Her fingers ran down the empty bed, her fingers delicately plucking the air, playing a harp that only she could hear. A phantom laid in her bed, keeping her up, restless, craving. She could the almost magic that happened, how two people could lay in bed hugging one another, as if they were stuck on a twin-sized mattress instead of a queen, then wind up on opposite sides, the blanket pulled unevenly.
She tried to sit up, but she had sunken into her bed, buried under comforters, her head too nestled into the pillow to bother to pull up. She remained laying with the lingering sense of lonliness. Her arm rested on her mid-section, she became acutely aware that holding the hand holding her was the safest feeling in the world, yet she was only there to hold herself. Ignoring the phantom, she closed her eyes, 'I am alone and I am fine.' She repeated in her head. Repeating it more than three times, she felt worse, having to justify her own lonliness in the night - the phantom would chuckle - served only to make her realize how alone she truly was. No one could comfort her, only herself, and only poorly. She took a deep breath in, then breathed out, once, twice, until she felt calm.
When she woke up in the morning, the had the blanket all to herself and the knowledge that even if she was alone, there was still a phantom that kept her company, even if he never meant to.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Furniture
(This is more of a blog post or a word vomit, than a fictional piece, but all the same it's published.)
There is a metaphor, that friends are like furniture. One day you'll move into a new apartment or house, and find your table doesn't fit the scheme of the house, it sticks out too much or maybe it's too bulky. Maybe the colors clash, or suddenly you prefer glass to wood. Maybe there isn't even a reason, you just no longer want that piece. You get rid of it. In the same way, after a year or five you have a friend and whatever close bond you two had, severs for some reason. Whether the bridges were burnt or you two grew away from one another. One might not have noticed, but you definitely did, and you didn't want to continue a friendship you knew was dying, a friendship past expired.
A metaphor like that, can be continued on and on forever, because there are near infinite amounts of things that can compare a friendship to furniture, no matter how attached you are to any piece, it just, stops. One day the functions of both just cease.
-
There is a metaphor, that friends are like furniture. One day you'll move into a new apartment or house, and find your table doesn't fit the scheme of the house, it sticks out too much or maybe it's too bulky. Maybe the colors clash, or suddenly you prefer glass to wood. Maybe there isn't even a reason, you just no longer want that piece. You get rid of it. In the same way, after a year or five you have a friend and whatever close bond you two had, severs for some reason. Whether the bridges were burnt or you two grew away from one another. One might not have noticed, but you definitely did, and you didn't want to continue a friendship you knew was dying, a friendship past expired.
A metaphor like that, can be continued on and on forever, because there are near infinite amounts of things that can compare a friendship to furniture, no matter how attached you are to any piece, it just, stops. One day the functions of both just cease.
-
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Tommy
I stretched my arms as I ran down the hill, my bottom lip buzzed “Brrzzz! Airplane landing!” I screamed as I crashed into the freshly grass. It had an overpowering smell and made my skin itch, but i loved grass all the same. I relaxed my body and laid in the grass and I closed my eyes counting to myself: one, two, three.
“Hey wake up, silly!” A voice called and my eyes opened wide and my mouth grinned, Tommy was beside me, his warm smile, like always. He wore a yellow t-shirt and blue jeans, his shoes were a dirty white, like always. We sat in silence for awhile, him picking at the grass and I stared at the clear sky.
My mom sat at the top of the hill, reading one of her new books. Her same grass-stained dress, her same beach towel, she made our trips to the park identical every trip. It was checkered blue and white - except for the green grass stains. It was her only dress she felt comfortable washing day in and day out, she said if it ever ripped she would use the fabric to make something else. She caught me watching her and waved, I returned the wave, then lowered her head and returned to her book.
“How long do you think I can stay down here before she gets worried?” My voice felt weak, I ripped out a chunk of grass and threw it in the air, the more nervous I got, the more grass I pulled - I never wanted to tell Tommy I only came to the park to see him. I started to scrunched the ripped grass into a ball and threw it in the air, it fell like confetti. Tommy laughed and watched as I continued pulling more grass - I hoped he'd never leave. The smell filled my nose after awhile and I remembered after school my father would come home from work, he smelled like grass too, his shoes were always green from mowing lawns every day. He looked at me with tired eyes, the kind of sunk in sadness no one could fix, but my mom tried.
“Not long, maybe. You should go up, soon.” His eyes twinkled, my cheeks felt warm, I continue to watch her though. “Is something wrong?” He finally asked, “Maybe you should go to your mommy, you look really pale.” His fingers were close to mine, "Please." He watched me.
“But I wanna stay down here with you!” I whined, looking at him, he was only slightly bigger than me, but he always knew what I was thinking and he was still my closest friend, even if he should hang out with kids his age, he always hung out with me instead. He turned and faced my mom, and I glanced at her as well.
My mom focused on me, then back at her book, for the first year, the only books mom bought were the kind that told you how to get over loss, they had pictures of people staring off into space, like mom did whenever we were outside - she never noticed but I watched her smile at me, then turn and look away. She stared at me for a long while. “Do you want to call it a day?” She called out, her hand flung on the floor, looking for the bookmark.
Tommy looked at me, “Stop worrying about me, bestest, I always come to tell you goodnight, remember?” He beseeched. I knew he'd be there, but I never saw him.
I watched the sun in the sky, it was getting closer to bottom, what mom called the horizon, then back at Tommy who smiled at me. “Bye, Tommy.” I finally said and ran up the hill and fell down, hugging her leg, “I wanna stay.” I said. I turned my head toward Tommy who was staring at us.
She giggled and knelt down, “I have another game we can play on this hill, do you want to?” She pulled my shirt down and brushed some of the grass off of my outfit. I nodded, going like a bobble-head. My mom kissed my forehead and laid down near the edge of the cliff, “Okay lay down like mommy.” She instructed, crossing her arms and looking at me as I copied her, she looked like those mummies at museums who always cross their arms, it made me giggle. With one arm she pushed herself, rolling down the hill like an unstoppable boulder, she was on her way to crash into Tommy, I could already see it. My throat felt too dry to scream and I closed my eyes, when I opened them again my mom was waving her arms and I couldn’t see Tommy. I started to choke and cry, I curled in a ball. I heard my mom run up the hill and her arms wrapped around me.
“Honey what’s wrong?” She asked, touching my cheek and forehead, “Did a bug bite you?” I cried louder, my throat felt raw and I panted as I breathed in, she looked more worried, “You must be thirsty and tired.” She whispered to herself and bit her lip. She packed our picnic supplies and held them with one arm and carried me with the other, by the time we got to our car she was out of breath. I looked at her, I felt dizzy and ready to pass out.
When we reached the house she sat me on the dining room table, giving me a big glass of water to drink and pulling out the fever reader. I drank the water halfway and she kissed my forehead, “You don’t feel warm.” She said, touching my cheek with her hand. She kissed my forehead and nodded to yourself. "Did something happen?"
“I feel better now mommy.” I said, my head was lowered and I watched my feet dangle. She nodded and walked to the cabinets, opening the doors and looking through them.
“What do you feel like having for dinner, honey?” She moved swiftly through the kitchen as she asked.
“My tummy isn’t hungry mommy.” I whispered.
She stared at me for awhile then walked over, “Do you want to go to bed then?” She murmured, her voice a lullaby. I nodded, looking at her and frowning. She picked me up again and walked me to my bedroom, and then tucked me into my sheets. She looked ready to cry as she stood over me, brushing the hair out of my face. “Are you sure you're alright, my love?” She pressed, her eyes wide as she watched me carefully. I looked at my hand for awhile before I make the ok sign with my thumb and pointing finger, she got up and waited at my bedroom door, staring at me as I looked at the ceiling; glow in the dark stars were stuck on the top, I always fell asleep staring at them, I tried waiting until they vanished but I usually fell asleep before then. After a long time, she closed the door and left. I hurt my neck to look around. Tommy’s hand appeared first from the closet, then the rest of his body, the closet door creaked open.
“Hi Leslie!” He said, grinning widely. He stepped over my stuffed animals and stood.
I kicked off my bed covers and ran to hug him, giving a quiet giggle. “I thought you were gone forever.” I whispered to him. I didn’t stop looking at his face, wanting to remember every part of it, but every time I try and remember, he always changes: freckles that weren't there before, a nose that gets a little bigger, eyes that change colors. His eyes were blue last week and this week they are brown.
“I would never leave you, silly.” He said, putting his hands on his hips, “You just forgot about me, is all.”
I shook my head, “My mom was gonna crush you, I saw her.” I retorted, my hands on my hips, the same way my mommy looks at me when she knows I’ve done something wrong, the way I look at Tommy when he's being silly.
Tommy looked at me and shook his head, waddling to my bed and sitting on the edge of it, “Your mom couldn’t crush me if she tried.” I followed him, sitting beside him.
“Then why did it take you so long to come back?” I asked, my eyes felt like they were burning.
“You were busy with your mommy. I can’t take that away from you.” His voice was soft like mom’s, a lullaby. He looked at me and gave a nervous sort of smile, the kind where a frown peeks through no matter how hard you try.
“But I wanna be with you more than my mom.” I whispered.
He shook his head again, “You aren’t alone when you’re with your mom.” His hands reached for my cheek, "The only family you have is her."
“It feels like I’m alone though, sometimes I wonder if she even sees me.” I whispered, sniffling. It was silent for the longest moment; I could hear my mom trying to be quiet about cleaning the dishes, but I heard clattering all the same. “I miss my dad. Mommy’s different without him.” I took a deep breath, “She looks at me different, like she…” I stare off in the distance, “Like she’s remembering.”
Tommy looked at me, he was talking but no words came out, all I could hear were my own thoughts, I wanted my dad back, I wanted my mom back. “Mommy!” I cried out.
“Honey?” She called out, I heard quick steps and the door pushed open, she stared at me from the doorway, and one arm was all soapy and the other was watery.
I looked at her, I felt heavy and on fire. “Nevermind.” I said, getting back in bed and looked at my night stand. A small picture frame of my father when he was a child laid beside me, all the adults called him Thomas, but I knew him as daddy. I thought I heard Tommy say “I love you,” but it could have been my mommy too. The silence like banging pots and pans. My mommy left, Tommy left. I closed my eyes and waited to fall asleep.
“Hey wake up, silly!” A voice called and my eyes opened wide and my mouth grinned, Tommy was beside me, his warm smile, like always. He wore a yellow t-shirt and blue jeans, his shoes were a dirty white, like always. We sat in silence for awhile, him picking at the grass and I stared at the clear sky.
My mom sat at the top of the hill, reading one of her new books. Her same grass-stained dress, her same beach towel, she made our trips to the park identical every trip. It was checkered blue and white - except for the green grass stains. It was her only dress she felt comfortable washing day in and day out, she said if it ever ripped she would use the fabric to make something else. She caught me watching her and waved, I returned the wave, then lowered her head and returned to her book.
“How long do you think I can stay down here before she gets worried?” My voice felt weak, I ripped out a chunk of grass and threw it in the air, the more nervous I got, the more grass I pulled - I never wanted to tell Tommy I only came to the park to see him. I started to scrunched the ripped grass into a ball and threw it in the air, it fell like confetti. Tommy laughed and watched as I continued pulling more grass - I hoped he'd never leave. The smell filled my nose after awhile and I remembered after school my father would come home from work, he smelled like grass too, his shoes were always green from mowing lawns every day. He looked at me with tired eyes, the kind of sunk in sadness no one could fix, but my mom tried.
“Not long, maybe. You should go up, soon.” His eyes twinkled, my cheeks felt warm, I continue to watch her though. “Is something wrong?” He finally asked, “Maybe you should go to your mommy, you look really pale.” His fingers were close to mine, "Please." He watched me.
“But I wanna stay down here with you!” I whined, looking at him, he was only slightly bigger than me, but he always knew what I was thinking and he was still my closest friend, even if he should hang out with kids his age, he always hung out with me instead. He turned and faced my mom, and I glanced at her as well.
My mom focused on me, then back at her book, for the first year, the only books mom bought were the kind that told you how to get over loss, they had pictures of people staring off into space, like mom did whenever we were outside - she never noticed but I watched her smile at me, then turn and look away. She stared at me for a long while. “Do you want to call it a day?” She called out, her hand flung on the floor, looking for the bookmark.
Tommy looked at me, “Stop worrying about me, bestest, I always come to tell you goodnight, remember?” He beseeched. I knew he'd be there, but I never saw him.
I watched the sun in the sky, it was getting closer to bottom, what mom called the horizon, then back at Tommy who smiled at me. “Bye, Tommy.” I finally said and ran up the hill and fell down, hugging her leg, “I wanna stay.” I said. I turned my head toward Tommy who was staring at us.
She giggled and knelt down, “I have another game we can play on this hill, do you want to?” She pulled my shirt down and brushed some of the grass off of my outfit. I nodded, going like a bobble-head. My mom kissed my forehead and laid down near the edge of the cliff, “Okay lay down like mommy.” She instructed, crossing her arms and looking at me as I copied her, she looked like those mummies at museums who always cross their arms, it made me giggle. With one arm she pushed herself, rolling down the hill like an unstoppable boulder, she was on her way to crash into Tommy, I could already see it. My throat felt too dry to scream and I closed my eyes, when I opened them again my mom was waving her arms and I couldn’t see Tommy. I started to choke and cry, I curled in a ball. I heard my mom run up the hill and her arms wrapped around me.
“Honey what’s wrong?” She asked, touching my cheek and forehead, “Did a bug bite you?” I cried louder, my throat felt raw and I panted as I breathed in, she looked more worried, “You must be thirsty and tired.” She whispered to herself and bit her lip. She packed our picnic supplies and held them with one arm and carried me with the other, by the time we got to our car she was out of breath. I looked at her, I felt dizzy and ready to pass out.
When we reached the house she sat me on the dining room table, giving me a big glass of water to drink and pulling out the fever reader. I drank the water halfway and she kissed my forehead, “You don’t feel warm.” She said, touching my cheek with her hand. She kissed my forehead and nodded to yourself. "Did something happen?"
“I feel better now mommy.” I said, my head was lowered and I watched my feet dangle. She nodded and walked to the cabinets, opening the doors and looking through them.
“What do you feel like having for dinner, honey?” She moved swiftly through the kitchen as she asked.
“My tummy isn’t hungry mommy.” I whispered.
She stared at me for awhile then walked over, “Do you want to go to bed then?” She murmured, her voice a lullaby. I nodded, looking at her and frowning. She picked me up again and walked me to my bedroom, and then tucked me into my sheets. She looked ready to cry as she stood over me, brushing the hair out of my face. “Are you sure you're alright, my love?” She pressed, her eyes wide as she watched me carefully. I looked at my hand for awhile before I make the ok sign with my thumb and pointing finger, she got up and waited at my bedroom door, staring at me as I looked at the ceiling; glow in the dark stars were stuck on the top, I always fell asleep staring at them, I tried waiting until they vanished but I usually fell asleep before then. After a long time, she closed the door and left. I hurt my neck to look around. Tommy’s hand appeared first from the closet, then the rest of his body, the closet door creaked open.
“Hi Leslie!” He said, grinning widely. He stepped over my stuffed animals and stood.
I kicked off my bed covers and ran to hug him, giving a quiet giggle. “I thought you were gone forever.” I whispered to him. I didn’t stop looking at his face, wanting to remember every part of it, but every time I try and remember, he always changes: freckles that weren't there before, a nose that gets a little bigger, eyes that change colors. His eyes were blue last week and this week they are brown.
“I would never leave you, silly.” He said, putting his hands on his hips, “You just forgot about me, is all.”
I shook my head, “My mom was gonna crush you, I saw her.” I retorted, my hands on my hips, the same way my mommy looks at me when she knows I’ve done something wrong, the way I look at Tommy when he's being silly.
Tommy looked at me and shook his head, waddling to my bed and sitting on the edge of it, “Your mom couldn’t crush me if she tried.” I followed him, sitting beside him.
“Then why did it take you so long to come back?” I asked, my eyes felt like they were burning.
“You were busy with your mommy. I can’t take that away from you.” His voice was soft like mom’s, a lullaby. He looked at me and gave a nervous sort of smile, the kind where a frown peeks through no matter how hard you try.
“But I wanna be with you more than my mom.” I whispered.
He shook his head again, “You aren’t alone when you’re with your mom.” His hands reached for my cheek, "The only family you have is her."
“It feels like I’m alone though, sometimes I wonder if she even sees me.” I whispered, sniffling. It was silent for the longest moment; I could hear my mom trying to be quiet about cleaning the dishes, but I heard clattering all the same. “I miss my dad. Mommy’s different without him.” I took a deep breath, “She looks at me different, like she…” I stare off in the distance, “Like she’s remembering.”
Tommy looked at me, he was talking but no words came out, all I could hear were my own thoughts, I wanted my dad back, I wanted my mom back. “Mommy!” I cried out.
“Honey?” She called out, I heard quick steps and the door pushed open, she stared at me from the doorway, and one arm was all soapy and the other was watery.
I looked at her, I felt heavy and on fire. “Nevermind.” I said, getting back in bed and looked at my night stand. A small picture frame of my father when he was a child laid beside me, all the adults called him Thomas, but I knew him as daddy. I thought I heard Tommy say “I love you,” but it could have been my mommy too. The silence like banging pots and pans. My mommy left, Tommy left. I closed my eyes and waited to fall asleep.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
200 Words
He was staring at the blinking cursor on the computer screen, his fingers hovering over every letter, just one word to start, any word, something that will become a sentence, a paragraph. The blinking cursor, continued, taunting him. His coffee was already half empty, he’d had a snack break five minutes ago, the napkin was balled, just an inch from the trashcan. His chair creaked loudly as he leaned back, his eyes wandered to the walls. The computer clock was incorrect, no ticking of seconds, no cell phone within reach. He closed his eyes and grunted. Complete blackness surrounded him, blink of white, back to black, if he stayed long enough the four legged beast would come and attack him, thick green saliva would ooze from its mouth, he would see it for one second before everything became dark, it would come closer, closer
“Write.” It hissed lowly, with breathe reeking of stale coffee.
“I can’t.” He whined.
Its claws raised high as it slashed at him, “Write!” It repeated, over and over, slashing and gnawing at him. He would wake up with a jolt and stare at the blinking cursor. He wasn’t sure which was more terrifying anymore.
“Write.” It hissed lowly, with breathe reeking of stale coffee.
“I can’t.” He whined.
Its claws raised high as it slashed at him, “Write!” It repeated, over and over, slashing and gnawing at him. He would wake up with a jolt and stare at the blinking cursor. He wasn’t sure which was more terrifying anymore.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Blood Mixed With Shaving Cream
Rain drops hit the pavement, leaving pools of water on the sidewalk and rivers in the rain gutters, Dmitri held his jacket over his head as he ran through the streets, breaking up puddles that were forming. He held a cigarette in his teeth as he continued to run, his eyes darted between the buildings looking for an awning. He sometimes caught a glimpse of his reflection in the windows, walking calmly besides himself..
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He repeated over and over to himself, his feet and pants soaked, the small black box dug against his thigh, the question he left unasked burrowed in his mind. He slowed down and walked a few steps, then turned around. “I forgot my medication!” He gasped loudly. He had a small bottle left in his locker at work, and he left without taking it with him. The few left out in the rain gawked at the spectacle, before their heads turned away. “I knew I should have went back to work, I shoulda finished the day, not go to the damn pawn shop and ne-negotiate.” He sniffled, wiping the snot oozing from his nose, his teeth chattered. .
Not go home early and unexpected? What a surprise for her. Whispered through the air. Dmitri turned his head, blinking. His shoulders shrugged and continued walking.
“Irene, Irene, Irene. Why did you sleep with him?” His voice became more desperate as he asked himself, cursing every step. “. I was suppose to be working and you looking at...” He became silent. and stepped beneath a large canopy, the sound of the rain on the canopy was like tiny bombshells. He looked down at his feet, the floor, the water droplets creating a constant ripple in the ever expanding lakes of the sidewalks. Anything, anything to grab his attention. The men at the shipyard who gave a holler and a laugh at a crude joke, the hooker and the Rabi or something. He was too busy that day thinking of the ring. The ring, a small crystal, he had been saving money for months, forgoing drinks with his crew members for overtime.
Look at what you did for her, and she threw it back at your face. It spoke, louder.
“Why Dmitri, why did you have to hit her.” He said to himself loudly, as he walked back and forth under the cover. “That’s… unforgivable, even... if-.” He brpke it off. “How is she gonna marry you now, eh?” He continued to monologue, “Hell, I’d be lucky if she even let me back in the house.”
I can help you. Echoed, over and over. A laughter erupted, Dmitri’s neck turned, no one was around, he strained to listen. Silence. He smelled an overpowering cologne, the cheap kind that could make a dog faint from its ranking smell. Loneliness and emptiness. No broken glass to signify a broken bottle, no nothing.
A rapid movement caused Dmitri to look up, his breathe visible in a cloud of white smoke, the cigarette he never lit dropped on the floor and soaked in the water. A black shadow stared at him, its body jet black and the longer Dmitri stared, the thicker and larger it became, expanding and contracting, breathing. Its body dripped jet black ooze and bright red balls of light disappeared and reappeared, blinking. A wide, teeth baring smile appeared from the dark goo, a face and neck extended and leaned forward, inches away from Dmitri’s face.
“What.” Dmitri said, the only word he could think of, no scream, no curse words, just… what.
“I can help. You’ve been calling for my help for quite some time. Dmitri.” Its breathe reeked of dead animals, rotting corpses, left out in the summer heat, caught between the ships exterior, the salt preserved its body, Dmitri knew that smell, it filled his nose every time he cleaned ships, seaweed, dead fish, and dead animals.
“No. I would know if I called for you and I’m sure I didn’t.” Dmitri paused. “I didn’t.” He repeated.
“You need help.” The blob insisted. A long red tongue was visible behind the yellow teeth.
“And what help can you provide, huh?” Dmitri snapped, “Can you turn back time? Can you make Irene more faithful?” His teeth gritted and he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands.
The blob spoke in a quiet, whispering voice, “I can make you stronger, less impulsive, I can make you a better man.”
Dmitri remained quiet, “Why?” He looked at the blob, his hands shifted, he rubbed the back of his hand, grabbing a small cloth bracelet and rubbing the charm.
“Because-“ The creature hesitated, it’s arms flung out and grabbed Dmitri’s shoulders pushing him towards the wall, “You need help, Dmitri, you called me, Dmitri, I am going to help you. I am going to help you whether you want it or not Dmitri.” Dmitri’s mouth stood wide as he stared at the shadow. “You shouldn’t question those who help you, Dmitri.” The shadow slowly pushed itself into Dmitri, the edges slowly spread out like flames of a fire, grabbing onto his body, clung to him tighter than the wet clothes.
“No! Stop! Get the fuck off!” Dmitri gasped his arms flung, trying to rip the shadows off of him, they wrapped and tied his arms to his sides. The goo pushed its way into his mouth, and Dmitri choked on the soft gooey darkness. The rain seemed to lighten up, soft sprinkling from the sky.
“Don’t… shh…” The blob whispered as it engulfed itself in Dmitri’s body. His body twitched and fought, then relaxed and he stood still.
Dmitri gasped and stared around, the blob had disappeared. The anger and fear he felt no longer lingered in his mind. Let’s go home. His feet moved, each step methodical, he looked at his hand, black goo spread through his skin like black ink dropped in water. Keep going. As Dmitri walked out of the canopy, he no longer felt water touch his body, the clouds were softer, lighter, a faint rainbow. Dmitri looked back at his hand, completely blackened with shadows, his body gave a shudder.
“I can’t stay out in public like this!” Dmitri screamed “I can barely move on my own! Stop controlling me!” A lone woman looked at him, eyes wide. Dmitri studied her, stepping towards her, shoulders broad, fist clenched, breathing heavily, “I’m a monster.” He whispered. His fist was clenched and his nails dug deep within his palm. Monster, monster, monster.
The woman stared at him. “What?” She cowered and stepped back. She smelled like fresh cut flowers, but her makeup was smeared, the buttons on her blouse were one off, her eyes looked doughy and innocent, but her heels suggested something else entirely.
Dmitri’s eyes had a soft, reminiscent look, before they flashed anger, “Whore!” He screamed loudly.
The woman took another step backwards, she turned on her heel and was about to run when the black tentacles ripped out of his arms and grabbed the woman, grabbing her neck and choking, the black gradually filled her entire body, and within seconds she had disappeared completely. Dmitri gasped and stepped back, he looked around, did I really just murder a woman, like that? He thought to himself.
You didn’t murder, I murdered.
‘But no one can see you.’ Dmitri thought to himself, ‘Why did you murder her?’
Could I help myself to such a beautiful specimen? She was far too gorgeous for this life.
Dmitri stepped over the space where the body once was, and his feet took off, Dmitri felt them running mechanically. ‘What do I call you?’
My name is Dmitri, just like yours.
Dmitri attempted to stop his legs from moving, but they continued on, regardless. ‘You’re suppose to help me control my anger, look at what you’ve done!’
Let’s not stop and discuss this Dmitri, we should be going home. Home. Irene. Home.
Dmitri whimpered as his legs rushed up the steps to the apartment. He slid off his coat and dropped it on the floor besides the door, running to the bedroom. Irene laid sprawled on the bed, like a puppet left by itself.
How hard did you hit this woman?
Dmitri watched her, ‘She just… she sleeps most of the day anyway.’
That’s good Dmitri, now to the kitchen.
Dmitri put no struggle as his legs stepped to the kitchen, he grabbed dried spaghetti noodles from the cupboard and set up a pot with boiling water, his hands moved swiftly through the refrigerator as he pulled out the tomato sauce. He set up a sauce pan and poured the sauce in, letting it simmer. Shadows moved alongside with him as he set the table with the nice china dishes and the candles from the bathroom, down to their last quarter of wax. His hands hovered over the table, remembering the first dinner they had together. His grabbed the matches and lit the candles, staring at the flame. His legs felt a heaviness and his buckled, he grabbed the chair for support and stood straight once again, his hand grabbed his wrist and adjusted the charm, continuing to stare at the flame. The smell of the tomato sauce as it mixed with the herbs, the vanilla candles scent wavered through the air. Dmitri set the table and waited patiently, food and coffee always woke her up. The bed creak as Irene rolled off, he pretended not to notice, straining the spaghetti and setting on the China plates, pouring tomato sauce over the noodles. Her feet dragged to the kitchen, groggy, and when she stepped in the kitchen she looked at Dmitri. Her eyes laid on him, the sleepy, dull expression on her face shifted, her eyes widened and she stepped back.
“What are you doing back here?” She screamed.
Dmitri held his arms out, “Forgive me. I screwed up.”
She slapped his hands away and pushed his chest away, “No, no! Never in a million years!” She stared at him, her arms held up defensively.
Anger swelled in Dmitri, his heart beat rapid. Keep calm.
“I made your favorite, my love.” Dmitri forced into a whisper, softly kissing her forehead. “Never again, never will I hurt you.”
She whimpered, her body leaned in his, “Dmitri…” She stared at him, how, he wondered, how could fear and love exist in the same person at the same time?
“I will never hit you again.” Dmitri assured, he reached for her arm and she flinched, staring up at him. “Never.” He repeated, softly. He coaxed her to the table and pulled her seat out.
“Dmitri, love, if we could eat tomorrow, I have no appetite.” Her eyes laid on Dmitri, her mouth slightly open. She watched for the opening sign.
Dmitri stared at the table, the candle, nearly out of wax, the food no longer steaming hot, the little black box he had set in the freezer, so he could pull out dessert with that alongside it, the corner of his mouth twitched, “I’ll wrap plastic over the top.” He looked at her, then at the plates.
“Oh thank you my love.” Irene said, standing up and placing her arms around his neck, Dmitri stared off in the distance, the shadows in the wall twisted and contorted, a faint screeching laugh in the distance. “Honey you have red on your shirt.” Irene’s voice grew higher pitched. There was a brief pause.
“Tomato sauce, love. Tomato sauce. We’ll just throw it in the wash with club soda.” He smirked.
Dmitri and Irene laid in bed, curled together, Dmitri staring at the wall opposite of them. “Are we over?” He asked, his eyes watching the still shadows the lamp and dresser made against the wall.
Irene stared at him, “Honey we’re… so far from over.” She kissed his neck softly and smiled.
No, no, you still need help. So much work to do, my dear child, so very much.
“I didn’t know you could be so… delicate.” Irene kissed his shoulder, Dmitri felt her chapped lips gently peck his collar bones, the shadow slowly moved across the wall. Their slowed breathing was the only sound in the room, Irene gazed at Dmitri, his chest rising and falling as he breathed in and out, his eyes half closed. His gaze left the wall and focused on her, the swirling darkness disappeared, as Dmitri stared at Irene, he breathed in the faint floral smell, and her smell, a sweet honey-like smell. He remembered the woman, the fear in her eyes as Dmitri approached her and the shadows grabbed her, he hid his wince and looked back at her.
“Marry me, please, make me the happiest man in the world.” He whispered in her ear, he felt the need to do it before the shadow creature told him to. Her eyes lit like fireworks, her smile, wide.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She burst out, “Oh my god, yes!” She fell to her knees and kissed Dmitri, gave another cry of yes, her lips ran up his neck, kissing, until it reached his lips. She enveloped his lips, gently tugging them with every kiss. Her nails clawed in his back, “Yes.” She repeated one final time.
Dmitri closed his eyes and smiled. “I’m glad.” His eyes scanned her face, “It’s in the freezer, near the ice cream. The engagement ring.” He chuckled, “I would love to get it for you, but being here is more important.”
She kissed his cheek, “I can get it tomorrow.” She answered, laying her head on his chest.
“Good night, my wife, my love, my everything.” Dmitri felt the swirling darkness and flashing white sparks as he closed his eyes, a shrill cackle, and the sound of a woman screaming.
How does it feel to be a married man?
Dmitri looked around his bedroom, the sunlight bled in through the blinds.
“What happened?” Dmitri looked around, “Why aren’t I in a cell?”
Why would you be?
“I just had a feeling I would.” Dmitri mused.
“Honey are you up?” Irene’s voice chimed through the apartment.
“Hold on lovebug, I need to do my morning routine.” Dmitri pulled himself out of bed and dragged his feet to the bathroom, he let the water run in the sink. He stared at his reflection, dark circles laid beneath his eyes, the reflection stared back at him with a haughty disgust.
“Is it okay if I heat up the spaghetti?” Her voice rang through the apartment, an angelic choir.
“It’s fine dear.” Dmitri washed his face with water and poured the foam shaving cream in his hand, slowly patting it on his stubble.
“Honey are you shaving?” Irene walked into the bathroom, “You don’t work today, remember? You never shave on your off days.” She looked at him, slightly worried.
Dmitri blinked and smiled, “Of course.” He pulled the razor out from the bathroom cabinet, the orange case of pills right next to it. “I shouldn’t waste the cream though.” He gently tugged it down, the cream disappearing, leaving clean, soft, skin. “I also want to look my cleanest, we’re going out tonight.”
Irene squealed and smiled, “Let me know when you’re done shaving, so I can kiss you!” She giggled loudly and walked out the bathroom to the kitchen. “Where are we going?”
Dmitri stared at the mirror, the shadow raised through his body, his eyes turned yellow and his teeth grew sharp. The razor slipped and nicked his cheek, the blood mixed with the shaving cream. He screamed loudly and Irene cried out.
“Dmitri are you okay?” She ran through the kitchen and into the bedroom.
He looked at her, “I’m a monster.” He whispered. The shadows inched towards her on the door frame, just out of reach of grabbing her.
“Honey you look fine, it’s just a small scratch.” Irene smiled, wiping the white foam from his cheek. She kissed the newly shaven side. “I’m almost done with breakfast.” She whispered in his ear.
“How long does it take for you to reheat spaghetti?” Dmitri laughed. He stared at her, she was wearing his old sweatshirt, it hung limp against her, too many sizes too big.
“I’m adding stuff, you’ll see.” She turned and walked out. “Don’t forget your medication.”
Dmitri looked at the cabinet, “Yes hon.”
You don’t need medication. You have me. Dmitri stared at his reflection and finished shaving.
“Honey?” Irene called.
“Yes lovebug?” Dmitri answered.
“There is a pair of cops here to see you.”
The black shadows twisted and contorted, every fiber in his body told him to run, he stepped back, tripping on the laundry hamper, “A pair of cops?” He repeated. I thought I smelled bacon.
“Excuse me, Dmitri Perrolon, there was a reported suspicious man running around with your description in this neighborhood.” One of the cops called out, he sounded young, straight from the academy.
“We’ll I be sure to call if I see a suspicious man who looks like me.” He stepped out of the bathroom and smiled. The one who called out looked young, his hair was buzzed, his outfit crisp, the do-good smile on his lips.
We aren’t going to antagonize them.
“Would you please come with us?” The other cop requested, fatter, rounder, unshaven. He smelt of greasy hamburger, with too much onion stuck between the burger and the bun, and a hot dog with sauerkraut and more onions chopped between them, washed down with the health conscience diet cola.
“I would rather eat breakfast with my lovely wife.” Dmitri replied.
Both cops eyes narrowed. “You know, Mr. Perrolon, when people deny our request, usually they are hiding something.” The older one sneered. A cynic, far too old for this job and for this low level task.
Irene stepped in front of Dmitri, “He’s probably tired, he’ll go with you, he just needs to take his medication.” She eyed Dmitri, “He’s… impatient in the morning.” She smiled and waved, the engagement ring on her finger. “It’ll be for a brief moment dear. You’ll probably be back for dinner.”
The cops looked at Irene, “You must understand how suspicious this looks.”
“I understand.” She turned to Dmitri and grabbed his hands, “My love, please go with these cops.” She smiled, “I’ll be here when you get back.” A wink and another giggle.
Dmitri’s lips curled into a smile, “Yes, lovebug.” He walked to the cops, “Do I need handcuffs?”
“Do you?” The fat cop grunted.
Dmitri remained silent and walked past the two, they followed behind him.
“Goodbye my love.” Irene called from the apartment door, smiling.
Dmitri stepped into the cop car and sat down, the cops followed and sat in the front.
“Now we didn’t say this in front of the wife, Perrolon, but we have a witness.” The younger one said.
“Must be a case of mistaken identity.” Dmitri retorted.
“No, no. Your victim is still alive. You left her on the street.” The greasy pig sneered.
Dmitri tilted his head, “That’s not possible, I never attacked anyone.”
“She saw where you live. She followed you home.” The chubby bastard turned and faced Dmitri.
Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.
“I didn’t touch her, the shadows did.” Dmitri’s voice felt shaky.
Both the cops stared at him, “The shadows?” The younger asked. It sounded like a gang. The shadows.
Dmitri held out his arm, shadows flew around the car, through the fence that separated the cops from the backseat. “See? The shadows!” Dmitri cried. “Don’t you see?” His voice became more desperate.
Both cops stared, stone faced. “If you’re done playing, we’re going to question you now.” The false sincerity of the fat cop made the shadows wider, crazier.
Dmitri stared, “Stop ignoring them!” The shadows groped, grasping nothing. He cried loudly. “Stop it!”
The cops turned around and the greasy pig turned the ignition, driving toward the station. Dmitri leaned against the seat, the shadows slinked back into his skin, he glimpsed and saw his reflection in the top mirror. A giggling shadow winked.
“So, you take pills for… what exactly?” The older cop walked around the table and chairs. The walls were a grey color, paint chipped in some places. The shadows slowly crawled about, searching.
“Headaches.” Dmitri answered.
That’s right Dmitri, short answers.
“And what happens when you don’t take the pills?” The older cop asked. His suit wasn’t tucked, chest hair stuck out of the top of his shirt.
“Headaches.” Dmitri repeated. He looked at the younger cop who watched his companion closely.
“You don’t…” His eyes rolled, “Get angry and violently attack anyone who even speaks to you?” His shoulders shrugged, “Something like that maybe?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” Dmitri answered, staring at his reflection, his mouth movements, the corner of his mouth as he smiled, seemingly innocent, yet all Dmitri could think of was knocking out the fat cop with one shadow, pounding his grease covered, unshaven face into oblivion, while another shadow whipped around and choked the younger cop. The reflection he was looking at didn’t show those evil thoughts running through his mind, it was completely separate, a different world, the reflection was a different person than he. A sudden searing pain brought him to reality, his nails dug into the palm of his hand.
“Well?” The older cop asked.
Dmitri coughed and looked away, “What was the question again? I was lost in thought.”
“What is the medication you take?”
“Ris-ris-“ Shadows rose from the walls as Dmitri attempted to answer. “Risper-something or other.” Dmitri’s tongue tied itself, his eyes looked around the room, they swallowed the grey and the walls became black.
“Risperidone.” The younger cop chimed in.
“And what do you treat with riiii-riii-risperidone?” The older cop sneered at Dmitri as he paced around the room. The younger cop watched him, his mouth opened.
“Headaches. Haven’t you already asked this?” Dmitri’s voice had an exasperated tone. “I could swear I’ve answered you so many times, I get really bad headaches and I can’t do nothing all day but lay in bed, I need Risperidone for headaches and if you can’t understand me then please, just leave me be or charge me! I’m tired of being pushed around by you because you have a badge and authority!” He stood up, his finger pointed at the cop.
“Do you have issues with authority?” The older cop walked to the table and smiled at Dmitri with a smug sense of superiority. His teeth grew sharp and yellow as Dmitri continued to stare.
Dmitri gave a weak smile and a nervous laugh, “I just- I just want to get home to my wife.” He answered, sitting back down. He cleared his throat, “Back to my wife.”
The older cop stepped back and grunted, “We already got you for the attack.” He answered, “And you aren’t getting off with some psych defense mumbo jumbo, you hurt that woman in furious anger and you’re going to pay time for it. Just admit you’re guilty and we’re done.”
The swirling shadows wrapped around Dmitri, “I’m not guilty.” He whispered.
“What was that?” The older cop asked. “I’m hard of hearing.” He glared at the young cop and there was momentarily silence in the room.
Just admit you’re guilty to the bastard.
“I’m guilty, okay? I-I didn’t mean to, but I hit that woman!” Dmitri stumbled on his words.
“Choked.” The young cop corrected.
Don’t mess around, just admit to it!
“You can’t remember your own crime?” The older cop growled.
Dmitri gave another loud scream and grabbed his head, “Choked! I choked that woman! I left her on the cement while I ran home! Just sentence me and get it over with!”
The younger cop remained quiet, “Let’s go to lock-up for the night.”
“I’ll take the plea bargain, whatever paper work I gotta sign to go to jail.” Dmitri answered quickly.
Both cops looked at him, “We’ll get this settled tomorrow.” They answered, helping Dmitri stand up. Dmitri watched the shadows envelop the world around him, men’s faces turned to brightly colored masks, as they stepped through to the jail cells, the bright orange jumpsuits of the other cellies where fluorescent against the black background, the shadows licked their outfits, their faces, hideous, laughter erupted and wolf whistles distorted as Dmitri stepped into his cell, he smelled the rank smell of piss and shit, the very same words he would describe his mood. His cellmate looked at him, Dmitri couldn’t make out his face beneath the shadowy coverage. A screeching cry pierced through, Dmitri felt the sudden urge to rip out his ears, his nails dug into his palms, the same pain that ran through his body as he stood frigid in the cell.
“Are you okay?” The words indistinct, sounding like his cellmate was underwater and not five feet away. Dmitri gave a dry heave, he felt himself gasp for air, yet he couldn’t breathe, he felt his legs collapse under his own weight. The gargled voices and the smell of urine faded, as blackness overcame Dmitri’s body, numbness, Goodbye, echoed in his mind, until everything had completely ceased to exist. His body twitched.
Dmitri blinked his eyes open and he stared at the judge from the defendant chair.“Dmitri Perrolon, you are hereby charged Not Guilty, with reason of mental disease or defect, however…” The judge paused, “You are to serve time for your crime in a mental facility, until it is deemed you are fit for society once more.” He banged on the gavel and Dmitri stood up, bowing his head, he turned and looked at the seats in the stands, the psychologist who spoke on his behalf and the two cops sat, watching, the woman he attacked sat on the defendant seat, all sympathetic towards him, but no Irene, she sold the ring for the lawyer. He followed the bailiff to the jail cells, keeping his head low, his thumb rubbed his wrist, where his bracelet was once tied.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He repeated over and over to himself, his feet and pants soaked, the small black box dug against his thigh, the question he left unasked burrowed in his mind. He slowed down and walked a few steps, then turned around. “I forgot my medication!” He gasped loudly. He had a small bottle left in his locker at work, and he left without taking it with him. The few left out in the rain gawked at the spectacle, before their heads turned away. “I knew I should have went back to work, I shoulda finished the day, not go to the damn pawn shop and ne-negotiate.” He sniffled, wiping the snot oozing from his nose, his teeth chattered. .
Not go home early and unexpected? What a surprise for her. Whispered through the air. Dmitri turned his head, blinking. His shoulders shrugged and continued walking.
“Irene, Irene, Irene. Why did you sleep with him?” His voice became more desperate as he asked himself, cursing every step. “. I was suppose to be working and you looking at...” He became silent. and stepped beneath a large canopy, the sound of the rain on the canopy was like tiny bombshells. He looked down at his feet, the floor, the water droplets creating a constant ripple in the ever expanding lakes of the sidewalks. Anything, anything to grab his attention. The men at the shipyard who gave a holler and a laugh at a crude joke, the hooker and the Rabi or something. He was too busy that day thinking of the ring. The ring, a small crystal, he had been saving money for months, forgoing drinks with his crew members for overtime.
Look at what you did for her, and she threw it back at your face. It spoke, louder.
“Why Dmitri, why did you have to hit her.” He said to himself loudly, as he walked back and forth under the cover. “That’s… unforgivable, even... if-.” He brpke it off. “How is she gonna marry you now, eh?” He continued to monologue, “Hell, I’d be lucky if she even let me back in the house.”
I can help you. Echoed, over and over. A laughter erupted, Dmitri’s neck turned, no one was around, he strained to listen. Silence. He smelled an overpowering cologne, the cheap kind that could make a dog faint from its ranking smell. Loneliness and emptiness. No broken glass to signify a broken bottle, no nothing.
A rapid movement caused Dmitri to look up, his breathe visible in a cloud of white smoke, the cigarette he never lit dropped on the floor and soaked in the water. A black shadow stared at him, its body jet black and the longer Dmitri stared, the thicker and larger it became, expanding and contracting, breathing. Its body dripped jet black ooze and bright red balls of light disappeared and reappeared, blinking. A wide, teeth baring smile appeared from the dark goo, a face and neck extended and leaned forward, inches away from Dmitri’s face.
“What.” Dmitri said, the only word he could think of, no scream, no curse words, just… what.
“I can help. You’ve been calling for my help for quite some time. Dmitri.” Its breathe reeked of dead animals, rotting corpses, left out in the summer heat, caught between the ships exterior, the salt preserved its body, Dmitri knew that smell, it filled his nose every time he cleaned ships, seaweed, dead fish, and dead animals.
“No. I would know if I called for you and I’m sure I didn’t.” Dmitri paused. “I didn’t.” He repeated.
“You need help.” The blob insisted. A long red tongue was visible behind the yellow teeth.
“And what help can you provide, huh?” Dmitri snapped, “Can you turn back time? Can you make Irene more faithful?” His teeth gritted and he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands.
The blob spoke in a quiet, whispering voice, “I can make you stronger, less impulsive, I can make you a better man.”
Dmitri remained quiet, “Why?” He looked at the blob, his hands shifted, he rubbed the back of his hand, grabbing a small cloth bracelet and rubbing the charm.
“Because-“ The creature hesitated, it’s arms flung out and grabbed Dmitri’s shoulders pushing him towards the wall, “You need help, Dmitri, you called me, Dmitri, I am going to help you. I am going to help you whether you want it or not Dmitri.” Dmitri’s mouth stood wide as he stared at the shadow. “You shouldn’t question those who help you, Dmitri.” The shadow slowly pushed itself into Dmitri, the edges slowly spread out like flames of a fire, grabbing onto his body, clung to him tighter than the wet clothes.
“No! Stop! Get the fuck off!” Dmitri gasped his arms flung, trying to rip the shadows off of him, they wrapped and tied his arms to his sides. The goo pushed its way into his mouth, and Dmitri choked on the soft gooey darkness. The rain seemed to lighten up, soft sprinkling from the sky.
“Don’t… shh…” The blob whispered as it engulfed itself in Dmitri’s body. His body twitched and fought, then relaxed and he stood still.
Dmitri gasped and stared around, the blob had disappeared. The anger and fear he felt no longer lingered in his mind. Let’s go home. His feet moved, each step methodical, he looked at his hand, black goo spread through his skin like black ink dropped in water. Keep going. As Dmitri walked out of the canopy, he no longer felt water touch his body, the clouds were softer, lighter, a faint rainbow. Dmitri looked back at his hand, completely blackened with shadows, his body gave a shudder.
“I can’t stay out in public like this!” Dmitri screamed “I can barely move on my own! Stop controlling me!” A lone woman looked at him, eyes wide. Dmitri studied her, stepping towards her, shoulders broad, fist clenched, breathing heavily, “I’m a monster.” He whispered. His fist was clenched and his nails dug deep within his palm. Monster, monster, monster.
The woman stared at him. “What?” She cowered and stepped back. She smelled like fresh cut flowers, but her makeup was smeared, the buttons on her blouse were one off, her eyes looked doughy and innocent, but her heels suggested something else entirely.
Dmitri’s eyes had a soft, reminiscent look, before they flashed anger, “Whore!” He screamed loudly.
The woman took another step backwards, she turned on her heel and was about to run when the black tentacles ripped out of his arms and grabbed the woman, grabbing her neck and choking, the black gradually filled her entire body, and within seconds she had disappeared completely. Dmitri gasped and stepped back, he looked around, did I really just murder a woman, like that? He thought to himself.
You didn’t murder, I murdered.
‘But no one can see you.’ Dmitri thought to himself, ‘Why did you murder her?’
Could I help myself to such a beautiful specimen? She was far too gorgeous for this life.
Dmitri stepped over the space where the body once was, and his feet took off, Dmitri felt them running mechanically. ‘What do I call you?’
My name is Dmitri, just like yours.
Dmitri attempted to stop his legs from moving, but they continued on, regardless. ‘You’re suppose to help me control my anger, look at what you’ve done!’
Let’s not stop and discuss this Dmitri, we should be going home. Home. Irene. Home.
Dmitri whimpered as his legs rushed up the steps to the apartment. He slid off his coat and dropped it on the floor besides the door, running to the bedroom. Irene laid sprawled on the bed, like a puppet left by itself.
How hard did you hit this woman?
Dmitri watched her, ‘She just… she sleeps most of the day anyway.’
That’s good Dmitri, now to the kitchen.
Dmitri put no struggle as his legs stepped to the kitchen, he grabbed dried spaghetti noodles from the cupboard and set up a pot with boiling water, his hands moved swiftly through the refrigerator as he pulled out the tomato sauce. He set up a sauce pan and poured the sauce in, letting it simmer. Shadows moved alongside with him as he set the table with the nice china dishes and the candles from the bathroom, down to their last quarter of wax. His hands hovered over the table, remembering the first dinner they had together. His grabbed the matches and lit the candles, staring at the flame. His legs felt a heaviness and his buckled, he grabbed the chair for support and stood straight once again, his hand grabbed his wrist and adjusted the charm, continuing to stare at the flame. The smell of the tomato sauce as it mixed with the herbs, the vanilla candles scent wavered through the air. Dmitri set the table and waited patiently, food and coffee always woke her up. The bed creak as Irene rolled off, he pretended not to notice, straining the spaghetti and setting on the China plates, pouring tomato sauce over the noodles. Her feet dragged to the kitchen, groggy, and when she stepped in the kitchen she looked at Dmitri. Her eyes laid on him, the sleepy, dull expression on her face shifted, her eyes widened and she stepped back.
“What are you doing back here?” She screamed.
Dmitri held his arms out, “Forgive me. I screwed up.”
She slapped his hands away and pushed his chest away, “No, no! Never in a million years!” She stared at him, her arms held up defensively.
Anger swelled in Dmitri, his heart beat rapid. Keep calm.
“I made your favorite, my love.” Dmitri forced into a whisper, softly kissing her forehead. “Never again, never will I hurt you.”
She whimpered, her body leaned in his, “Dmitri…” She stared at him, how, he wondered, how could fear and love exist in the same person at the same time?
“I will never hit you again.” Dmitri assured, he reached for her arm and she flinched, staring up at him. “Never.” He repeated, softly. He coaxed her to the table and pulled her seat out.
“Dmitri, love, if we could eat tomorrow, I have no appetite.” Her eyes laid on Dmitri, her mouth slightly open. She watched for the opening sign.
Dmitri stared at the table, the candle, nearly out of wax, the food no longer steaming hot, the little black box he had set in the freezer, so he could pull out dessert with that alongside it, the corner of his mouth twitched, “I’ll wrap plastic over the top.” He looked at her, then at the plates.
“Oh thank you my love.” Irene said, standing up and placing her arms around his neck, Dmitri stared off in the distance, the shadows in the wall twisted and contorted, a faint screeching laugh in the distance. “Honey you have red on your shirt.” Irene’s voice grew higher pitched. There was a brief pause.
“Tomato sauce, love. Tomato sauce. We’ll just throw it in the wash with club soda.” He smirked.
Dmitri and Irene laid in bed, curled together, Dmitri staring at the wall opposite of them. “Are we over?” He asked, his eyes watching the still shadows the lamp and dresser made against the wall.
Irene stared at him, “Honey we’re… so far from over.” She kissed his neck softly and smiled.
No, no, you still need help. So much work to do, my dear child, so very much.
“I didn’t know you could be so… delicate.” Irene kissed his shoulder, Dmitri felt her chapped lips gently peck his collar bones, the shadow slowly moved across the wall. Their slowed breathing was the only sound in the room, Irene gazed at Dmitri, his chest rising and falling as he breathed in and out, his eyes half closed. His gaze left the wall and focused on her, the swirling darkness disappeared, as Dmitri stared at Irene, he breathed in the faint floral smell, and her smell, a sweet honey-like smell. He remembered the woman, the fear in her eyes as Dmitri approached her and the shadows grabbed her, he hid his wince and looked back at her.
“Marry me, please, make me the happiest man in the world.” He whispered in her ear, he felt the need to do it before the shadow creature told him to. Her eyes lit like fireworks, her smile, wide.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She burst out, “Oh my god, yes!” She fell to her knees and kissed Dmitri, gave another cry of yes, her lips ran up his neck, kissing, until it reached his lips. She enveloped his lips, gently tugging them with every kiss. Her nails clawed in his back, “Yes.” She repeated one final time.
Dmitri closed his eyes and smiled. “I’m glad.” His eyes scanned her face, “It’s in the freezer, near the ice cream. The engagement ring.” He chuckled, “I would love to get it for you, but being here is more important.”
She kissed his cheek, “I can get it tomorrow.” She answered, laying her head on his chest.
“Good night, my wife, my love, my everything.” Dmitri felt the swirling darkness and flashing white sparks as he closed his eyes, a shrill cackle, and the sound of a woman screaming.
How does it feel to be a married man?
Dmitri looked around his bedroom, the sunlight bled in through the blinds.
“What happened?” Dmitri looked around, “Why aren’t I in a cell?”
Why would you be?
“I just had a feeling I would.” Dmitri mused.
“Honey are you up?” Irene’s voice chimed through the apartment.
“Hold on lovebug, I need to do my morning routine.” Dmitri pulled himself out of bed and dragged his feet to the bathroom, he let the water run in the sink. He stared at his reflection, dark circles laid beneath his eyes, the reflection stared back at him with a haughty disgust.
“Is it okay if I heat up the spaghetti?” Her voice rang through the apartment, an angelic choir.
“It’s fine dear.” Dmitri washed his face with water and poured the foam shaving cream in his hand, slowly patting it on his stubble.
“Honey are you shaving?” Irene walked into the bathroom, “You don’t work today, remember? You never shave on your off days.” She looked at him, slightly worried.
Dmitri blinked and smiled, “Of course.” He pulled the razor out from the bathroom cabinet, the orange case of pills right next to it. “I shouldn’t waste the cream though.” He gently tugged it down, the cream disappearing, leaving clean, soft, skin. “I also want to look my cleanest, we’re going out tonight.”
Irene squealed and smiled, “Let me know when you’re done shaving, so I can kiss you!” She giggled loudly and walked out the bathroom to the kitchen. “Where are we going?”
Dmitri stared at the mirror, the shadow raised through his body, his eyes turned yellow and his teeth grew sharp. The razor slipped and nicked his cheek, the blood mixed with the shaving cream. He screamed loudly and Irene cried out.
“Dmitri are you okay?” She ran through the kitchen and into the bedroom.
He looked at her, “I’m a monster.” He whispered. The shadows inched towards her on the door frame, just out of reach of grabbing her.
“Honey you look fine, it’s just a small scratch.” Irene smiled, wiping the white foam from his cheek. She kissed the newly shaven side. “I’m almost done with breakfast.” She whispered in his ear.
“How long does it take for you to reheat spaghetti?” Dmitri laughed. He stared at her, she was wearing his old sweatshirt, it hung limp against her, too many sizes too big.
“I’m adding stuff, you’ll see.” She turned and walked out. “Don’t forget your medication.”
Dmitri looked at the cabinet, “Yes hon.”
You don’t need medication. You have me. Dmitri stared at his reflection and finished shaving.
“Honey?” Irene called.
“Yes lovebug?” Dmitri answered.
“There is a pair of cops here to see you.”
The black shadows twisted and contorted, every fiber in his body told him to run, he stepped back, tripping on the laundry hamper, “A pair of cops?” He repeated. I thought I smelled bacon.
“Excuse me, Dmitri Perrolon, there was a reported suspicious man running around with your description in this neighborhood.” One of the cops called out, he sounded young, straight from the academy.
“We’ll I be sure to call if I see a suspicious man who looks like me.” He stepped out of the bathroom and smiled. The one who called out looked young, his hair was buzzed, his outfit crisp, the do-good smile on his lips.
We aren’t going to antagonize them.
“Would you please come with us?” The other cop requested, fatter, rounder, unshaven. He smelt of greasy hamburger, with too much onion stuck between the burger and the bun, and a hot dog with sauerkraut and more onions chopped between them, washed down with the health conscience diet cola.
“I would rather eat breakfast with my lovely wife.” Dmitri replied.
Both cops eyes narrowed. “You know, Mr. Perrolon, when people deny our request, usually they are hiding something.” The older one sneered. A cynic, far too old for this job and for this low level task.
Irene stepped in front of Dmitri, “He’s probably tired, he’ll go with you, he just needs to take his medication.” She eyed Dmitri, “He’s… impatient in the morning.” She smiled and waved, the engagement ring on her finger. “It’ll be for a brief moment dear. You’ll probably be back for dinner.”
The cops looked at Irene, “You must understand how suspicious this looks.”
“I understand.” She turned to Dmitri and grabbed his hands, “My love, please go with these cops.” She smiled, “I’ll be here when you get back.” A wink and another giggle.
Dmitri’s lips curled into a smile, “Yes, lovebug.” He walked to the cops, “Do I need handcuffs?”
“Do you?” The fat cop grunted.
Dmitri remained silent and walked past the two, they followed behind him.
“Goodbye my love.” Irene called from the apartment door, smiling.
Dmitri stepped into the cop car and sat down, the cops followed and sat in the front.
“Now we didn’t say this in front of the wife, Perrolon, but we have a witness.” The younger one said.
“Must be a case of mistaken identity.” Dmitri retorted.
“No, no. Your victim is still alive. You left her on the street.” The greasy pig sneered.
Dmitri tilted his head, “That’s not possible, I never attacked anyone.”
“She saw where you live. She followed you home.” The chubby bastard turned and faced Dmitri.
Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.
“I didn’t touch her, the shadows did.” Dmitri’s voice felt shaky.
Both the cops stared at him, “The shadows?” The younger asked. It sounded like a gang. The shadows.
Dmitri held out his arm, shadows flew around the car, through the fence that separated the cops from the backseat. “See? The shadows!” Dmitri cried. “Don’t you see?” His voice became more desperate.
Both cops stared, stone faced. “If you’re done playing, we’re going to question you now.” The false sincerity of the fat cop made the shadows wider, crazier.
Dmitri stared, “Stop ignoring them!” The shadows groped, grasping nothing. He cried loudly. “Stop it!”
The cops turned around and the greasy pig turned the ignition, driving toward the station. Dmitri leaned against the seat, the shadows slinked back into his skin, he glimpsed and saw his reflection in the top mirror. A giggling shadow winked.
“So, you take pills for… what exactly?” The older cop walked around the table and chairs. The walls were a grey color, paint chipped in some places. The shadows slowly crawled about, searching.
“Headaches.” Dmitri answered.
That’s right Dmitri, short answers.
“And what happens when you don’t take the pills?” The older cop asked. His suit wasn’t tucked, chest hair stuck out of the top of his shirt.
“Headaches.” Dmitri repeated. He looked at the younger cop who watched his companion closely.
“You don’t…” His eyes rolled, “Get angry and violently attack anyone who even speaks to you?” His shoulders shrugged, “Something like that maybe?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” Dmitri answered, staring at his reflection, his mouth movements, the corner of his mouth as he smiled, seemingly innocent, yet all Dmitri could think of was knocking out the fat cop with one shadow, pounding his grease covered, unshaven face into oblivion, while another shadow whipped around and choked the younger cop. The reflection he was looking at didn’t show those evil thoughts running through his mind, it was completely separate, a different world, the reflection was a different person than he. A sudden searing pain brought him to reality, his nails dug into the palm of his hand.
“Well?” The older cop asked.
Dmitri coughed and looked away, “What was the question again? I was lost in thought.”
“What is the medication you take?”
“Ris-ris-“ Shadows rose from the walls as Dmitri attempted to answer. “Risper-something or other.” Dmitri’s tongue tied itself, his eyes looked around the room, they swallowed the grey and the walls became black.
“Risperidone.” The younger cop chimed in.
“And what do you treat with riiii-riii-risperidone?” The older cop sneered at Dmitri as he paced around the room. The younger cop watched him, his mouth opened.
“Headaches. Haven’t you already asked this?” Dmitri’s voice had an exasperated tone. “I could swear I’ve answered you so many times, I get really bad headaches and I can’t do nothing all day but lay in bed, I need Risperidone for headaches and if you can’t understand me then please, just leave me be or charge me! I’m tired of being pushed around by you because you have a badge and authority!” He stood up, his finger pointed at the cop.
“Do you have issues with authority?” The older cop walked to the table and smiled at Dmitri with a smug sense of superiority. His teeth grew sharp and yellow as Dmitri continued to stare.
Dmitri gave a weak smile and a nervous laugh, “I just- I just want to get home to my wife.” He answered, sitting back down. He cleared his throat, “Back to my wife.”
The older cop stepped back and grunted, “We already got you for the attack.” He answered, “And you aren’t getting off with some psych defense mumbo jumbo, you hurt that woman in furious anger and you’re going to pay time for it. Just admit you’re guilty and we’re done.”
The swirling shadows wrapped around Dmitri, “I’m not guilty.” He whispered.
“What was that?” The older cop asked. “I’m hard of hearing.” He glared at the young cop and there was momentarily silence in the room.
Just admit you’re guilty to the bastard.
“I’m guilty, okay? I-I didn’t mean to, but I hit that woman!” Dmitri stumbled on his words.
“Choked.” The young cop corrected.
Don’t mess around, just admit to it!
“You can’t remember your own crime?” The older cop growled.
Dmitri gave another loud scream and grabbed his head, “Choked! I choked that woman! I left her on the cement while I ran home! Just sentence me and get it over with!”
The younger cop remained quiet, “Let’s go to lock-up for the night.”
“I’ll take the plea bargain, whatever paper work I gotta sign to go to jail.” Dmitri answered quickly.
Both cops looked at him, “We’ll get this settled tomorrow.” They answered, helping Dmitri stand up. Dmitri watched the shadows envelop the world around him, men’s faces turned to brightly colored masks, as they stepped through to the jail cells, the bright orange jumpsuits of the other cellies where fluorescent against the black background, the shadows licked their outfits, their faces, hideous, laughter erupted and wolf whistles distorted as Dmitri stepped into his cell, he smelled the rank smell of piss and shit, the very same words he would describe his mood. His cellmate looked at him, Dmitri couldn’t make out his face beneath the shadowy coverage. A screeching cry pierced through, Dmitri felt the sudden urge to rip out his ears, his nails dug into his palms, the same pain that ran through his body as he stood frigid in the cell.
“Are you okay?” The words indistinct, sounding like his cellmate was underwater and not five feet away. Dmitri gave a dry heave, he felt himself gasp for air, yet he couldn’t breathe, he felt his legs collapse under his own weight. The gargled voices and the smell of urine faded, as blackness overcame Dmitri’s body, numbness, Goodbye, echoed in his mind, until everything had completely ceased to exist. His body twitched.
Dmitri blinked his eyes open and he stared at the judge from the defendant chair.“Dmitri Perrolon, you are hereby charged Not Guilty, with reason of mental disease or defect, however…” The judge paused, “You are to serve time for your crime in a mental facility, until it is deemed you are fit for society once more.” He banged on the gavel and Dmitri stood up, bowing his head, he turned and looked at the seats in the stands, the psychologist who spoke on his behalf and the two cops sat, watching, the woman he attacked sat on the defendant seat, all sympathetic towards him, but no Irene, she sold the ring for the lawyer. He followed the bailiff to the jail cells, keeping his head low, his thumb rubbed his wrist, where his bracelet was once tied.
Monday, July 16, 2012
A Green Thumb
Mother carried her silver
pail,
Gliding, never spilling a
drop.
She stepped into a clearing
and her dandelion children crowded around her.
Water me first mama,
me first.
Their voices raspy
they begged, whined, cried, screeched
She held her breath as she looked at them
solemn as a statue,
she stepped around them,
hiding the pain of ignoring her children
but her grandfather came first.
She stepped into a clearing
and her dandelion children crowded around her.
Water me first mama,
me first.
Their voices raspy
they begged, whined, cried, screeched
She held her breath as she looked at them
solemn as a statue,
she stepped around them,
hiding the pain of ignoring her children
but her grandfather came first.
An enormous oak, bark worn
down,
scars from vandals
parts of bark were black as coal from fires.
scars from vandals
parts of bark were black as coal from fires.
She stared,
reminiscing how she sat there as a child,
her grandfather read her stories until she fell asleep.
He protected her from harm,
made sure she was comfortable.
she tilted the pail and watered his ancient roots,
reminiscing how she sat there as a child,
her grandfather read her stories until she fell asleep.
He protected her from harm,
made sure she was comfortable.
she tilted the pail and watered his ancient roots,
as the mud softened
she turned away.
She quickened her pace
She quickened her pace
going to mother, a
rosebush.
She took the shears, rusted and caked with dirt
She took the shears, rusted and caked with dirt
and trimmed the dead
vines.
cutting her arm on the thorns,
the lines of blood rising from underneath the skin,
cutting her arm on the thorns,
the lines of blood rising from underneath the skin,
”Your children are
spoiled weeds.
You’re an awful mother.”
She looked at her mother,
beautiful flowers bloomed,
bright red, like a shade of lipstick.
She watered the ground,
and sighed deeply.
You’re an awful mother.”
She looked at her mother,
beautiful flowers bloomed,
bright red, like a shade of lipstick.
She watered the ground,
and sighed deeply.
Her children came last,
they hungrily drank the water,
they lapped up every last droplet,
once they were done
their eyes focused on her
Left with nothing, they
turned away.
Leaving the mother
with her empty pail
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
7-1-4-9-3
A man looked around uneasily, his eyebrows were raised and his eyes wide as he continued to gawk at the narrow hallway he was in. The walls were a harsh yellow, so vivid was the color that the man swore he smelled urine. The only thing that broke up the constant yellow of the wall was a painting, it was simple: white with a black dot. Across from that painting was another, black with a white dot, the paintings existed solely to cancel one another out, the man thought. He took a deep breath and choked a little, while he wasn't paying attention, the walls developed water stains. The chair creaked as he shifted and turned towards the receptionist. “H-how long will it be?”
He called out to her across the rows of empty seats. She was the only other person in the room, she was the guardian of the doors. Aside from the entrance at the other end of the hall, the receptionist guarded two doors, one on each side of her, he had no idea which door he was going to enter when the time came. He adjusted his satin blue tie, it was a little crumpled, and he had tied it too tightly so swallowing hurt. When she didn't respond, he looked down to his shoes, they shined and reflected the flickering lights, but beyond his shoes was the was multi-coloured carpet hell,
brown, black, and yellow swirls all throughout, the kind of carpet that hides stains very well by looking as if someone puked on it.
After sitting in silence for a few moments, the receptionist finally cleared her throat and looked at him. "Excuse me, what was your question?" Her mouth hung open a little as she called out to him, she wore cat-eye glasses that when the lights flickered, gave off a demonic shadow.
The man straightened his back as he turned to her, “How
long will it be?” His voice was louder as he spoke.
Her head tilted and her eyes wandered as she thought to herself, “Another five minutes.” She answered, giving a long pause as if it had special meaning. Fingernails clacked on the desk, causing his hair to stand up on the back of his neck as he looked at her. Turning away, he looked toward the painting: the black was in the center still, though it had grew in size since he last saw it, no longer a dot it morphed, nearly shrowding the white completely; he shook his
head and insisted it was nothing. Instead he decided to count to pass the
time, the flickers - he figured - were seconds. Three hundred flickers, and if she hasn't called him yet
he'll ask again. A buzzing sound, and the lights remained on, keeping the light. His mouth twitched into a smile and he resigned himself to counting: one mississippi, two mississippi...
...
Buzzing, clacking, he could hear a
faint scratching, he slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes - he had lost count.
He slowly counted again, the building groaned, surely enough time had passed. His eyes opened with sudden clarity.
“Now?” His voice grew impatient.
The same head tilt, the same glare, the same open mouth. With the flair reserved for a play, she pressed a button on the speaker. "Can we send him in now?" She spoke into it. There was no answer, instead she waved him over. “Closer,”
She whispered. He leaned over the desk, imbalanced as he tried to get as close as he could. She wore a red lipstick and he could smell the perfume on her, it wasn't very pleasant, a mix of different odors. The light gave her skin a yellow
color, he thought to himself as they stared in silence. Before he could react, she grabbed his tie and yanked him, so their noses were touching. "You'll be let in, when I say you can be let in, all right?" She whispered to him.
“O-okay!” The man choked out.
She let go of his tie and pressed her finger on his bottom lip, "Now be good boy and don't bug me anymore." She coaxed sweetly, her eyes remained fixed on his, piercing what must have been his soul.
The door to the left of them opened and a woman in a black veil and suit walked out, she made no inclination that she saw either of them as she walked to the door on the right of the receptionist.
“Oh Mister,
you can go in now.” The receptionist's voice had changed, now she spoke with
sultry low tone that had a hint of sweetness. Her eyes no longer the despising, burning glare.
He simply nodded and walked to the door, his hand on the knob, shaking, the knob felt slippery in his palm. He turned and entered the room, the receptionist watching him.
-
“What brings you here today?” The voice behind the desk asked. He was an overweight man, he had a bald head that looked lumpy in the dim light.
“I wanted to talk about-” He began
to speak. The man at the desk held up a finger, silencing him.
“We must introduce ourselves. I need
to know what file I'm looking at. First off, I'm Georgio Atanasiji.”
He declared as he held a hand out, the man shook it. Georgio pulled away his arm and
the man was left holding a prosthetic hand, he gasped and let go off
it, and it made a thud when it touched the floor. Georgio laughed
heartily, “Just an old joke my boy.” He pulled the sleeve
revealing his actual hand. “And I know your name and your file.”
The light flickered off for several seconds. “Are you ready?”
Georgio's voice boomed and the room echoed his voice,
Ready? ready? ready?
The man stared at him. “Ready?” he repeated. He
attempted to take a deep breath, but he felt constricted, damn tie. Instead, he
twitched, then shook, his body twisting and he contorted as he collapsed to the floor.
“What's wrong?” Georgio called
out. “You've been so impatient to come here and now you're
rejecting death? Rejecting me?” He gave a hearty laugh, “Was this not what you
wanted?” Georgio teased as he stood up.
The man started at Georgio. He seemed
much bigger now, if that was possible.The man held his
hand to his mouth, suppressing a coughing fit. One hand held his mouth while the
other fiddled with his tie.
“You think that's all that's keeping
you from breathing?” Georgio cackled as he watched from above.
The man looked up at him, he felt
weighed down, the tie, he managed to untie it and tore it off, yet he felt just as constricted. The man ripped the buttons off his shirt, fighting to get it off him. On his chest, a dark red blot was forming and growing. He let out a shriek and began crawling away, away from Georgio, away from death. He hit an obstacle, a pair of legs.
He looked up, The receptionist leaned down, grabbing his ear with one hand, her
other hand rested on his chest.
“The poor baby, he knows it's going to end, he knows his own mortality. Too bad he couldn't have put that to use earlier in his life, hmm?” She cackled.
“In an office you lived, and in an
office you'll die.” The man whispered to himself as he stared, paralyzed.
“Oh did an ex-lover tell you that?”
The receptionist grinned as she continued, “Being married to the job sure kills you, inside and out.”
Georgio glanced at her, silent. He took a step and the
building creaked and groaned every step. The lights flickered and after
every second in the dark, Georgio was closer to the man. The floor began to shake underneath his feet.
“W-what is my name.” He blurted
out.
Georgio stopped walking and his face contorted. "What?" The receptionist looked as perplexed.
“My name, I remember my badge
number. 7-1-4-9-3. But I don't remember my name.” The man's face, he had tears streaming down his
cheek as he spoke.
“Your name...” Georgio smiled,
“John.” He laughed and continued to walk towards him. The shadows pulled John into the ground, wrapping around him, hugging him, edging to cover him completely.
The receptionist smiled as John was being drowned in darkness, her red lips,
one of the last things John saw, before he was completely swallowed.
-
Footsteps were heard through the
building, a groan, a flicker. A man appeared before the receptionist.
“Hi. I have a...” He pulled out a folded letter, crinkled in his
hands.
The receptionist looked at him, she
had the most perfect red lips, he thought to himself, her mouth hung
open before she spoke. “Please have a seat.” She sung, to him she sounded like
jazz singer, too beautiful to be some secretary in a place like this. His eyes looked up, to someone past her; a man was pouring himself coffee, he wore a buttoned up
shirt, that was wrinkled and torn open, a tie left undone, and a pair of pants,
shred at the legs, he walked to the room on the right and opened the door. The woman coughed and the man looked at her again,
she glanced at the seats. He turned to the chairs, lined up on both sides of the hallway, both had a blank canvas, though one was all
white and one was all black. Must be some yin-yang bullshit, the man thought
and sat down, facing the all black painting. The lights flickered,
and he blinked, a white speck was in the center of the painting.
"I must be losing it." He said to himself.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
About Me
Well I guess this will be the first post of the blog and it's an about me.
I'm Aly and I'm 19, I love to read and write.
I don't know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)