What follows is just an idea that I got on the spur of the moment. It may suck, it may not. I dunno, but it’s just a peice of a story that cajme to me fairly whole and fully formed in and of itself. If you like it let me know, if you don’t, let me know. Anyways, enough of a preamble. Enjoy!
S
Begin.
Looking through the crack between the door and the jamb, I could see that there wasn’t anyone out in the hallway. I’d been sure to leave the chain on the door just in case, but you can never be too sure. I twisted the knob back to the right and silently shut the door again, throwing the well-oiled bolt into place, turning the thumb latch with an almost silent snick. I was alert, listening for any sound, the sound of feet on the cheap, threadbare padding of the carpet in the hallway, an odd echo as the ice machine dumped its load of glistening cubes, an almost silent indrawn breath of someone lurking in the shadows. I heard nothing.
Turning back to the room, the objects on the bed catching my peripheral vision again. I didn’t want to think about those things right now. Those were for later. Maybe later. Probably. Instead moving through the darkness to the window, clouded over with the years, cleaned only sporadically and carelessly, I looked out over the city. Out there in the night I could see the lights gleaming through the thin dust and oil coating the window like cheap jewels nestled in a dead whore’s bossom. It was all so pathetic. Standing there, naked against the night, the chill air of the room puckering my flesh and causing goosebumps as I stared out into that night slashed by the lights of the minimarkets and the cheap pawn shops, their glow alien and rugose in the night. I took another drag from the cigarette burning between my fingers and ashed onto the carpet. Nervous tick so she’d said, I can hear you doing that from a thousand miles away. The thought of her brought an empty smile to my face, more a grimace in the dark than a smile with any heart behind it. She was long gone. Decided to pack her bags and jam, what? Three years ago? Four? It didn’t matter anymore now. Now I was here, I was in this room, where I was supposed to be, looking out on the dead whore of the night and thinking my long slow thoughts as I willfully ignored those things laying on the bed.
Maybe it was for the best. She was too good for me anyways, that light that shone in her eyes when she looked at me, I tell you, it made me feel like I would burn up in the sunshine of her gaze. I was different then, but weren’t we all? Yeah, she was better off without me, and I knew it. No matter what that old heart of mine said, she was somewhere safe, laughing and smiling that million degree smile of hers and not thinking about me as I stood here, naked in the night, and she was better off without me.
I could feel the heat, the ember of the cigarette was closing down on the filter. I butted it in an overflowing ashtray and lit another from the mangled pack on the bedstand, conspicuously not looking at the paper bag that lay on its side with that dark thing peering up at me from within like the dead eye of a forgotten god. I turned back to the window, swiping my hand through the dust and grime there so I could see the night a little better. Once, a long time ago, there was a little boy who would never have believed that there could be so much city, so many people, so much to see, so much to do, all crammed in one place. Now that little boy with the wide eyes was this tired man staring out into the city with a careless gaze, unaware of the forlorn look on his face or the tears cutting tracks through the three day stubble on his cheeks. That little boy was long dead and instead, the empy gaze of the man is all that can stand for the bright wide-eyed stare of the little boy. I can’t tell anymore where that boy went, what he did, and why he became me. No, all I can do is stare out at the night, trying to feel one more time, trying to be that litle boy again and failing.
Sirens cutting through the night brought me out of my reverie. The strobing lights splashing against cold brick and mortar a few streets over as life continued to flow and pump out in the city. Even this was not enough to stir my curiosity. Too many things seen in the past, too many things done, I was deadened to the spectacle anymore. In a city like this, you were blind, deaf and dumb when it comes to the flashing lights and the sounds of sirens. You couldn’t think about the monsters you sidled up next to every day to live with or it’d drive you crazy. Just look at me. Sometimes the monsters we fear end up being the monsters within, but…no. I’m not going to think about that right now. That’s all under control and it’ll be over soon anyways. Another drag on the cigarette and the harsh cough as the stale smoke burned into my lungs, triggering synapses in my brain to speed up, transferring information faster and faster, speeding up the flow of the pulses, making me smarter even as it’s killing me.
The exhaled smoke against the window pane curled back into the room, collecting into a fug of the stuff at the ceiling, adding to what was already there. My silence hadn’t intimidated the things on the bed. They still stared at me blindly, waiting for me to decide to use them. That tonight would be the night. They watched as I came to terms with who I was, who I am, and what I will never be. They were in no hurry, they would wait for me, old friends cold and brutal in their regard, and they would embrace me when I was ready for it. Until then, they were content to sit and wait, watching my back for me. The sounds of the night bleeding through the window to me as I stood there were the same as they had been for ages, just made by different mechanism. I finally butted out my smoke watching my breath continue to curl up and outwards, heedless of the blistering cold in the room. Hands on hips, I stood there, considering my options. My option. There really was only one option anymore. And that’s okay. Looking out over the night, I whispered a name in the darkness. A name that I hadn’t spoken in four years, and then a prayer…a prayer to forgive me. Maybe one day she will. Maybe one day she’ll understand. And when she does, she’ll realize, yeah, she’s much better off without me.
This ends up being the point where I do most of my rambling. Sometimes it's good, most times it's not. As far as I go, I'm a 30-something husband, father, friend, geek...everything else you want to know about me and everything else you don't is contained right here in these pages.
~Swift