P R O L O G U E: OF OZZIE AND FRANCIS

October 30, 2015

Sometimes, in those rare moments of silence, the moments where Ozzie feels truly alone�"no sound beyond his breathing, no sight save for the thick inky blackness of night, no warmth within his body but his own heart stubbornly pump, pump, pumping blood�"it feels like life is this grand, nebulous, all-consuming thing. It strikes him randomly, the vastness of it, the mystery and Ozzie's little stubborn heart starts pump, pump, pumping faster and his pits start sweating and his hands start shaking and that really gross fluttering anxious feeling in the bowels of his stomach starts churning and�"

(observe�")

Ozzie runs. Ozzie runs because he's a coward. He runs because he's afraid. He runs because he's only human. He runs because to be human is to be a liar. He runs because to be human is to be a beast. To be a monster. He runs because he didn't�"doesn't�"can't�"I think therefore I�"

(am observing. see how they look at me. feel how their eyes rake down my body. taste their desire on my tongue. grasp at it like straws between my fingers. hear their breathing against my ear. smell the sweat beneath their cologne. beneath their perfume. because im just that good. see me how they see me. i look good. i always look good. when i try. when i want it. i look dangerous. sensual. otherworldly. sinuous and nothing like you really do. that's the joy of it. that's the freedom�")

Confucius once said "Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated." And that's true. Life, if humans would get out of their own way, really is simple. It's instinct and impulse on the most primal level. The urge to eat, to sleep, to drink, to f**k, to seek socialization and love�"meaning in an otherwise meaningless existence; that is all there is to strive for. Yet it's within that struggle for definition that the meaning becomes meaningless simply because when all is said and done humanity is horribly, horribly alone�"

(you run he runs she runs ze xe they run everyone runs because everyone is afraid�")

Loneliness is weakness. Loneliness is vulnerability. Loneliness leaves the human psyche cold and open�"susceptible to persuasion and tampering. Loneliness is the child of desperation and the cousin to acceptance. Loneliness is blind. Loneliness is the life spent hiding�"

(observe distract regret abort. one of these does not belong. it cant belong. for it to do so would be to admit your own cowardice. to do so would be to awaken. you cant wake up. to awaken would be defeat. to wake up would mean an end to joy. to the unrivaled power and control you have over everything. ozzie must be left behind. ozzie symbolizes everything you arent. ozzie is and therefore you are�")

Not, Ozzie thinks, going to wax poetically about Confucius. Nor is he going to fill himself with unnecessary angst fueled by his philosophical musings. Regret. Hmm...

Ozzie knows he shouldn't have run away in the first place�"

(cowardice�")

He knows that. He understands, objectively, that his disappearance has caused no small amount of distress among the people he cares about. He knows this abstractly, subconsciously, like he knows there are three blondes standing by the punch bowl and a group of young adults smoking weed on the balcony across from him�"

(observe�")

He knows this like he knows the people here watch him expecting a show, aching for it with an almost obsessive singularity, because that's what he wants them to want; it's what he wants them to need�"he has a reputation. It's a fact tucked away in the back of his mind, stored away for miscellaneous use�"

(listen to the whispers. feel the heat. the attention. pleasurepain. fog shrouding the ground in fine mist. silhouettes flashing with neon patterns. music with more bass than you would usually tolerate. who are you whoare youwho are�")

Conclusion can be drawn from fact but conclusion can also be drawn from feeling. From that same base instinct where the paradoxical simplicity of life gives way to its complexity�"

(observe. movement without fear. i have no need for it. its an inconsequential hindrance to the human spirit. i let it go. i will stalk the earth like the predator i am. see how the gold in my eyes glows. it seems raw. it seems hungry. carpe diem b*****s�")

His mind's a blur. He's floating, flying, soaring away and all that grounds him to the Earth is his body alight with unparalleled sensation. Frustration. Greed. He goes with it. Focuses on that. On feeling. He draws his fingers across the clothed skin in front of him, hooks an arm against the neck of the body behind him. People want a show? A smirk graces his lips and it's anything but innocent. He sways. He moves. He's euphoric. He's alive. He's free. He's�"

(who am i who am i who am i who am�")

(what do you call yourself�")

(i have no name�")

(do you need one�")

(society would like that i do. its a pain i know�")

(then you will have a name�")

(i dub thee�")

(francis�")

(hot. you want an autograph to go with that beautiful�")

What does it say about a person that so desperately craves...ignorance that they find it in the skin of others? Is that wrong? Who defines that? Humanity of course and humanity is fraught with liars. Humanity is a beast left untamed. Who has the right to tame it? The individual? The mass? The group? Freedom is found within the compulsion of choice�"the right to choose�"

(the framework of your mind is muddled. its a murky pool of confusion and loss. that is the role of francis. leave the trembling shell of your psyche behind. leave it and let him guide you out of your anxious raving unstable adolescent spirit. be what you are not. in the discovery of someone else find yourself. only then will you find peace�")

(yeah give it up hot stuff�")

(relinquish your control�")

(only we�")

(only me�")

Ozzie sighs and tilts his head back. He lets go. Steps back from that place in his mind that makes him Ozzie and�"

Francis makes it...more. Francis is the one that moves their hands like a tease, raises an eyebrow like a challenge to anyone who catches his--their eye. It's Francis that cares about EDM and make-up and ridiculously garish and impractical fur coats. Francis adds a sway to their hips that's downright obscene with the way it draws attention to their tightly leather clad a*s and Ozzie feels�"Francis feels�"They feel�"What exactly?

The smile on his lips feels real�"

The pounding in his chest feels real�"

The wild energy urging him farther better faster stronger feels real�"

(you are almost there you are almost free take that final step take that breath and�")

A hand on their shoulder. "Ozzie."

Ozzie freezes, lurching backwards in his mind, one hand on the wheel the other out the metaphorical door�"

(abort abort abort--)

(stand aside)

Francis is not Ozzie. Francis is his own person and he is not afraid. He turns, drags their eyes obviously over the man (young adult, post adolescent) in front of them. His hair is black like Francis' but curly instead of straight and not streaked with flamboyant neon highlights like their own. Ozzie knows this man�"

(boy ozzie whispers with the sort of fond exasperation that's coupled with familiarity�")

But Francis, Francis does not. Or he isn't supposed to, so he raises an eyebrow and he can see the moment the young man registers the subtle differences that make him Francis and not Ozzie�" Nothing overt. At the end of the day their body is the same, yet the eyes, the curve of their lips. That is different. Radically different�"

(James the tiny part of him that's still Ozzie huddles terrified and young mumbles and--)

Memories. Details. Sensations. Words like "best-friend" and "family". Pale skin he (Francis�"Ozzie�"no Francis) knows will bruise with even the lightest touch. A grip just that much too hard. Teeth against an ivory neck. The contrast of warm olive skin against skin as white as snow. Warmth. The smell of weed and heat and browning leaves--

(Shut up--)

Francis winces and closes his eyes, the overly saccharine smile on his lips twisting into a grimace.

"Ozzie�"" James says again, his hands (familiar comforting home�") resting firmly on Francis' shoulders, "Where've you been? Toni�"I've�"we've all been worried about you, ever since you uh," James rubs the back of his neck looking uncomfortable and worried at the same time, "ran off."

(im sorry i didnt mean to it was too much is too much i cant im sorry im sorry im sorry i�")

Ozzie opens his mouth and Francis snaps it shut before anything embarrassingly sentimental and horribly out of character can come out. Francis coughs; feigning confusion, he says. "Sorry to disappoint handsome," he makes his smirk lascivious, and his voice is lightly accented with something bordering on French. "but I'm not your guy. Really is a shame though, you're cute."

James blinks. Squints his eyes. Blinks again. Backs up a step and good, this is what he wanted, what he needed. He needs James to back off, to back off before�"

"Bullshit."

Francis' smirk drops. He opens his mouth to snap something else back, white fur coat hanging around his shoulders. He doesn't care who this boy is to Ozzie, he's nothing to him. Francis is courage personified to the point of stupidity. No demon, no Cambi, no Fallen would force him back so why would this boy�"

(a mantra of James James James in the back of my mind it pounds like a drum and I cringe I need I need I need�")

Francis gasps. Stumbles forward as a searing pain ratchets through his skull. It feels like his mind is breaking, splitting, melting into two. Into three. Because he can feel that other, that voice guiding Francis to the surface and Ozzie to the depths and it's desperate.

(observe)

He feels it. He feels it clinging to the edges of both their psyches--

(james--)

(no let it go--)

(shut the f**k up--)

(james--)

and he knows what's going to happen even before he slips to the ground.

(remember)

He knows what's going to happen when he sees the worried faces in front of him. He knows when he hears the music stop and the lights turn on and all he can hear is a distant ringing. His screaming. He knows...

(sleep)

(f**k you ozzie)

And Francis does.

Everything goes black. His body falling limp into James' steadying grip. But he'll be back.

He always comes back.

Author's Note

Let me know what you think

Reviews

[C. Rose]

Fantastic job delving into these characters. It would help readability if you use a location (personally I imagine this happening on an old couch in a rundown treehouse or a basement) then every other paragraph have the character interact with the location by shifting on the couch or kicking trash out of the way. Again, great job with the character's complex feelings and thoughts.

[Tsukin Archangel]

thank you! Yeah, I'll take that into consideration. I'd purposely left the location a little ambigious for the sole reason all of the action is internal. I don't really feel like where it's taking place is as important as what's happening inside. But again I will consider adding some more defining bits to it if it doesn't disrupt the flow too terribly. The way it's currently set up is a sort of pseudo stream of consciousness in which the main narrator Ozzie is undergoing his character study while dealing with Francis and the Director respectively.

[C. Rose]

Ah, so James is the Director, Francis is the Character, and Ozzie is the Actor?

In the following example, is it a thought-dialogue between Ozzie and Francis? If so, thought-dialogue tags would help me follow it.

"He feels it. He feels it clinging to the edges of both their psyches--

(james--)

(no let it go--)

(shut the f**k up--)

(james--)

and he knows what's going to happen even before he slips to the ground.

(remember)"