up the porch stairs, vodka in hand. He entered the two bedroom cabin just long enough to get a cup from the kitchen to poor himself a drink. Matt made his way back out onto the porch, where his ass meet a small weathered rocking chair that had seen better days. The first sip of vodka found its way through Matt’s lips, burning its way down his esophagus giving him the illusion of a warming sensation. Matt produced a small pocket knife and a chunk of wood from his pocket. He began to plunge the knife into the chunk of wood, and the shavings collected in a pile at Matt’s feet. After a few minutes the carving lost Matts interest and he peered out onto the snow covered yard; his mind began directing his memories to play out like ghosts before him. The childhood versions of him and James played baseball in the yard, and erected snow forts with which to do battle. The carefree moments of childhood where all matt had left of happiness, the rest had been drained from his soul with each year of adult hood. Matt’s second glass quickly found its way to the bottom of his stomach.
The childhood memories where gone now, and the devil and god where raging inside Matts head. Only one would retain victory over his soul. With each sip of liquid warmth Matts thoughts grew colder and darker. The alcohol accelerated Matt’s mental instability. With each sip Matt’s helplessness grew. His mind was waging war upon itself. Violent self-torture, unable to cope with his own existence. Matt had managed to gulp down over half of the bottle. Sleep was Matt’s only escape from the mental venom he created. His lids fell slowly, concealing his bloodshot eyes. Matt slipped into the unconscious, narrowly avoiding the torture of self-destruction.
Nothing broke the snowy silence. No animal stirred, no tree rustled but matt jolted back into reality. The transition was harsh; there was a shrill pounding in the foreground of his head. His body trembled with the night time frost that still clung to his exterior. Matt stumbled to his feet. Knocking the empty bottle of vodka across the porch and into the snow. Oddly Matt didn’t remember finishing the bottle in its entirety, but with nights like that you hardly do Matt thought. Matt’s eyes blurrily surveyed the yard again. The memory ghosts where gone now, but something remained. A small patch of snow in the yard was disturbed and discolored. Matt cleared his vision with the backs of his hands and journeyed out into the morning snow. Matt knelt down examining a small splotch of brownish red discoloration in the snow. Matt dipped his finger in the frosty liquid, he knew instantly that the mysterious substance was blood. Matt looked up to notice several more splotches in the snow, leading off into the brush line. Some small animal must have been injured. The blood was fairly recent, still slightly warm to the touch, so Matt followed the trail. Pushing aside the brush Matt noticed the small trickles of blood had become larger, quarter fulls, then handfuls. The amount of bloody discharge in the snow began to alarm Matt. This animal was much larger than he first anticipated.
Matt pushed his way into another clearing, revealing even more blood. His heart began to race anticipating that he was going to come upon a large wounded animal. Matt almost felt bad for the creature he was yet to see. Probably wounded by a hunter, or some careless creation of man. The animal was most likely helpless; destine to bleed out in the chilly morning air. Matt was so lost in compassion he almost didn’t notice the creature, nearly stumbling over top of it. This was no deer or elk, Matt had stumbled across a body! Matt back pedaled away from the bloody scene, falling onto his back. He was hyper- venaliting, trying to process what he was witnessing. The body lay face down in a pool of bloody snow. After the initial shock began to fade Matt began to take notice of an odd occurrence. There was only one set of tracks leading to the body. How could anyone stumble off into the snowfall without leaving tracks? The only tracks left in the snow where his own. As perplexing as this question was to matt several other details struck him. The man lying in the snow had eerily similar clothing on to his own. Virtually the same jacket, with the same snow hat with the same snow shoes that Matt was wearing. Matt mind was racing; he had to see the face of the corpse. Maybe it held the last piece to the puzzle. Matt grabbed the man by the back of the jacket and attempted to roll him over, but nothing happened. Matts hands where useless. He tried to warm them to get their feeling back when he realized something. He didn’t feel cold, Matt didn’t feel anything! He had laid out in the cold all night yet matt couldn’t even feel cold. Where his nerve ending that far damaged? He thought, maybe he was still drunk from the night, it was only hours ago. Matt pondered his situation, trying to reason with himself.
A rustle in the bushes behind Matt produced a uniformed man, it was an officer of the law. “I just found him like this! I swear, I have no idea how he got here” Matt exclaimed in an obvious panic. But the officer paid no attention to his pleas. The officer knelt down and turned the facedown man over onto his back. The reality of Matts situation began to set in, he was staring back into his own lifeless face. A flood of emotion hit Matt like a freight train. He couldn’t feel the worldly effects of the environment, but he could certainly feel the emotional confusion. The officer went about his duties, paying no attention to Matts sobs. He radioed dispatch, within minutes an entire crew emerged documenting the evidence and cleaning up the mess. Matts being was an unnoticed bystander. Only a witness to reality, rather than being a part of it. The investigators ruled it a suicide, and Matts bloody pocket knife was bagged up for evidence. Soon the gathering left matt alone, staring at a disturbed patch of snow where his body once existed. Matt searched for tears that he could not express. Matt could still feel the emotional pain, but could no longer express it. He was no longer a prisoner to his sad reality, now he was nothing more than a witness to the prison itself. Matts being remained to witness winters last snow fall. Able to see the falling flakes of snow, but unable to experience the sensation of them on his skin.
The hum of the engine had lulled matt into the threshold of slumber. It took Matt’s senses a while to pick up the luminescent eyes caught in the head lights, Matt slammed on his brakes, jolting the wheel to one side just in time to skid past the potential road kill victim. Matt squeezed the wheel and took a deep breath, paralyzed as he came down from his adrenaline high. The deer’s tendency to remain motionless as a thousand pounds of steel came hurdling toward it had at one time seemed a foreign reaction to Matt. But in recent months Matt had come to understand the deer’s stillness all too well. With his veins cleared of adrenaline, and his shakiness under control Matt resumed his journey into the mountains. As Matts truck climbed in elevation snow began to appear. The mounds increasing in size as he climbed. Matt maxed out the heater; his body was not apt to handling cold weather. The truck eased along the snow packed roads into town, coming to a stop at a circle K in the heart of the small town of pine top. Matt exited the vehicle, his boots splashing in the slush. The door chimed with his entrance, and Matt wasted no time making his way to the liquors section. Matt extracted the cheapest plastic bottle of vodka he could find, using his last bills to pay for his liquid escape from reality.
Before long Matt was back on the road, snaking his way through the frozen back roads toward James’s cabin. The small cabin broke through the tree line into view. Its snow covered greed tin roof capped the wood log façade. A small porch hung from the front of the house. Sheltered by the overhand of the roof. Matt through his truck into park and made his way up the porch stairs, vodka in hand. He entered the two bedroom cabin just long enough to get a cup from the kitchen to poor himself a drink. Matt made his way back out onto the porch, where his ass meet a small weathered rocking chair that had seen better days. The first sip of vodka found its way through Matt’s lips, burning its way down his esophagus giving him the illusion of a warming sensation. Matt produced a small pocket knife and a chunk of wood from his pocket. He began to plunge the knife into the chunk of wood, and the shavings collected in a pile at Matt’s feet. After a few minutes the carving lost Matts interest and he peered out onto the snow covered yard; his mind began directing his memories to play out like ghosts before him. The childhood versions of him and James played baseball in the yard, and erected snow forts with which to do battle. The carefree moments of childhood where all matt had left of happiness, the rest had been drained from his soul with each year of adult hood. Matt’s second glass quickly found its way to the bottom of his stomach.
The childhood memories where gone now, and the devil and god where raging inside Matts head. Only one would retain victory over his soul. With each sip of liquid warmth Matts thoughts grew colder and darker. The alcohol accelerated Matt’s mental instability. With each sip Matt’s helplessness grew. His mind was waging war upon itself. Violent self-torture, unable to cope with his own existence. Matt had managed to gulp down over half of the bottle. Sleep was Matt’s only escape from the mental venom he created. His lids fell slowly, concealing his bloodshot eyes. Matt slipped into the unconscious, narrowly avoiding the torture of self-destruction.
Nothing broke the snowy silence. No animal stirred, no tree rustled but matt jolted back into reality. The transition was harsh; there was a shrill pounding in the foreground of his head. His body trembled with the night time frost that still clung to his exterior. Matt stumbled to his feet. Knocking the empty bottle of vodka across the porch and into the snow. Oddly Matt didn’t remember finishing the bottle in its entirety, but with nights like that you hardly do Matt thought. Matt’s eyes blurrily surveyed the yard again. The memory ghosts where gone now, but something remained. A small patch of snow in the yard was disturbed and discolored. Matt cleared his vision with the backs of his hands and journeyed out into the morning snow. Matt knelt down examining a small splotch of brownish red discoloration in the snow. Matt dipped his finger in the frosty liquid, he knew instantly that the mysterious substance was blood. Matt looked up to notice several more splotches in the snow, leading off into the brush line. Some small animal must have been injured. The blood was fairly recent, still slightly warm to the touch, so Matt followed the trail. Pushing aside the brush Matt noticed the small trickles of blood had become larger, quarter fulls, then handfuls. The amount of bloody discharge in the snow began to alarm Matt. This animal was much larger than he first anticipated.
Matt pushed his way into another clearing, revealing even more blood. His heart began to race anticipating that he was going to come upon a large wounded animal. Matt almost felt bad for the creature he was yet to see. Probably wounded by a hunter, or some careless creation of man. The animal was most likely helpless; destine to bleed out in the chilly morning air. Matt was so lost in compassion he almost didn’t notice the creature, nearly stumbling over top of it. This was no deer or elk, Matt had stumbled across a body! Matt back pedaled away from the bloody scene, falling onto his back. He was hyper- venaliting, trying to process what he was witnessing. The body lay face down in a pool of bloody snow. After the initial shock began to fade Matt began to take notice of an odd occurrence. There was only one set of tracks leading to the body. How could anyone stumble off into the snowfall without leaving tracks? The only tracks left in the snow where his own. As perplexing as this question was to matt several other details struck him. The man lying in the snow had eerily similar clothing on to his own. Virtually the same jacket, with the same snow hat with the same snow shoes that Matt was wearing. Matt mind was racing; he had to see the face of the corpse. Maybe it held the last piece to the puzzle. Matt grabbed the man by the back of the jacket and attempted to roll him over, but nothing happened. Matts hands where useless. He tried to warm them to get their feeling back when he realized something. He didn’t feel cold, Matt didn’t feel anything! He had laid out in the cold all night yet matt couldn’t even feel cold. Where his nerve ending that far damaged? He thought, maybe he was still drunk from the night, it was only hours ago. Matt pondered his situation, trying to reason with himself.
A rustle in the bushes behind Matt produced a uniformed man, it was an officer of the law. “I just found him like this! I swear, I have no idea how he got here” Matt exclaimed in an obvious panic. But the officer paid no attention to his pleas. The officer knelt down and turned the facedown man over onto his back. The reality of Matts situation began to set in, he was staring back into his own lifeless face. A flood of emotion hit Matt like a freight train. He couldn’t feel the worldly effects of the environment, but he could certainly feel the emotional confusion. The officer went about his duties, paying no attention to Matts sobs. He radioed dispatch, within minutes an entire crew emerged documenting the evidence and cleaning up the mess. Matts being was an unnoticed bystander. Only a witness to reality, rather than being a part of it. The investigators ruled it a suicide, and Matts bloody pocket knife was bagged up for evidence. Soon the gathering left matt alone, staring at a disturbed patch of snow where his body once existed. Matt searched for tears that he could not express. Matt could still feel the emotional pain, but could no longer express it. He was no longer a prisoner to his sad reality, now he was nothing more than a witness to the prison itself. Matts being remained to witness winters last snow fall. Able to see the falling flakes of snow, but unable to experience the sensation of them on his skin.
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