VI. The City

On pure instinct I followed street signs and made it to a row of what looked like just rooms. As I was walking my necklace flared and one opened to reveal four grey walls and a small grey bed.

 

“I guess this is home” I said to myself as I curled up in the blankets, the door slowly closing and enveloping me in darkness. It was some kind of comforting darkness, if only for the fact that maybe now I would get some peace. There’s a reason why everyone wants to go back to bed when they’re upset.

 

Before I fell asleep I noticed a small glow in the dark star on the roof, shining so dimly I could barely see it. 

 

When I slept… I dreamt.

 

***

 

I ran to the devil, he was waiting. He passed me a rose and held me, spinning me and dancing to some form of hypnosis. In his eyes, in the pitch black of his eyes, I saw a white light that danced and sparkled. He smiled at me and I held him back. ‘Poor Lucifer,’ I thought, ‘you aren’t that bad.’

 

***

 

When I had woken my mind was buzzing some form of consistent white noise. I felt frail, egged on only by an adrenalin I couldn’t find the origins of. I could hear ticking… at which point I realised I had not as of yet opened my eyelids. I strained them apart, only to find myself in a room of people all talking, but none of which were making any noise. I was left only with the ticking sound. Harsh but melodic.

 

The fluorescent lighting hung from the ceiling like claustrophobic bats. It was increasingly hard to bare.

 

The ticking, clicking, hypnotic noise turned out to be heels. A woman with black hair and a short skirt entered. She looked harsh in all respects. The suit jacket she wore hid her slender frame, her fringe fell neatly over her eyes and she wore a name tag with the words “Queen of Conspiracy.” Everyone in the room stopped talking. I just wondered why no one in this place ever showed their eyes.

 

“Close your eyes, your hands, your nerves but you will not close your ears and you will listen,” said the Queen as she reapplied her lip balm under her fluorescent lights. “Here all the water is bottled, all the pages are stapled and all the whiteboards reflect in such a way that alludes to God.” She paused and smirked. “But there is no God here.”

 

She walked to the front of the room. I stood and walked away. Though I couldn’t find a single reason to stay, guilt washed over me, as if I was deserting this place, these people I didn’t know. Everyone I passed I thought was looking at me and assuming everything. I knew I was feeling paranoid, but I couldn’t stop it.. I was getting progressively stranger, sadder, angrier and most importantly, more detached… and ultimately, alone.

 

I found a dark room to hide in and stood there. I sat down and in that darkness I let my emotions grow and evolve, I let them change me. Someone hit the lights. I was confronted by a mirror and I put my hands to my face, watching quicksilver seep from the gaps between my fingers and coat my skin in patterns and swirls. It swallowed up my pendant and left the swirling white stone embedded near my neck. The hot metal coated my skin leaving my mouth and my eyes so I could just faintly remember who I was meant to be. My mask.

 

***

 

I found my way to another dark room, this time completely black. I felt the metallic shine of my now cold mask and it filled me with confidence. I was aware that this was not a good thing, but I was also aware that my doubt was drifting away from me. I was allowing myself this night. I refused to feel guilt.

 

I was shoved onto stage by some unknown hands and I was dancing. My hair was flicking everywhere and my hips felt disjointed, yet still I danced. I pushed myself near a freak in a mask and then near a couple that were knotted together. I saw a girl with black hair straight to her feet and I saw a boy with ropes tied all over him, and dynamite under his hat. I was showboating and I knew it. If I saw a pair of eyes that weren’t on me than I would go and move them.

 

Some vague voice in the back of my mind said “Stop. Remember yourself. Sit in the corner and bop to the music quietly. This isn’t you.” It wasn’t loud enough to distract me, so I danced. Oh I danced – But I was afraid.

 

At some point I felt someone touch me and I hit them, but the hands that were reaching were too many to hit away, and some would keep their hands long enough to burn. It was like playing whack-a-mole and betting your piece of mind.

 

I got angry, but I still danced. I moved and grabbed a bottle and smashed it, and the acid trip crowd stopped and stared as my painted face ran down my neck. The shards of glass falling was the only sound, with the exception of my maniacal laughter.

 

***

 

As I lay on the ground, the woman I had first met appeared beside me. Her long red hair and kind smile was replaced by a strange charcoal mess. She was smiling at me, but it was bitter-sweet and almost cruel. She took hold of me and through the tangle of her body I saw a blue heart, weeping whiteness.

 

“It’s okay to cry sweetheart” she said softly, expectantly.

Despite the desire to flinch away I held her back and sobbed. All my anger melted to sadness and I hoped the heart would shine through. Regardless, the black lines smudged against my skin, creating a shell around my body. Eventually I couldn’t stand it and stood, facing the theatre’s back wall.

 

“Tell me what’s wrong” she commanded and after a long pause, in which all I could think was how I could not leave without some kind of consequence, I began to speak.

 

“Its hard when no matter how hard you beat the brick wall, it wont fall.

When all you can do is tell yourself it’s not real, but still your knuckles bleed,” I heard myself saying. I said it quietly and slow, resigned.

“I feel like a child that doesn’t want to grow up, but my inner adult is scaring me into submission. I hate whatever part of my brain is responsible for the reality checks. I hate whatever part of my mind is afraid of change. I hate.. I hate this hatred. I want to freefall without being rebellious and stupid, with no yelling and no forcing. I… I just want to fall without hitting things on the way.”

 

I leaned against the wall, pulling my sleeves over my hands so I couldn’t see them shaking. She put her hand on my back, and started saying something, but it faded into oblivion. A comforting speech she was telling to remind herself I was letting her in. A sick and twisted game of love.

 

I felt abused and defeated, but I didn’t want to hurt her, so I did not move.

I let my mind wander away from her voice and thought to myself about this place, and this falseness.

 

I heard rain outside, I could smell the earth. I turned to the wall and beat against it one last time… The brickwork cracked, and eventually crumbled. I gripped the silver that had become my decorated mask and ripped it away from my face.

 

Reviews

love love love it lol ^^
i really dont understand why you dont have more faith in your work.. this is brilliant ^^

[richard hurndall]

Ok, I 'm going to stop at that. Freakin' me out now...

Any story that namechecks Douglas Adams and Bowie and Lennon gets a review.

This is brilliant stream-of-consciousness stuff. A sign of a good story is when I've reached five chapters, nothing's really happened yet, but I'm still transfixed. On one level it could be read as a spacey adult journey(with drug and music references). But I think this works even better as a fantastic children's tale- it has that alice in wonderland edge to it, and totally non-patronising. And cats laughing in a train.

Good luck with wherever you take this. PS Safeways is dead. It's an ex-supermarket, it has ceased to exist.