It wasn't the blood or pain that ripped Jack from his dreamless sleep, it was his bladder.
He stumbled out of bed, still too lethargic to take notice of the affliction upon his chest. With mild frustration, he staggered towards the door, fumbling with
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Pandemonium -- Chapter 1
This was a night of firsts for Jack.
It was the first time he’d ever smoked in-doors, and the first time he had smoked in the nude. The girl curled up against him, arm resting on his chest, was also the first person he had ever slept with.
Jack didn’t really see her as beautiful, nor did he find her to be ugly. Attractive, but far from beautiful, as he saw it.
Jack eyed her softly, taking note of her furrowed brow, and twitching lips. That, and her indecipherable mumblings led Jack to assume that she wasn’t having the best of dreams.
“I hope my performance didn’t have anything to do with that...” Jack whispered to himself, half-jokingly.
Jack considered this to be an odd night for him. As a social hermit, he felt it strange to find himself in an apartment filled with inebriated college seniors, dwarfing him in age.
This girl, who had introduced herself as ‘Alexandria’, brought him here on what seemed to be a whim. Jack found it unusual for someone to run up to him on one of his nightly walks, inviting him to this cramped apartment. He found it even stranger that he decided to go along.
“Why am I here?” He thought to himself as he walked into a bastion of noises he found to be too loud, people he found to be too irritating, and various illicit substances he found to smell too putrid.
“What the hell am I doing?” He said to himself as Alexandria led him to the even smaller bedroom.
The girl had smiled at that point. It was a smile that made Jack feel uncomfortable, there was something behind it that he did not like, yet he did not know why.
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”
That smile never left her face throughout the entire experience. Jack had a hard time concentrating on the situation at hand because of it.
And now he lay, with all this and more running through his mind as the cigarette smoke danced like a translucent and graceful serpent above his head. He considered that to be far more beautiful than the girl.
As Jack turned to the digital clock beside the bed on which he rested, he saw that the numbers had just flickered to eleven fifty-seven.
Sighing, he shut off his mind, (an incredibly useful talent he had developed after many previous sleepless nights) and let the tides of sleep wash over him.
The very last thought that permeated Jacks mind was hoping that his dreams would not be as troubled as Alexandria’s.
Though Jack’s dreams that night would be peaceful as he had hoped, he would find the following day to be far stranger than this night of broken normality.
Alexandria will have died by her own hand by the time he awoke. Jack’s name will be carved into her own lifeless chest. And he would awake to find her name etched into his.
It was the first time he’d ever smoked in-doors, and the first time he had smoked in the nude. The girl curled up against him, arm resting on his chest, was also the first person he had ever slept with.
Jack didn’t really see her as beautiful, nor did he find her to be ugly. Attractive, but far from beautiful, as he saw it.
Jack eyed her softly, taking note of her furrowed brow, and twitching lips. That, and her indecipherable mumblings led Jack to assume that she wasn’t having the best of dreams.
“I hope my performance didn’t have anything to do with that...” Jack whispered to himself, half-jokingly.
Jack considered this to be an odd night for him. As a social hermit, he felt it strange to find himself in an apartment filled with inebriated college seniors, dwarfing him in age.
This girl, who had introduced herself as ‘Alexandria’, brought him here on what seemed to be a whim. Jack found it unusual for someone to run up to him on one of his nightly walks, inviting him to this cramped apartment. He found it even stranger that he decided to go along.
“Why am I here?” He thought to himself as he walked into a bastion of noises he found to be too loud, people he found to be too irritating, and various illicit substances he found to smell too putrid.
“What the hell am I doing?” He said to himself as Alexandria led him to the even smaller bedroom.
The girl had smiled at that point. It was a smile that made Jack feel uncomfortable, there was something behind it that he did not like, yet he did not know why.
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”
That smile never left her face throughout the entire experience. Jack had a hard time concentrating on the situation at hand because of it.
And now he lay, with all this and more running through his mind as the cigarette smoke danced like a translucent and graceful serpent above his head. He considered that to be far more beautiful than the girl.
As Jack turned to the digital clock beside the bed on which he rested, he saw that the numbers had just flickered to eleven fifty-seven.
Sighing, he shut off his mind, (an incredibly useful talent he had developed after many previous sleepless nights) and let the tides of sleep wash over him.
The very last thought that permeated Jacks mind was hoping that his dreams would not be as troubled as Alexandria’s.
Though Jack’s dreams that night would be peaceful as he had hoped, he would find the following day to be far stranger than this night of broken normality.
Alexandria will have died by her own hand by the time he awoke. Jack’s name will be carved into her own lifeless chest. And he would awake to find her name etched into his.
'Romantic'
"Please accept these trite metaphors for water, these butchered words of a late theologian. Let them play into your dreamy faith in star-crossed love, short sighted investment, and unconditional passion for the world behind your eyelids."
Absolution
This was a rough draft of the first chapter of a story that I have no plans of finishing. I like it enough that I feel comfortable enough to post it here.
Jack moved briskly through the field, eager to escape the biting cold and dew soaked grass that made it all that much worse for the lower portion of his body. He felt some relief seeing the silhouette of his destination outlined by the rising sun. To call it a ‘house’ would be far too kind. The fragmented abode that Jack approached was long since abandoned, and became a haven for adolescents to perform all sorts of various taboo acts in for a time, the taint of which still remained. Crossing the threshold where a door once stood, Jack slowed his movements to take note of the numerous murals of graffiti scattered about, stopping only briefly to shake off the undesired feeling of nostalgia.
He climbed the worn, creaky stairs; lowering his head to avoid the draft that permeated through the many rifts in the battered walls. Reaching the second story, Jack moved towards the young woman who sat on the floor whose attire, that included a short sleeved shirt, suggested she was unaffected by the cold. He said quite bluntly, “Your hair, you cut it.”
“Hey, stranger!” She said, flashing him a smile.
Jack ruffled her hair before taking a seat beside her. “It looked so much better long, you know that, right?”
The girl’s initial electric smile made her now forced one painfully obvious. “I felt like a change.”
“So,” Jack continued, ignoring the diversion. “Why am I here?”
The girl twisted uncomfortably, pulling her legs close to her chest as though she had finally become aware of the cold as she speculated whether the question was being asked of himself or her. “I… I need you to do something for me.”
Jack jumped to his feet. “Goddammit, Alice—I should’ve known.”
“Jack, wait!” Alice grabbed his arm as he stormed towards the stairs. “It’s not what you think!”
He turned; enraged to find her vibrant, green eyes locked onto his. “That’s always it, isn’t it? It’s different this time? Just like all the others? To Hell with you.” Just as he turned to leave, Jack felt her hand slip into his. Yanking away from her, he noticed the foreign object that now resided in his palm.
“I want you to have it.”
He opened his hand to find a crimson Zippo lighter with no defining features other than an inscription that had been crudely carved onto the side, a scrawl that implied haste when it came to be. Yet, he held this unremarkable object with a sense of reverence.
“I’m going to a place called *psychological treatment center/detox, to be named*, It’s somewhere in *state, to be named*. They… said I couldn’t smoke there.”
Jack turned back to face the girl, who’s vivid eyes now bore into the aged floorboards. “It’s supposed to be really nice. None of that white, rubber room and strait-jacket stuff.” With lips pursed tight and eyes searching her face for any trace of deceit, Jack remained silent.
“I know I’ve put you through more shit over the years than anyone deserves, and that I really fucked up, but you were the only person who at least tried, who believed in me, if for only a little while.”
Jack tried to maintain his sense of apprehension towards the girl, but he began to feel that her habitual ulterior motive behind such carefully chosen words was not present.
“…And I appreciate that, I really do. So, I just want to ask you to give me one more chance. I know it goes against everything you now believe in, but if you could just cast aside what you know one last time… it would really help me become the person I tricked you into believing I was.”
With that last line the spell of her romantic words was broken. Memories that caused Jack’s eyes to burn with emotions he couldn’t attach words to flooded back with such intensity that the fine line separating man from beat seemed to blur for no longer than a heartbeat.
A sharp inhale, gritted teeth, and clenched fists was all that stood between him and a crime of passion. Alice showed no fear, or even surprise upon seeing this reaction. Her lip quivered, and her head lowered even further, shame overtaking every part of her being. There was naught but dead silence, save for the rustling of leaves and grass.
There were so many things Jack could have, and to him, should have said at that moment; hateful words and the numerous synonyms to follow them that had hidden beneath thick feelings of pity and hopelessness. Yet the silence maintained.
Alice knew there was nothing left to say, and retreated down the steps, numb and disappointed in herself for succumbing to such an unrealistic feeling of hope that Jack might excuse her past deceit.
Jack’s eyes turned to the lighter, transfixed by it as he tried to replay in his head everything that had just occurred. He could not seem to grasp lucidity. So surreal. Too surreal… His shaking hand engulfed the object.
He raised his arm to chuck the brightly colored trinket through a shattered window. Though, at the peak of his reach, he stopped quite suddenly; his face displaying the same disappointment that Alice’s did. Disappointment brought about by the realization that perhaps he was the one who still had a foot stuck in the past.
Jack cursed under his breath and somberly turned his head towards the now risen sun.
Jack moved briskly through the field, eager to escape the biting cold and dew soaked grass that made it all that much worse for the lower portion of his body. He felt some relief seeing the silhouette of his destination outlined by the rising sun. To call it a ‘house’ would be far too kind. The fragmented abode that Jack approached was long since abandoned, and became a haven for adolescents to perform all sorts of various taboo acts in for a time, the taint of which still remained. Crossing the threshold where a door once stood, Jack slowed his movements to take note of the numerous murals of graffiti scattered about, stopping only briefly to shake off the undesired feeling of nostalgia.
He climbed the worn, creaky stairs; lowering his head to avoid the draft that permeated through the many rifts in the battered walls. Reaching the second story, Jack moved towards the young woman who sat on the floor whose attire, that included a short sleeved shirt, suggested she was unaffected by the cold. He said quite bluntly, “Your hair, you cut it.”
“Hey, stranger!” She said, flashing him a smile.
Jack ruffled her hair before taking a seat beside her. “It looked so much better long, you know that, right?”
The girl’s initial electric smile made her now forced one painfully obvious. “I felt like a change.”
“So,” Jack continued, ignoring the diversion. “Why am I here?”
The girl twisted uncomfortably, pulling her legs close to her chest as though she had finally become aware of the cold as she speculated whether the question was being asked of himself or her. “I… I need you to do something for me.”
Jack jumped to his feet. “Goddammit, Alice—I should’ve known.”
“Jack, wait!” Alice grabbed his arm as he stormed towards the stairs. “It’s not what you think!”
He turned; enraged to find her vibrant, green eyes locked onto his. “That’s always it, isn’t it? It’s different this time? Just like all the others? To Hell with you.” Just as he turned to leave, Jack felt her hand slip into his. Yanking away from her, he noticed the foreign object that now resided in his palm.
“I want you to have it.”
He opened his hand to find a crimson Zippo lighter with no defining features other than an inscription that had been crudely carved onto the side, a scrawl that implied haste when it came to be. Yet, he held this unremarkable object with a sense of reverence.
“I’m going to a place called *psychological treatment center/detox, to be named*, It’s somewhere in *state, to be named*. They… said I couldn’t smoke there.”
Jack turned back to face the girl, who’s vivid eyes now bore into the aged floorboards. “It’s supposed to be really nice. None of that white, rubber room and strait-jacket stuff.” With lips pursed tight and eyes searching her face for any trace of deceit, Jack remained silent.
“I know I’ve put you through more shit over the years than anyone deserves, and that I really fucked up, but you were the only person who at least tried, who believed in me, if for only a little while.”
Jack tried to maintain his sense of apprehension towards the girl, but he began to feel that her habitual ulterior motive behind such carefully chosen words was not present.
“…And I appreciate that, I really do. So, I just want to ask you to give me one more chance. I know it goes against everything you now believe in, but if you could just cast aside what you know one last time… it would really help me become the person I tricked you into believing I was.”
With that last line the spell of her romantic words was broken. Memories that caused Jack’s eyes to burn with emotions he couldn’t attach words to flooded back with such intensity that the fine line separating man from beat seemed to blur for no longer than a heartbeat.
A sharp inhale, gritted teeth, and clenched fists was all that stood between him and a crime of passion. Alice showed no fear, or even surprise upon seeing this reaction. Her lip quivered, and her head lowered even further, shame overtaking every part of her being. There was naught but dead silence, save for the rustling of leaves and grass.
There were so many things Jack could have, and to him, should have said at that moment; hateful words and the numerous synonyms to follow them that had hidden beneath thick feelings of pity and hopelessness. Yet the silence maintained.
Alice knew there was nothing left to say, and retreated down the steps, numb and disappointed in herself for succumbing to such an unrealistic feeling of hope that Jack might excuse her past deceit.
Jack’s eyes turned to the lighter, transfixed by it as he tried to replay in his head everything that had just occurred. He could not seem to grasp lucidity. So surreal. Too surreal… His shaking hand engulfed the object.
He raised his arm to chuck the brightly colored trinket through a shattered window. Though, at the peak of his reach, he stopped quite suddenly; his face displaying the same disappointment that Alice’s did. Disappointment brought about by the realization that perhaps he was the one who still had a foot stuck in the past.
Jack cursed under his breath and somberly turned his head towards the now risen sun.
Honest
For a time I took solace in those forsaken ‘realities’ denying honesty, genetic destiny. Absolving those pretty delusions and grandiose illusions will come at other’s expense; I will set the world alight, and watch as it burns.
And as those flames lick at my heels and heart, I’ll cool the tongues of those residing in my highest eschalon, not a soul beyond.
The individual masks I have crafted know the fallacy that others might fall victim to; that they are all special little snowflakes. That patterns and instinct cannot dictate their bliss and heartache.
These masks will play ever so carefully, intricately into such lack of rational. What is perceived to be my face will be what they want and need, and on that desire I will feed.
And as those flames lick at my heels and heart, I’ll cool the tongues of those residing in my highest eschalon, not a soul beyond.
The individual masks I have crafted know the fallacy that others might fall victim to; that they are all special little snowflakes. That patterns and instinct cannot dictate their bliss and heartache.
These masks will play ever so carefully, intricately into such lack of rational. What is perceived to be my face will be what they want and need, and on that desire I will feed.
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