Sixth Day

A Story by silent tempest

Ethan is a young music composer who hosts a birthday party at his apartement in the NYC. He meets his friends during the preparation and an intriguing female later that day.

My thanks go to all the amazing people I’ve met, and to all the great artists who inspired me.

And I thank you - the reader - that you have found the time, to read this short story of mine.

Prague, Czech Republic - March 2013

Chapter 1: Morning

The distant steel sound of a train broke the silence. The white fog got thinner, revealing lines of trees along the dirt road. Dry pieces of wood crunched, as they ran.
“Hurry, we must hurry!” someone shouted with fear.
“Where the f**k are we running?” a man asked, breathing heavily.
“Doesn’t matter,” a girls voice, “the train, we must catch the train. Before IT! hunts us down,” she said and glanced her back.
“It’s getting closer, we’re dead. We are all dead!” told a familiar voice of a man.
Suddenly the vision blurred, “I fell?” Ethan thought. Something grabbed his leg, he felt pain.
“You’re not hurting my friend, you b*****d!” the familiar guy said and stood before Ethan, it was Michael.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy? Run! Run away!” Ethan yelled at him, but it was too late.
Michael turned his face towards him, his glasses flickered. He tried to smile, but it was a fake smile. Then a huge spear like arm ripped through his chest, bursting blood and guts all over Ethan.
“I’m sorry,” Michael said falling onto his knees. Everything went black. The horn of the train sounded again, but this time it was getting louder and louder, changing into a sound of something else.

Ethan was awakened by the roaring machines of a nearby building site. Sun was about to rise and the grey clouds were pouring rain. “Another nightmare? And why Mitch? Why was it him, who had to die?” Ethan questioned his dream. He left the warm bed and moved onto the balcony. The air smelled of dust and rain. It was 44 Fahrenheit as his thermometer showed, but Ethan felt like his body was freezing, yet the chill helped him to get over his morning headache. He took a deep breath and looked at the reflection of streetlights in the windows across the street, then up the sky. "Nothing to see, machines keep working and cars spinning, just a bunch of noise and gleaming concrete. I love New York." he decided.

When he couldn’t stand the cold anymore, he stepped back into the bedroom, leaving the French door ajar. He walked trough the doors to the huge room. It consisted of living room, kitchen and somewhat entering hall. The wall with two arched windows was redbrick, the others were white. Ethan passed the black Mason and Hamlin piano, positioned right of the door and pressed the highest key. A short melody played in his head, but he forgot it before he could realize its existence. There was a bookcase in the middle of the windows, but the blinds were shut and the room needed light.

Ethan didn’t mind, he " rubbing his face - crossed the wooden floor and went around the messy kitchen counter, hitting his toe over one of the bar stools. He cursed the damn chair and opened the steel door of fridge. “Hmm, sweet or sour?” he wondered of his breakfast sarcastically, knowing he had no choice, “Raspberry jam and toast it is.” He boiled water for coffee and toasted the two remaining pieces of bread he had left. An idea of milk and cereal flashed his mind, but lactose intolerant people can’t allow themselves dairy products on such important days as this day was meant to be. Besides, he had none of these.

There was only a half of a toast left on the plate, when the doorbell rang. “Who could it be? I don’t even know what time it is.” Ethan was still sleepy and the darkness of the room didn’t help to wake him. Limpidly approaching the door, he opened it, wearing just white pajama shorts with blue stripes. The hall light blinded him, but he soon realized who it was. A tall black man stood in front of his door, wearing dark grey suit, white to beige shirt with a purple tie and shiny black shoes. “Hey Sam,” Ethan said and noticed how dry his throat was.

“Sorry man, did I wake you?” Sam asked with his deep voice worried a little and seemed to be in a hurry.
“No, well kinda, but it’s ok, what do you need?”
“Funny thing happened to me. You know I have this important court today? Anyway I slammed the door behind me, forgot the keys inside. Could you open them with your spare, please?”
“Yeah sure, just let me get them.” Ethan took them from a bowl which was on a shelf next to the door and took his just in case.

He helped Sam find the keys and accompanied him to the lift.
“Good luck at the court.”
“Thanks,” Sam said adjusting his tie.
”Will you be at the party later today?” Ethan asked.
“Oh man, I almost forgot. It’s your birthday. Well happy b-day Ethan, how old are you? 24?” Sam said excited and kissed Ethan’s left cheek.
“Damn Sam, how many times am I to remind you, that I’m not gay?” Ethan said laughing and wiping his cheek.
“I know you liked it.” Sam replied smiling too, when the lift door slid opened. “Sooner or later, I’ll break you.” He went inside and pressed the ground floor button. “And you know the saying. Once you go black,” he said right before the door closed.
“There’s no way back,” Ethan said for himself, smiled and turned around.

Ethan returned inside and finished his meal. When he drank the last sip of the coffee, he was already quite awake and wasn’t very fond of the dark anymore, so he opened the blinds. A stream of blue shaded light broke through the glass and filled the room. “What a mess,” Ethan thought after he glanced the room. It wasn’t so much the living room as it was rather the kitchen where most of the junk found shelter. “I can’t do the cleaning without some music though.” The main chaos was on the kitchen counter and Ethan just made it worse by adding the plate and cup to the overflowing horde of dishes. “I’ll need to start with these, but now for the music.”

Ethan was excited. He was going to hear music again, after a week of musical silence. The last eight days were spent in an attempt to make music. An advertising company hired Ethan, to compose a jingle, but it felt to him, like it was his first run for a soundtrack. The ad wasn’t shot yet, but the product was a male fragrance. Both Ethan and the older woman, who he had met with, in order to get the job, have agreed that the music should be mysterious, with strings, piano and maybe a bit of saxophone to add a jazzy feeling. And Ethan wanted to make something unique, so he didn’t listen to any music, to avoid unrequested influence, and even though it were just a few days, instead of whole months - like some artists do " he might have made something good. Nevertheless, at no time was he satisfied with his work. He began with something, but always delved into something else, abandoning what he did, pursuing something different and in the end comparing those two, just to find out that he likes neither. Ethan spent a whole week of his life on it, but there was no unified outcome. Now he aimed to the wall, which was lit the most.

Numerous packs and boxes from various fast foods took place on the coffee table, positioned between the dark blue cotton couch, and the wall mounted 50” edgeless LED TV, guarded by two towers, a pair of top-notch speakers. There was a TV stand under the screen, more stuff on it. Inside the stand were stored the Xbox, few vinyl discs bend over a modern gramophone, a CD player and a Yamaha receiver. Above the screen protruded a black shelf, full of CD’s and DVD’s. Ethan went CD by CD, deciding what he’d like to play. It didn’t take long and he found an album, perfectly matching his mood and the atmosphere this cold, rainy morning offered, “Massive Attack " Mezzanine.”

Ethan smiled and put the CD back. Then he made two steps to the right and picked up a box which was standing next to a guitar amp above which was a Gibson electric guitar. He sat onto one of the armchairs, which were opposing each other across the coffee table, and began the search for Mezzanine’s vinyl. Browsing trough, he got few ideas of what he might play at the party, but now he focused onto the gramophone. Carefully placing the big disc in it, even more, placing the needle on it, as it was already spinning. A slight crackling appeared at first, but then he heard the bass of the song “Angel”. As it was slowly gaining on strength, he felt it vibrating trough him, then followed by chilled drum pattern and ambient guitar sounds the song began to ease his mind. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” Ethan said to himself and moved to the kitchen, his fight with the dishes began.

Accompanied by the breath taking sounds and lyrics, it didn’t take long to clean the place. It was done in less than hour. The problem now was his smell. He washed his face while he was working, but he really needed a shower. Before he went to the bathroom, he stopped to water the flowers. As he did, he looked outside the window. For a brisk moment, the clouds broke and let the sun trough, the rays warmly touched his face and colored the street in mead yellow, but it was just a split second, before the world fell to the bluish grey as it was before. Almost at the same time, the music stopped. It was already the second vinyl of the album and there were only two songs left on this disc’s other side. He turned it and played. Gone through the bathroom door - which was on the same side of the room as the bedroom’s door - he appeared in a small room with white and blue tiled walls. The first thing he did was to use the toilet.

He rose, flushed, and moved in front of the washbasin placed next to the toilet. While he was washing his hands, he looked at the picture of his face in the mirror. Ethan’s head was oval and covered with short thick black hair. His strong eyebrows were peacefully laid above his dark brown eyes. The skin was pale, but his acne was getting better. He had a not so big nose and thin pink lips followed by a sharp chin. Weariness in his face struck him. It wasn’t from the physical effort, but from the long week through which he had just a few hour sleeps. The bath joint with shower was opposing the door and next to it were a washing machine and a cabinet, both white. Ethan knew he’d gone out of his favorite shower gel, but he had one inside the cabinet. “Hmm, Wild Forest,” he read on the plastic box and wondered of how he’s going to smell after the shower.

He was one foot inside the bath, when he decided that he’ll shave first. “This way I’ll have no problems with the foam that remains after shaving.” When he finally got inside the shower and slid close the plastic-glass door, he turned the tap and let the warm water cover his head and face. He immediately began to fondle-wash his body and enjoyed it. He used the shampoo to wash his hair three times, before he felt like clean. Then he applied the soap, which did actually smell like a wild forest. While he was washing his body, he imagined that he’s standing in a shallow lake, a river, the shower head was a waterfall, he heard the exotic birds and sounds, and it felt like he was in a jungle after all. The time it took him to shower was similar to the time he spent cleaning, but to Ethan, it felt different. Cleaning was quick, full of doing. Now, he chilled in the atmosphere of the ancient and sacred forest’s pond.

Chapter 2: No eggs?

Ethan was in the bedroom. He opened the huge closet, taking the entire wall, opposite to the French door, that he had to close, because the temperature in the room was too low " although he liked the fresh air, the scent of his sparkling clean body and the new white sheets he put the bed in " and began to pick his clothes.