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“Tell me a story.”
“What kind of story?”
“Any story, I want to hear you tell a story.”
“Okay, well, a man walks into a job interview. He politely introduces himself and sits down, eager to be done with it. The conversation starts off friendly and relaxed. This man is asked to tell a story. But the man has no story, he can’t think of anything. So he tells the story of how he made up a story and landed a job. A couple of years later, the man goes up to his boss and asks him, ‘why did you hire me?’ To which his boss replied, ‘Because you can tell stories.’ The man was confused. ‘But I have no stories to tell.’ To this, his boss just smiled and walked away.”
The other man chuckled, “that’s your story?”
“Yeah, is it good enough to get me the job?”
“Well, that depends. Do you have any stories to tell?”
They both laughed and shook hands.
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He opens the door, says hello, and falls onto his bed as the last remnants of the sun disappear from the sky. He falls asleep, and dreams of the most beautiful paradox.
A field of green like a rich ember of hope stretches out to the line of trees standing guard over the field, the sole survivors (thinned out); the last vestige of the forest offers a glimmer of the refuge it used to be. He places one foot in front of the other in a calculated bid to reach the trees, to reach the last, final refuge. Each footstep is an echo of the turmoil within, a lens into the battle that rages in his soul and in his mind. He and his soul are torn, love and hate, everything and nothing; the battle goes on.
Energy like a currency, the whole battle rages, footsteps echo in the hole within. The energy drains, his heart aches; blackness surrounds and bleeds him dry. Feeling lost and confused, the darkness pulls at his arms, torments his legs, fills his head like a poison. As the darkness gains strength, the disorientation furthers to the point of utter confusion; movement with the absence of movement; swirling, still, standing, sitting all at the same time, each motion a desperate attempt for reason, for sanity in the world of nothing that fills his heart and body with dread, with fear, with nothing. He tries, desperately, for a foothold, a rock, something sane and stable; the darkness twirls him about like a piece of grass in a tornado tearing through sturdy houses, built on foundations of concrete; order is destroyed while this one tiny blade of grass is thrown about, abused, and then thrown to the sky.
The black is so real, so tangible, and yet so elusive that when he tries to think, to comprehend, his mind is lost in the whirlwind of activity, the commotion that is nothing. The most beautiful paradox.
With stars and the moon shining bright overhead, he continues his trek to the truth, he wills himself across the expanse, the only thread left. He momentarily stops to look up at the sky, strewn with so many stars, so many little specks of light from the past, each one a symbol of hope, a symbol of defiance against the black that is night. The moon outshines all of the stars though, spreading its rays to the land, over the fear, love and sand; the world grows, leaving itself behind, a distant memory for comparison.
After several steps he looks back to the sky, his newfound source of hope and courage, and lets his vision drop out of focus; the stars slip past their borders, gaining in size the stars take over the sky, in strength do they spread their light to all parts of the sky, so bright it blinds him; the night that turned into day.
He wakes up, realizing that he is staring at the sun, he lowers his eyes and lets the scene slowly develop, like a Polaroid picture the trees come into view, outlined by the majestic blue sky, white paint strokes of clouds hang lazily in their field of dreams. The grass is almost golden as the sun’s rays strike from their perch high in the heavens.
Without so much of a thought, he walks to the trees and enters his silent refuge that he will never awake from; he already is awake, and always will be.
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I stood quivering, blood dripping down the corners of my mouth, trying to get her screaming out of my head. We all were. The sound of sirens only dimly registered in my head. We looked at each other with a puzzled look, looked down at what was left of the body and without saying a word, parted ways.
I remember walking into the woods behind the building, eventually I started running, the trees flying by in a blur of motion, the static life, the serene facade shattered. It was the first time that I felt alive, I was truly and utterly in the moment; I was running from the cops goddamn it!
The woods kept getting thicker and thicker, I didn’t care, I just kept running. It’s odd, I never considered myself a runner, but here I was, didn’t feel tired, hell! I didn’t feel pain, I felt nothing, not a thing. I was on top of the world until I reached the field and saw the vultures circling.
Her blood dried from the wind, I kept thinking “her blood, oh god, what the fuck …” “Okay,” I told myself “no going back now, I’ve made my decision … FUCK!” It was all over my clothes, my mouth, my neck, and oh god, did it feel good. It was like a cold blanket, a serene reassurance of something prehistoric. Deep down, like a fire, or a river, I felt that there was something, awakened? drowned? It was primal, it was wrong and it went against everything I stood for, but damn did it feel good.
I wondered whether I had killed the only part of me left, or if I finally broke out of my cocoon. It was all so new back then, I had finally embraced the dark, the screaming, rotting, hellish dark that lived under the bed all those years, and I was still uncertain if this was the path I wanted to take.
Eventually I came across a road, a busy country road with forest one side and houses on the other. There were kids playing in a yard down the street, their screams seemed muffled and distant, and before I knew it the red and blue lights were on me. They came out of the cars with their guns drawn, shouting at me.
It must have been a sight to see, a deranged man with that primal look in his eye, sticks in his hair, covered in blood and sweat, scratched all over, standing next to the houses that they were sworn to protect.
At the trial, they kept asking me questions, but there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do. Maybe they saw it in my eyes, maybe they recognized me for what I was; an outsider.
The only thing I could think was “maybe I AM broken; maybe the blood shattered my sanity.” But then again, I felt fine, not a worry in the world, it was those around me that were worried, they were the broken ones.
So now I am in jail, waiting for my turn at death like a chump. But you know, I don’t regret a single thing, since that gruesome act of cannibalism I have lived my life. Sure I was technically free for only a few hours afterward, but I got to be a part of life, I learned what those zen scholars were really talking about. Sure, I got there in a fucked up twisted way, but I got there; the cycle completed.
“Well, we were sitting here, and all of the sudden he got really worked up, pacing around, muttering with his teeth clenched — I didn’t understand a word he was saying. Finally he bursts out in tears and runs out the door, and I haven’t seen or talked to him since.”
“And what exactly were you to doing when this happened?” Inspector asked.
“We were just sitting here, like I said, right here on the bed. We were having a bit of a conversation, and then he freaked out and stormed off.”
“Hmm, and what were you talking about?” Inspector continued.
“Nothing in particular. We both have finals coming up, so we’ve been kind of stressing about that, but then he just stormed off and I.. I didn’t know what to.”
“And did he seem.. different in any way?” Inspector pressed.
“Uhm, no not really.”
“Was he on any kind of medication, illegal or otherwise?” Inspector became suspicious.
“No, no definitely not. Look, he was a good kid, no one else really saw it, but I did. I was the only one helping him, when no one else would look twice at him.”
“Mhmm.. well, the reason I’m here is, a couple of days ago we found his body in the lake. Right now we are trying to keep it quiet, but we can’t keep it that way forever. Is there anything else you can remember from the last time you say him?” Inspector looked truly sorry.
There was a pause, heavy with purpose, I pretended to wondered what could have happened, why he would wind up died, face down in the lake. I stole a glance at the Inspector, he was watching me with his hawk-like eyes.
“Uhh, did he kill himself?” I managed.
“The investigation is still on going, but we haven’t ruled out suicide yet.” Inspector started to get emotional.
“Inspector, could you come back later?.. I.. need a moment.”
“Sure thing, take as much time as you need.” Inspector got up and left the room.
Oh fuck, I thought, they know… fingerprints… footprints… I could almost hear the Inspector’s gun rubbing against his thigh as he paced outside. I looked around the room, saw my window, opened it and ran. I ran like I didn’t have a choice, my lungs burning but I didn’t care. Maybe I could outrun my destiny.
“He stood up and started muttering, saying something like ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t, no, I mean I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.. please.. please forgive me’ and then he left, tears streaming down his face, and.., and I haven’t seen him for days.”
“And what exactly were you to doing when this happened?” Inspector asked.
“Well I was laying down on the bed and he was sitting beside me; we were talking. A pleasant conversation, if a little mundane. We’d just got back from lunch, and I was about to take a nap before studying and then.. he just up and stormed off.”
“Mhmm, and has anything traumatic happened to him in the last couple days? Can you think of anything that may have happened?” Inspector continued.
“No, nothing. I mean finals are coming up, but beyond that he’s been feeling pretty good. He doesn’t tell me much, but trust me, I can tell.”
“I see, and did he seem like he was different in any way, was he on drugs or had he been drinking?” Inspector pressed.
“No, not to my knowledge. Look he’s a good kid, he gets into his fair share of trouble, but he has a good heart. I know he does, even if no one…” I trailed off.
“Well, the reason I’m asking is because we found his body in the lake a couple of days ago. We’re trying to keep it quiet, but we can’t keep it that way forever, I just thought you should know first.” Inspector looked truly sorry.
There was a pause, heavy with purpose, sadness, I wondered what could have happened. Why was he still such a mystery after all these years? I knew he has tried before, but I never thought…
“Was.. it.. suicide?” I managed.
“We honestly don’t know yet; we are still investigating.” Inspector started to get emotional.
“Could you come back later?.. I’m not really in the mood to talk.”
“Sure thing, take as much time as you need.” Inspector got up and left the room.
Alone, the world cam crashing down on me. I could feel him there, just beyond the void that surrounds me. How? I loved him… How could he still be such a mystery? What do I have to do to get him back?
With the Inspector pacing outside my room, I opened the window and fled into the night. Maybe if I ran fast enough, I could get him back. Maybe if I run fast enough, I can get through this surrounding void.
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I set the paper down on the table to think, my head ringing from over-stimulation. The buzz of the air conditioner.. was it yesterday that it broke? I can’t remember. Maybe it was today. I can’t remember. I look back to the paper, but my head is too full, so I chug some water. My only saving grace, when I die, they will say “at least he drank water.” I need to get out of this place. I want to go camping, or maybe just curl up into a ball and die.
Okay, so tomorrow is the fifth, I know that much. But I can’t stop this ringing in my head. “Maybe,” I think out loud “I’ll go for a walk.”
Outside, tiny rain falls harshly, and I realize I’ve forgotten my umbrella. Great. My thoughts slip in and out, I wonder if this truly is the city that never sleeps. Maybe sometime in the future it will take a nap.
I pass by a small shop filled with bright fluorescent light and empty benches, the owner watches as I pass by. I feel his eyes track my progression across his field. I quicken my pace.
“Hey, what are you doing outside? Aren’t you going to melt?” her voice startled me.
“Oh, it’s you.”
“Well don’t be too excited to see me, you might have a heart attack.”
“I’m on a walk.”
“Yeah?”
“Listen, Carla, I’m kind of busy…”
“You always say that. When do you ever relax?”
“Hey, come one, I just need to finish this month.” We both knew it was a lie.
“Alright, well.. yeah so some friends are coming over to my place, I think you should join us.” She hadn’t planned on running into me, I could tell.
“Yeah I might go.” We both knew it was a lie. “Hey, I gotta get going, it was nice to see you!” We both knew it was a lie. All of it was a lie.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll see you later then..”
My head was still ringing. And the sun was setting, and I knew there was no where left to turn. I took the stairs up to my apartment; I heard it was better for you than the elevator. I collapsed on the couch, completely out of breath and slowly fell asleep
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“Excuse me. Sir? Excuse me, sir.” The waiter said tensely.
The man turned around and peer at the waiter through his thick glasses.
“Sir, you’re credit card.” He extended his hand with the card.
“Oh! Thank you very kindly. Don’t know what I’d do if I lost this. Thank you very much!”
The man reached into his pocket and handed the waiter a small figurine of a duck.
“Ohh.. thank you sir.”
With that the man left the restaurant, alone, and headed up the street towards the park, itself of no great size or stature. And the man feed the ducks in the little pond, took in the sights and finally settled on a bench over looking the length of the pond. He contemplated many things, but nothing important, before dozing off lightly in the light of the setting sun.
He dreamed of his children, playing in that very park, oh they were so young then he thinks to himself, sitting on the very same bench.
He awakes to find the park exactly as he left it, stands up and heads home. “Perhaps I shall tell my wife about this” he thinks aloud, still basking in the pleasant evening air. And so he passes the restaurant where he nearly lost his credit card, smiles at the waving waiter, and begins the long trek home.
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Part One
“Hey man.”
“Oh, hey Bill, what’s up?”
“I uhm.. I had a vision last night”
“Oh?” it was noncommittal.
“Mhmm, this is it. I’m sure.”
“Bill, we’ve been down this road, this isn’t…”
“No man, I’m sure this time, this is for real”
“Who are you trying to convince?”
“Fuck you, I’m certain. I just called ‘cause you won’t hear from me again.”
“….”
“No I mean it this time, I’m done with this place. It’s time for me to move on.”
“…”
“Hey, you there?”
“Yeah yeah, I’m here. I guess.. uhm.. well, good luck man.”
“Hey, it’s been a pleasure knowing you. I hope you finding what you’re looking for.”
“Yeah.”
“Ha, well I guess I’ll see you later on.”
“Listen man, don’t do this.”
“You’ve never understood, I need to do this.”
“I guess”
Bill hung up the phone and felt good for the first time in his life. He looked out the window and remembered his dream from the night before. He was in a rainforest, and it was a hot, muggy night. The air was drenched in mosquitoes and ineffable horror of lost screams and silent nights.
There was a voice behind him “Say Bill, how long’re you staying?”
He didn’t respond.
“Bill?”
Still he ignored the voice.
Soon the man walked away and he was left to his thoughts again.
The trees swayed and the lights from the compound were casting distorted shadows into the forest. The hair on his neck.. he sensed something approaching from the darkness, he was being hunted by the crushing weight of the forest and all its secrets.
The phone rang, he glanced at it and walked away, grabbed his bags and headed to the airport. He was headed to the desert, and he wasn’t going to return.
Part Two
Bill made it through security, browsed some of the shops and then sat down next to an elderly gentlemen near his gate. “Where’re you headed?” Bill asked politely.
“Oh hello, I’m uh headed to Indianapolis to visit some family. How ‘bout yourself?” the man responded.
“Hmmha, I’m going to the desert.”
“Is that so?” the man was intrigued.
“Yeah, I’m going far away from here, and I’m not coming back. I can’t imagine going back to my family.”
The man chuckled. “Ha, is that so… how come?”
“Eh, the time is right”
“Mmm, yes I suppose it is isn’t it.”
“Have you ever just known something, without a shadow of a doubt?”
“Ha, oh yes, plenty of times. But I was quite wrong every time.”
“I am not wrong. I am leaving.” And with that Bill got up and walked around the airport, his confidence shaken.
Source: brokenstride
