I am a malicious man, a horror to society. I am the shadow that crawls from out of the alleyway; I am the spittle that runs down the chin of fury. Why am I writing this when no one but myself will ever read these words? I do not know. Perhaps it is an exercise in exorcism. Perhaps it’s a confession to a deity that doesn’t exist? Whatever the reason, the story is simple, I took the heart of an Angel and sacrificed it to my personal demon for idle satisfaction.
When I was a younger man, naivety was my shield which protected me from scoundrels like myself. In those days, every person wore a halo of gold. Those days were sepia in tone. One day, I sat in a park to eat my lunch. The golden rays through the dancing leaves of the trees, under which I shaded myself from the glaring sun, conjured scenes of illusions before my eyes. I watched as a squirrel pranced through the spots of emerald green as it made haste to return itself to the sanctity of it’s den within the wise oak I assumed it lived with it’s family. More acorns for lunch today, kids!
On pondering the absurdity of a nuclear family of squirrels, he came to me. Not the cursed rodent, I mean him! My attention was hooked by a man in a long, scruffy woollen jacket and a tatty brown flat cap heading directly for me from across the park. His unwavering gaze was aiming straight at me, his eyes, narrow, penetrating me. I noticed his red stubble framed mouth was slanted in a cynical looking sneer. I had seen him around the town several times and in those days anyone, with whom I made eye contact, would receive an obligatory ‘Hello!’. He was no different, he accepted my greeting and sat right next to me. Damned naivety.
I am not going to tire you with detail, there is no point. After minimalist conversation, he suggested we have a smoke. A simple ‘No’ would have sufficed, but nothing is ever as simple because, like the book’s tale about the first woman, I was not delivered from temptation. Away we went. Conversation flowed into smoke; the sunbeams danced merrily before my eyes in ways my imagination could never have created. Life was heavy but my head was light. A routine had begun and the spiral of life started to incline towards the south of Heaven.
The midday sun grew weary and soon the leaves changed from lush green to dead orange as evenings drew in. The days started to cool, but the routine of the bench and his visits became frequent. Before long, powders were soon introduced, along with new, darker sensations. Suddenly, the nights became longer than ever and each passing second of darkness was experienced as a whole lifetime. Changes within myself took me to new buildings where artificial light replaced the sun, with colours dancing across the sky as tribal beats pounded shrill, harsh sounds into my ears. I was strung up and the master made his puppet dance to the enchanting music.
However, on one such evening, I was visited by an Angel. Powders were now pills and confidence was amongst their special powers. In her seduction, I became the master and she danced for me as I danced for he. The days were growing cold, but were replaced with slumber and shakes. Darkness was becoming the domain I inhabited and I made my new home with my Angel as I left my family behind; fleeing their cursing, accusing stares. But, she wasn’t the only occupant in my new life, because he would also be knocking at my door. When I invited him in, the pills returned to powders, but more toxic than before. The syringe drew my blood and, in the red afterglow, I was in heaven; in hell.
The Angel. Had she tried to save my soul? No. She didn’t know where I was, but she grew more conscious as I plundered my life to the cause. The dance was becoming tiresome and I needed new satisfaction. In the radiance of her love, I basked. In her presence I found warmth. I became as dependent on her as much as my sins. She became my white light, whilst I was her shadow. Closer we became in our hovel. Closer to the end, for on that fateful day or night (it was all the same to me), on the winter’s coldest day, I plucked the red apple from the tree; in my frustration; in retort at her motherly concern; in my spite. I gave her knowledge.
I am a cold-hearted beast, I am congealed blood in the aftermath of battle. A summer or winter may have passed, thrice times or more. Desperation led to the mistake. By this time, he had gone his separate way; his work done. Not that it mattered. His fawn were able to support themselves, but were clumsy and reckless. In the end, his son stole much, but lacked the cunning to hid his art, so he served some of his wretched life in confinement. As for his daughter, on her own in her miserable life; well, she fell. She fell away. From me, from everyone.
Six months was all it took before I caught up with the world. Puck’s potion may have been washed from my eyelids but, like the a*s, I had been deceived. Now my blood has been cleansed, I find myself alone in a much different world. My punishment will never cease, but I am grateful because my infernal torture is my cure for consciousness. Did I meet Satan? No, but what other name would you give something horrid when it appears in your very own soul? As for Him? His name was Derek. Derek pushed drugs in order to pay for his own habit. Do I blame him? No. I bear my own cross. No one prepares you for the sheer monotony of life. Fireworks do not go off everyday, unless you make them yourself.
It is summer again, but clouds hang heavy and grey these days. I no longer sit in the park. Instead, I sit at my window, afraid to go outside for fear. I fear the day and the night. I fear the colours of the sky. As I watch the rain streak down my windowpane I feel nothing but blackened inside. I touch my face and my cheeks are lopsided due to a cynical sneer which haunts my face. I watch the rain and feel water on my cheeks. These drops haven’t fallen from above. Something else did a long time ago.
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