miei 美影

A quick foreword:

I wrote this with someone in mind. With everything that is important to me, I put it into this. I think it becomes quite apparent. I don’t think I could complete it if it weren’t said someone, but nonetheless I’ve captured my feelings in a moment in time. This is version of me, at this moment in time, is forever yours.

There are some heavy topics, so be wary of proceeding.

Monochrome Rainbow

Every time I see a rainbow, I can’t help but think to myself– what do the colorblind think of the rainbow? I think that’s a really strange thing to think about, admittedly. The way I see it, the rainbow that is– I can see that it goes from red, to orange, to yellow, to green, to blue, to indigo, to violet. I just can’t see the color. I can’t interpret it, in anything other than that they’re just colors. The supposed beauty of it is lost on me. So is that how the colorblind interpret it? Can they even see it at all? Does it blend with the sky, washed out by everything else that’s more important? Does it look cloudy all the time with color blindness?

It rained last night. The smell of wet slate gray concrete fills the air as I walk down the street. The sounds of wet tires rolling down the street are almost drowned out by the birds singing. It’s cold. I need a jacket to be out, but the sun is out. Hopefully graphite isn’t too drab of a color. The sunshine reflecting in the wet asphalt, every few moments the reflection is obscured by the passing of cars. There’s almost no one out today, but I suppose this cold would be too much if you were born here. I’m from a place where this weather is common, sometimes even colder. Sometimes when the breeze is this freezing, walking into the sunlight warms you up a little so you can physically and mentally prepare before having to walk back into and through the shade. Other times, the sunlight doesn’t really do much. It’s almost as if the sun is apathetic to the very specific plight of my cold distress.

Today just happens to be one of those days of uncaring for our dear sun. Maybe it hasn’t woken up completely yet? I would prefer if you showed up late, just this once. The reminder of your apathy only makes my own painfully apparent. I would like to avoid thinking about it if I could, because whenever I’m reminded of this it feels like a black hole where my heart should be– like a void desperately trying to fill itself with something, anything to get rid of the overwhelming emptiness. So, oh great sun, I beg of thee to show up late when you know that this is how you’re going to show up to work. The intensity of your absolute indifference is too much for some of us mere mortals, I would just like to get where I’m going without much emotional distress… I suppose it could be worse, though. I could be a schizophrenic cannibal who believes other-dimensional demon clowns run a secret society that controls the government and that my consciousness came from the future in a weird microwave experiment that went seriously wrong–

“…x…se …e…”

Did someone just say something?

“Excuse me young man!”

“Ah! Yes?! Sorry, I was lost in thought, ha ha.” It seems like someone did, in fact, say something. I really hope this old lady doesn’t make me late.

“I’m really sorry, sweetie, but could you help me carry this bag? It’s awfully heavy–” A large, gray duffel bag… at the top of the steps that lead into a small concrete porch. I suppose it doesn’t look that heavy, but I really can’t be late. “Sorry, ma’am, I’m late already–”

“Oh it’s just that I really can’t lift it on account of my bad wrists. It’s far too heavy for me.” It can’t be helped. I really can’t be late this time. “I really can’t. I’m late to meet someone–”

“I’ve just got no one else right now–” This seriously cannot be happening. If I’m late again, I’ll definitely get put down like a dog in the street and turned into something that can be described as “more useful,” whatever form that takes. “My grandson is in the hospital right now and my husband is– it’s just me.”

Ah– she looks really sad and she’s probably lying but– “Of course I’ll get it for you, where do you want it?” Her face lit right up and popped a smile from ear to ear, “Oh thank you, sweetie, really so much!! Right here in the trunk of my car!” I don’t think there’d be that much wrath if I’m late because I was helping someone.

Her huge smile and little jog to the trunk of her car was cute, but an old car made of metal that isn’t aluminum. This thing was old by the time I was born. Well, time to go up and get her bag, I’m really going to have to apologize profusely when I get there. I hope she didn’t think that involuntary sigh I did when I smiled was anything bad. It’s so cold. My hands feel like giant frozen sausages attached to balled up ground beef with toothpicks as what’s holding the joints together. The handles of the bag immediately feel like snakes that have been frozen over.

This bag is heavier than it looks. What the hell is in this thing?! Feels like I’m carrying a body. I shudder to think what’s actually in this thing, though. This thing is so heavy I have no choice but to very slowly go down those wet concrete steps. The walk from the bottom of those steps to the car genuinely felt like it took thirty minutes. I think I even saw the car sink a little after I managed to get the bag into the trunk. “There you are, ma’am. You weren’t kidding, it was a little heavy.”

Out of all the colors, gray seems to be the heaviest. It drags everything down, as if it were made of the stone it looks like. Dragging the monochrome around becomes added weight over time. I can get around just fine, after time everything just blends together. Going through the motions, there’s nothing in my heart. I feel fine, everything is just kind of heavy. The colors blended together the way they are to make the gray adds weight to my chest that makes it harder to move freely. It almost feels like trying to swim with cinder blocks for shoes. If you move, you drown. If you stay still, you sink to the bottom. Each decision is the incorrect one, so I move on and hold my breath; hoping for something, anyone, to pull me out–

“Thank you so much, sweetie. Here, take this.” A lollipop. How fitting. I’ll just take it, “You really didn’t have to, but thank you. I appreciate the treat.” I really didn’t expect anything but somehow it feels nice, I think?

“Of course I had to, it was very heavy. Have a great day and even greater tomorrow.” What a nice saying. “It really was no big deal. You as well, bye now.” Waves exchanged and walked just far enough to unwrap the candy without it looking weird. It tastes like cherry, I like it. Well, I suppose one good reason for helping her out was that my body warmed itself up a little. 

 As I carry myself down this drying gray sidewalk, a bittersweet taste of nostalgia spreads itself on my tongue, into my hippocampus, making its way down my throat and into my heart. A pain of loss and emptiness overtakes. What did I lose? My nerves? My confidence? Even deeper still, my heart? A deep inhale, into an exhale, anxiety is heightened– it’s slightly harder to breathe. Why, then, do I help if all it does is result in this? It feels worse when I don’t help. I think making people sad and disappointing them makes me feel worse than when I go out of my way to help someone. So then, am I really plagued with apathy?

Maybe I just don’t know how to feel any of it. Is it something that’s taught? Who would even teach a thing like that? Is anyone supposed to? If it’s a learned skill, who do I blame for not teaching me? My friends? My teachers? My parents? I don’t know what to feel, let alone how to feel. But… There’s always a faint warm feeling when I do help people like that woman. I also get that same feeling whenever I’m around a certain people. Then again, how do I even know if it is taught? Maybe I just lack the ability entirely, like when I was being made someone somewhere just forgot to put “emotional intelligence” in my Role-Playing Game stat sheet. I wouldn’t know, but I think it’s a reminder that I’m not completely empty and I can feel something; When I try hard enough. If that’s the case, does that mean I’m extending help for a selfish reason? Does that cancel out the good deed that’s been done? I helped that lady move extremely heavy luggage and I’m still not convinced that there wasn’t a body in that weirdly gray duffel bag. That’s a good deed. I did it, without even expecting a reward. However, this reward is tasty. But, I didn’t do it out of the kindness of my heart. Am I a bad person in that case? Does the end result of a good deed done justify that I did it solely for a selfish reason? Could it still be classified as a good deed? I’m sure this thought has been debated for longer than I’ve been alive. How gloomy. Why do I care so much?

Care. I suppose I do care. To an extent? I don’t think so. If I didn’t care, then why help her to begin with? If I genuinely lacked concern for her, I simply would have just kept walking. Right? So reasonably, I care. To an extent? Still no, I don’t think– to an extent. I want to care. Sincerely. So I get there through a roundabout way, in a roundabout way to think about it. Okay then, so I do care… even if it isn’t entirely dissimilar to Alexander the Great having to conquer the entire continent in order to just see the ocean. Am I misremembering that? Either way, I have to get to the place of care the long way. That’s okay, right?

Is that a man sitting on the sidewalk? He has a sign with him, it’s becoming more readable. “Homeless. The end is coming. Need money. Government owned by demo–” O-kay. I’ll just keep walking.

“Spare change, sir?” I was hoping to just sneak past. “I might, I don’t really carry cash though. Give me a moment.” He has a gray beanie on with no writing, it looks new. Well, I definitely have a twenty-bill in my wallet that I have completely forgotten about. Apparently. It’ll probably do him better anyway.

“Here you go, sir. Sorry I don’t have any bigger bills.” Leaving it in the cup and I am walking off, the sign is still weird.

“Oh, thank you kind stranger!! This will definitely help my organization take down the shadow government!! This beautiful gray bill will go towards many beautiful contraptions.” Funny. Really funny. “I’m sure!” I liked his beanie though.

I’m almost there. He seemed pretty grateful, though. That’s nice. Am I smiling a little bit? I suppose if I could help him out, even a little, then well, I guess it’s fine to be a fake. 

“The fake is of far greater value. In its deliberate attempt to be real, it’s more real than the real thing,” huh? I think I heard it in a monster’s tale, somewhere.

So I suppose at the end of it all, there isn’t really a reason as to how we end up. We just exist as we are. Sure, maybe I’m filled with some weird mixture of apathy and empathy that I don’t know how to regulate. There’s still something to be seen in my worldview of grays. Asking questions like these, no matter how many times I have this conversation with myself, just leaves me with questions for someone way above my paygrade that’s been ignoring me since before I even pulled up to the building.

“Hey. You’re late.” They look really mad.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. An older lady needed help moving a really heavy bag.” I can’t help but laugh a little, “I’m pretty sure there was a body in there or something, it was a seriously heavy duffel bag.”

“An old lady?” Yup. 

“An old lady.”

“A really heavy bag? Really?” I genuinely wish I was exaggerating. 

“Really. It was that heavy. I couldn’t make this up if I wanted to.”

“Hahaha.” That laugh. I don’t think they believe me though. “If it was that heavy, I suppose I just have to forgive you. You might be arrested for being an accessory to murder, who knows how long I have left with you?”

Funny. “Haha. Yeah–” No really, funny. 

The sky looks so blue today. “Come on idiot, we’re already late.”

The state of my world is gloomy. Sometimes the colors get muddled with the hustle of everyday life. The monotony causes the colors to become monochrome in it. So, apathy becomes commonplace. Everything just becomes another motion to go through; so disconnected from everyone else, the loneliness becomes addicting. I didn’t have much in that small town. I didn’t see it coming, yet it still came. Living on fast forward only causes everything to melt together– So enthralled with just getting there, everything arrived blurred and unclear; washed out and gray. But–

“Would you look at that? It really does have a lot of color.” I suppose a rainbow can be beautiful every once in a while.

“Say, just out of curiosity. What color was the bag?”

Huh? Oh. “Ah– It was blue.” Y–

“That’s my favorite color.”

Yeah.

Weighted Words

“This is Emergency Services, how can I help you?”

“H-He’s dead?”

“Sir, who’s dead? Sir? Who is dead?”

“I just talked to him a couple of hours ago. Oh my god.”

“Sir, are you okay? What is your current location? Are you safe?”

“Yeah, uh… I am at 102 Baker Way.”

“Can you check for a pulse? Just place your index and middle fingers on the side of the neck or on the bottom side of the wrist–”

“There– Um– There’s a hole– The gun, it’s in his hand. His head–”

“Sir, stay right where you are. Peacekeepers and police are on their way. Are you hurt at all?”

“Peacekeepers? He– was the number one though–”

I look at the news when I smell death in the air, it’s like a gut wrenching feeling that twists and balls up into a knot similar to earbud cables in your pocket. There’s one in my stomach tonight, it twists even tighter still. Making its way up into my throat, I can’t get the words out. Denial into anger into sorrow into– acceptance. Could anyone even accept such a situation? Someone I once knew is gone. In an instant. Explosion into metal– metal meets skin and gets acquainted with bone. It nestles into the mind and scrambles. It says goodbye to the bone and exchanges pleasantries with the skin once again. Does it feel like an eternity? Is it instant? A morbid curiosity that no one dares speak aloud. I wonder if there was a brief regret after it was pulled? Talk about going out with a bang.

“It all just kind of ends in the blink of an eye. Everything you are, everything you were, everything you were supposed to be gone, like breath on a mirror. Would it have gotten easier? The expectations vanish, the weight is lifted, and all that’s left is a slumber too good to wake up from. Words are heavy, so I don’t take them too seriously. Can you tell me a joke now? Because, I’m trying hard not to miss it– Everything I could have been.”

Authorized access only: Only those with Violet clearance or above may read the transcription below: Redaction necessary for Violet clearance:

INTERVIEWER: So [REDACTED] What was the last conversation you and the victim had?

MALE SUSPECT: It was something about our days. I’m pretty sure. Sorry. Can I have a moment? It’s difficult to speak about.

INTERVIEWER: Of course. Take your time.

[SILENCE]

MALE SUSPECT: Yeah. Um. [SUSPECT CLEARS THROAT] The last thing we spoke about was asking him about his day and then I congratulated him on being the number one for the tenth year in a row. Takes real hard work. I’m proud of him.

[SHUFFLING IN SEAT]

INTERVIEWER: I see. I noticed that you were number two in all ten of those years. There was nothing else you were feeling? Jealousy maybe?

MALE SUSPECT: [SCOFFS] Maybe a bit of a friendly rivalry. This is too much. I could never do something like this. He is my best friend. I am happy to be the second to someone like him. He is as much a hero to me as he is to everyone else. I look up to him.

INTERVIEWER: And it was you who found the body, no?

MALE SUSPECT: I found him. Yes. Am I being treated as a suspect?

INTERVIEWER: With all due respect [REDACTED] You found the body. You are number two. The number one Peacekeeper was just found dead in his home with a bullet wound in his head. You have to understand how this looks from my perspective.

MALE SUSPECT: Detective with all due respect. [UNINTELLIGIBLE] You. This is beyond parody. That man is my best friend. He has kept this entire country. No the entire world safe. And you think I killed him? I could never kill someone who shone so brightly in the face of darkness. He shouldered us when we couldn’t handle the weight. He took it all and asked for nothing in return. Why the [UNINTELLIGIBLE] Would you ever think I could do something like this? Why don’t you see it from my perspective? [UNINTELLIGIBLE]. I’m done.

[MALE SUSPECT GETS UP]

[INTERVIEW ROOM DOOR OPENS]

UNNAMED MALE: Hey. [UNINTELLIGIBLE] Leave.

INTERVIEWER: It’s alright. Let him go. He doesn’t know anything else.

[SILENCE]

INTERVIEWER: We’ll bring him back in for questioning once we have the ballistics report.

[RECORDING CLICKS] [RECORDING END]

The redaction may as well not even be there. What is the point of that? Christ… the Protectorate is a joke, even the idiot interviewing the guy is a meathead. The gun was in the victim’s hand on the scene with the bullet made out of the only thing that could kill him. Normally, the person who found the body is just brought in for an official statement. Must’ve cost a fortune though, that bullet. Magnesium-iron from a very specific meteor. Could’ve lived forever if he wanted, it’s real expensive to get a bullet like this made. We’re talking millions nearing billions. I don’t believe anyone wants this guy dead that bad. Then again, he did stop a lot of world domination attempts. Although, all the real baddies are locked away and the newer up-and-comers definitely don’t have this much motion. Thing is I can’t even blame the meathead for treating him as a suspect. It’s a shock to see.

“Number One Protector of the Protectorate” is found dead with a bullet hole in the side of his head, pistol in his hand and chambered to his pistol that is biometrics only. Clear and cut suicide, seeing as the biometrics literally only have him as an eligible user. It’s been registered for… six years? Now, now. Why would the Protectorate’s favorite pet lapdog need a gun with all that meta-human strength? 

The house is still being searched, I wonder if there is a physical gun registry that can match up to the records that were sent to us on the net. Everyone’s working fast. Autopsy is on hold because nothing can cut the guy’s skin so the Protectorate is manufacturing some tools on quick order. I should check if the ballistic’s report is done, better use of my time than reading these amateur interviews. I’ll need to interview the guy myself if I want real answers. As I turn, this building looks fake. Every time I become aware of my surroundings, it feels like a set on a TV show. The best officers of the precinct on the main wall where everyone can see– Papers scattered around every desk, computers showing a way too outdated database. Everyone scurrying around like their work is the most important. Doors slamming shut, only to be opened minutes after. The work feels fake, disassociated almost; Disconnected from the real world. I have to remind myself that it’s real work that I’m doing here– that I’m saving lives. Where’s that guy who works in ballistics again? If I remember right, it’s downstairs in the labs behind the staircase. He has thick round glasses, short brown hair and a small thin nose. I can’t remember his name. Guy can be like a wizard sometimes though, how old was he again?

“Hey, kid, got anything on the ballistics report for the corpo case?” 

“Ah! S-Sir! We just finished it actually but I don’t think I’m able to release it to other departments yet–”

“Yeah, yeah. How many times we been through this?” Just give me the freakin’ report. Whoa. This matches up with the interview. So why are the Protectorate interviewing potential suspects? Why is this being investigated as a murder? “Kid, how many times you run this?”

“That’s– not really how it works but the report is accurate– It was likely suicide.”

Authorized access only: Only those with Violet clearance or above may read the transcription below: Redaction necessary for Violet clearance:

INTERVIEWER: So [REDACTED] What was the last conversation you and the victim had?

FEMALE SUSPECT: It was about an idea for a date. Our anniversary was coming up. And we couldn’t figure out just where yet but it sounded like he had a surprise planned.

INTERVIEWER: Hm. How was his schedule? Meeting up with anyone on his off time?

FEMALE SUSPECT: Not that I am aware of. Why is that relevant?

INTERVIEWER: Ma’am. I don’t mean offense. I’m simply asking questions. It was just my understanding that he might have been too busy for anything other than being the Protectorate’s hero. So if he had enough time to plan for a date, then maybe he was meeting up with some other people on this off time?

FEMALE SUSPECT: I’m sorry. I must not have heard you. Is this being treated as a murder investigation in which I am a suspect of?

INTERVIEWER: No ma’am. Like I stated previously I am simply asking questions. Just trying to understand what happened.

FEMALE SUSPECT: I could never do anything like this. I would never dream of it. That was the father of my children. My husband who I spent over a decade with. How do I even explain that to them? That their dad is gone and not coming back? Do you know what that feels like?

INTERVIEWER: We’re just trying to see all the angles ma’am. I’m just trying to get the bigger picture.

FEMALE SUSPECT: This man was a beacon of hope to all the people. He kept us safe. Do you really think anyone could jeopardize that? He was kind to a fault. He was so kind that he would put himself in harm’s way to help someone. He would get the cat out of the [UNINTELLIGIBLE] tree. He would help an old man cross the road. He would take a hurt puppy to the vet and even find it a home after. He would help an old lady move. Yes he was late to every date and I didn’t care because I know he always had a good reason for it. He was a hero for my children and everyone else’s children. Even yours. He made this world a better place and this world is much much darker without him here. That is all I have to say regarding this. I am going now.

[SHUFFLING]

[FEMALE SUSPECT GETS UP]

[INTERVIEW ROOM DOOR OPENS]

INTERVIEWER: Let her out.

[SILENCE]

[…]

[SILENCE]

[RECORDING CLICKS] [RECORDING END]

December 24, Post-Emergence 2044

Melody,

You’re gone for the holidays with your parents and I had to stay behind so I want to start off by apologizing because I couldn’t say it to you. I write this with a heavy heart, but I don’t think I can carry this burden anymore. It’s all become too much to bear.

At first, it was easy. I was a dumb punk kid with a dream to be number one and I got there. I tried so hard to just get there that I never even stopped to consider the amount of responsibility it comes with normally. I tried to be the best I could be. I tried to be the beacon that everyone sees me as. Symbol of peace? I have a few better jokes than that one. I was never cut out for it. I thought that, at the start, that each battle was worth the pain because I could see everyone smile back home, that the amazement in their eyes was enough. It eventually became haunting. The smiles pierced like knives, their stares like bullets because I felt I wasn’t living up to it enough. So I went farther and further. Each proceeding battle was to fill a void, I volunteered. I told you they sent me. Remember that time I was in the hospital for three months? I was hoping that, deep down, that maybe that one was finally the one where I didn’t come back.

But it wasn’t– I came home. Every time. I would see your smile and feel overwhelming guilt. Your smile felt like bullets and the way you looked at me cut me in the deepest parts of my heart. The smile that kept me above water began to drown me. Falling deeper and deeper.

I’m not enough.

I shouldered all these responsibilities. For what?

Kindness?

Compensation?

Acceptance?

“That’s enough. You can stop now.”

Not that I blame anyone, how would any of you know? I’m weak, I’m saying it.

The meteorite was recovered from a base in the 12th Ward, during a raid against a now defunct organization. Six years ago. The same time I bought the gun. I stole enough of the meteorite to make the bullet. It wasn’t hard, I just took it and no one said anything.

I’m sorry.

Yours truly,

Valerian

The interviews stopped after the letter was found. It’s been two weeks since and the case is being officially closed. Top brass apologized profusely to the victim’s wife and the now number one. Wife is getting a huge payday. Hate to admit it, but the guy really thought it through. He was on watch when he offed himself. His contract states that if, “in any event” were he to die on the clock, his family gets a huge payday. I imagine that they would much prefer him over the money though.

So in the end, the big guy really did just end it himself. That meathead still tried pursuing a murder route and found that the main suspects all have alibis and that further interviews were no longer necessary but I digress. With cases like these, I often wonder what it is that went through your mind. Bullet aside, that is. Could be I’m overthinking it, but even in the letter it felt like you were hiding something. Like even in the face of death, you never really took off the mask. It sort of felt like you were apologizing for not being able to remove it. With that in mind, maybe it makes sense. Snip it at its root.

For how long did you really struggle? Or, was it spur of the moment? As if, right? Those thoughts must have spun around in your head for so long that it went from a passing thought to a viable option. You didn’t have to bear it all alone, you could have let up a little. You know, put down the mask and see the rainbows every once in a while. You more than deserved your right to a peaceful and quiet life. Hope you’ve managed to find it now.

That was just it though, wasn’t it?

No one said that to you, did they? Could’ve done you some good. Weak? I think it’s incredible that you held on for ten years. That’s strength. It just always rains the hardest when it comes down to what was left unsaid. It feels terrible, like an accidental injury you could have prevented. The gravity of what is left unsaid is denser, becoming a knot in the stomach so tight that it becomes a black hole– everything is sucked in and guilt comes out of the other side. It must have felt like trying to move around in a dark crawlspace, just enough space to move around so that you feel you are making some sort of progress but not so much that you feel like no progress has been made at all. Being unable to see where you’re going, it must truly have been some sort of torture to feel like that.

I think– I’m just projecting my feelings onto you. Trying to better understand the thought process behind an action with this much despair and tragedy behind it. I wonder if in the end, you were able to get the peace that you sought. The world was brighter for having you in it. I respected you, despite your work for the corpo. I wish I could say that to you now, it’s going to weigh heavy on my mind from now on. Jokes aren’t really my thing– Rest up, Number One. We’ll do the rest. It’s the least we could do and I’ll try hard not to miss everything you couldn’t be.

“The weather this time of year is horrible. I hate the rain.”

Velvet Egg

I have a weird memory from when I was a kid. I think I was about eight. My mom was in a shed that was outside, in a flower garden. I can’t remember the specific kinds of flowers, but I do remember that they were red and white. She was building me a treehouse and was sawing the wood for it. My dad was never really around at that time in my life. Mom told me he just got up and left one day, and said he was tired of supporting dead weight. I don’t really remember his face at all either. I think all the pictures of him were thrown out and I wasn’t allowed to keep a photo of him. I don’t think I ever held any sort of resentment towards him, either. I don’t even really blame him. In some sort of way, I kind of get it. It did just make me a little sad that he wouldn’t show me new books. I would really have loved his recommendations for my newfound interest in horror. What am I even thinking about? I think I’m just feeling nostalgic today specifically. It always seems to pop up when I’m heading back home. Train seems to be running late today. I’m moving back in with my mom for a bit until I get back on my feet. I was let go from my job. Just another one of those mass layoffs I keep hearing about. “Corporate profits,” my ass. I’m lucky to at least have a mom to move back in with. She was ecstatic about me moving back in, saying she can stop pestering me about if I’m eating well.

“Please step behind the yellow line, train to Ziegenei arriving.” Better get on board quickly, don’t want to keep Mom waiting too long. I woke up so early to make this train, I might nod off for a bit. At least it’s an empty train car.

“Arriving at Ziegenei in [8] hours.”

“Hey, you there.”

I didn’t intend to jump, I was startled. Not a single soul was in sight. All I can see is all the empty velvet red fabric seats. Probably some kid doing a prank from one of the other cars. Must be bored this early in the morning.

“Hey, are you ignoring me?”

“Not at all, just really tired.” I’m keeping my eyes closed, it sounds like a kid though.

“Do you have a favorite flower?”

A favorite flower? I suppose it would have to be, “Well, I think that would be a red spider lily.”

“Is that the flower you saw in your dream?”

Huh? This train smells like metal? Like–

“Home.” 

“What did you say?!” Now I’m up, who said that? Nearly gave me a heart attack. All I see are the gold trimmed windows and these oddly blood colored seats. It’s completely empty. There comes a stewardess, I’ll ask her if there’s any other person in this train.

“Excuse me, miss?” She’s pretty. Her brown eyes are captivating.

“Yes, how can I help?”

“I think there are some children running amok here. I just had a very strange conversation with a child as I was resting my eyes and they asked me a very personal, offensive question.”

“Oh dear, well that’s strange. These three cars, that being this one, the one behind us, and the one in front of us are all adult only cars as they serve alcohol. New laws state that children mustn’t be allowed anywhere near the consumption of alcohol. I’m sorry about the inconvenience, I will get that checked out right away. Have a free drink on the house, here’s a voucher.”

“Thank you. I’d love to find out who it was.” Clearly better security is needed if kids are sneaking into this part of the train. I did nothing more but stare at her as she walked through the door into the car directly behind me. I suppose I’ll rest my eyes for a bit.

As you drift off to sleep, you like to think about the warmth of home. The smell of your mother’s cooking, nostalgic. Reunited with the innocence of days past, untainted by the journey of adulthood. Before the jaded rush of everyday life, when wonder filled your eyes. Curiosity at its peak, for even the simplest of times. A tear rolls down your flush cheek, confused at first. It’s then you realize, there’s a hidden pain within the warmth; not dissimilar from a hand that touches an open flame for slightly too long. Accompanied by a sinking feeling, in the pits of your stomach. So save the tears for later, child, darker days are yet to come.

“A… v… l… Z… g… nei”

Huh? I think I had a weird dream.

“We have arrived at Ziegenei, thank you for riding ProTrack.”

Ah– I slept through it. I wonder if that stewardess ever found that kid. I’ll ask one of the staff about where she’s at so I can ask for an update. Oh, lucky me. One of the barkeepers is walking this way. “Hey excuse me? Do you know where the stewardess with the bob cut and the brown eyes is? She was about this tall–” I think it was about five-foot-two but I’m really just eyeballing it by putting my hand near the center of my chest to signify a height.

“What are you talkin’ about mate? No one with that description works on this train.”

That can’t be. I saw her clear as day. Do they wear wigs to mess with us so something like this happens? “That can’t be, I saw her walk by me clear as day. I even had an entire conversation with her.”

“Mate. This specific train goes across the country. All the staff are signed on contract for months at a time. I know who works here pretty well, we’ve been here for two months. Four round trips already. No one that works here fits that description.”

“I-I see.”

“Lay off the liquor, mate.”

“I will, thanks.” That’s so strange. I was awake, right? Right!? I talked to her, plain as day. I should grab my bag and go. I must be tired.

“Train departs in [2] minutes.”

Better grab my things and hurry off. Gonna be late, Mom said she was going to wait with the car. The air smells nostalgic. I think I missed it here a little, I’m glad to be back. But, what that guy said. I was definitely awake talking to that stewardess. I should know! The kid I can believe was a dream, that was definitely an interaction that I can write off as a dream. I mean, how would some random kid know that I see flowers in my dream? I must have been day dreaming or something. Yeah. The stewardess must have been in league with the bartender to mess with me, the annoying guy who complained about a kid. Right. Yeah. Oh look, there’s Mom.

“Hi sweetheart!” Ah. She always makes me feel at home with her big hugs.

“Hey Mom, how have things been?”

“Oh you know, the same old. Quite uneventful since you went and grew up! I’m sure things will pick up again soon now that you’re back. You always make the neighborhood liven up a little.” I don’t think any of our neighbors like me, they kept blaming me for their lost pets. I don’t know why they would do that, I’m allergic to cats and dogs. I much prefer to stay away from them.

“I don’t think that’s true, but are things good?”

“Oh yes, dear. You worry too much. Now put your bags in the back seat, I left dinner heating in the oven. I hope you’re hungry, since I knew ahead of time that you were coming I made a little extra. I know it’s been a while since you have had a home cooked meal.”

“Ah– Yeah… I’ve really missed your cooking, Mom.” Getting into the seat, I realize I’m not really that hungry actually but Mom is a world renowned chef. I’ll probably feel hungrier once I eat something. I think I’m just a little shaken up about the whole stewardess thing. It’s about an hour’s drive home, I think I’ll rest my eyes a little more– I think I’m still a little tire…

The feeling of your stomach sinking into the absolute depths of your core. The guilt of a child who did something he wasn’t supposed to. Heart racing, in your sleep. You know the truth, in those same depths. The food everywhere else didn’t quite satiate your hunger. Even your own cooking, you followed your Mom’s famous recipes that were published online and yet it never satisfied you. It wasn’t “enough.” Not like good ol’ mom dearest and her cooking. Well, she is a world famous chef after all.

“Mom, were you talking? I think I heard someone just now.”

“Oh you must have been hearing the radio in your sleep, sleepyhead.” That must be it. I’m still so sleepy. Her giggle–

“Sounded like a predator mocking its prey.”

I must have shot awake, abruptly awoken from my half-sleep. I listened to the radio more intently:

Interviewer: “This week on Cases Gone Cold… We have Detective Edward Dantes here to discuss the case of… the Velvet Massacres! A truly gruesome and mysterious case. There have been thirty victims confirmed so far but the Proctor Company and police believe there could be many more. The Velvet gets their name from the fact that they leave almost the floor covered in a layer of blood… Making it look like a ‘Red Carpet’ event. Detective Dantes, you were the lead detective on this case. You were stated to have said, ‘There will never be a more cruel series of murders.’ and ‘The most savage and gruesome case I’ve ever worked.’ What makes the Velvet different from other serial killers?”

Detective Dantes: “First of all, thank you for having me. It’s a pleasure. Well, I’m no fan of discussing this case. The cruelty someone has to have in order to do the things that were done, and the amount of confirmed victims is, frankly, staggering. What separates the ‘Velvet’ from the other ones is that they leave no leads. None of the victims are connected in any way, shape, or form. The only thing that connects them is the same attack pattern, which includes the way the body– Sorry, the way the victims were slashed repeatedly. They were also skinned and prepared as you would if you were hunting a deer. A couple of them also had cut portions of the victim in tupperware made out to myself and my partner, Detective Knight, for the ‘inconvenience’ of having to continue our investigation. These were made public by the press. Bite marks were found on all the victims’ bodies. These bite marks are how we mainly confirmed it was a ‘Velvet’ attack.”

Interviewer: “Why the bite marks? For our audio listeners who may be on a leisurely drive while listening to a morbid case.”

Both chuckle at the same time, the interviewer seemed to have gotten much more than he bargained for. He sounds uncomfortable.

Detective Dantes: “Aha, yes. Apologies. Well the reason why we attributed the attacks to the bite marks were due to the chunks of flesh bitten out of the neck area, although there have been some with chunks bitten out from the stomach like a panther eating a deer carcass. These chunks are usually followed with a knife in what looks like pulling out the innards by hand– The specific scenes had some of these, for lack of a better term, guts ripped apart with their teeth.”

Interviewer: “O-Oh my god… Well, listeners and watchers alike– that’s all we have time for. The Velvet Case has gone cold, with no leads and no victims for the past four years. It remains unsolved. I, for one, am grateful that the terror is over. For now.”

Yeah that was definitely too much for the interviewer. “Wow, what a terrible thing.”

“It is such an– overwhelming amount of victims. Almost like a glutton.”

“Yeah…” I swallowed instinctively because Mom’s acting weird, I should just drop it. I don’t think she likes hearing about horrific things like that. Not that I do. I just don’t think she has the stomach for it. Her hand was shaking.

It was silent for the rest of the drive home, when we pulled up to my childhood home. She didn’t say anything and rushed inside. I think the interview may have upset her. I’ll just grab my stuff and get inside. When I walked in, nostalgia overtook my senses. My brain was nagging at me, “We’ve been away for too long!” For the first time in a short while, I felt relaxed and at home.

“Is what you tell yourself.”

Who said that? What? “Mom?” It kind of sounded like Dad?

“Ahem. Y-Yes dear, I’m in the kitchen.” Weird, was she crying?

“Okay, I’m going to leave my bags in my room and I’ll come back down for dinner.”

“S-Sounds good.” I think she’s crying. I’ve really gotta pay attention to what she listens to. These old creaky stairs sound the same as they did when I was a kid, funny. The same creaky door to my room. It’s so loud, it used to wake Mom when I’d go to the restroom in the middle of the night sometimes. She’d come out really quickly, sprinting almost when she heard something out in the hall. I don’t know why she would be so worried though, we lived in a quiet and safe neighborhood. Nothing ever happens here.

My room has not changed at all. Looks exactly the same as when I left four years ago. I shouldn’t have dropped the bags like that, they thudded pretty loudly. I’m going to take a quick seat on my bed and just take it all in. It smells like home.

“Grayson! Dinner!”

“Coming!” I’m kind of dreading this, I’m not that hungry. But, better to get something to eat rather than not. It’ll only make me feel worse to not. The door really is loud though and these stairs feel like I could fall through at any moment. These old chairs. They feel as wooden and uncomfortable as ever. Dinner looks good though, it looks like filets of something? Smells like chicken. “Chicken for dinner, Mom?”

“Ah– Yes, you look a little too skinny! You need some protein in you.”

“Mom, I’ve been eating properly.” A lie, sometimes I got too enthralled with my work that I just wouldn’t eat because stopping my work felt too bothersome for no reason in particular that day.

“Of course you have.” Her warm smile, her warm dinner. I feel like I’m repeating myself but– I’m really glad to be home. “Go ahead and dig in, no need to wait for me.”

The knife went through that like butter, wow. “It smells really good.” The taste. Oh, the taste. Cooked to absolute perfection. I have missed this. It’s really juicy, savory. Full of flavor. “Mom, I have tried to replicate your cooking with your recipes but I just can’t get it right. Could you teach me how to make it like you do?”

“You have? Well, I appreciate that you love my cooking so much. There’s nothing to teach though! I just put so much love into what I’m cooking because I’m cooking for you. The secret, my son, is to cook for someone– With someone in mind, rather. I’ll teach you tomorrow.”

Wow. I never really thought about that. This food is so good. I’ve missed it so much. I must have really missed home. Mom has been on her own so I think I’ve just been worried if she had been taking care of herself. I missed Mom too.

“But it felt wrong.”

It’s good. It’s so good. I want more. I want so much more, I haven’t had it in so long. I am going to treat myself tonight. She said she made extra, right? I want– No, I need more. It’s the best thing I’ve ever had. Why is this dish so good? Why is it the best thing I’ve ever had? Oh my god! It has to be an ingredient. Is it MSG or drugs? I don’t know what it is but there’s a flavor I can’t quite pinpoint. It’s like– it tastes like chicken but– it’s almost not. It’s like an enhanced chicken flavor.

“Mom?” I should finish chewing and swallowing before I talk. I just can’t help it.

“Do you want seconds?”

This– is chicken, right? I really missed your cooking, Mom… “I don’t think I’m really hungry anymore but–” I want more. I want so much more. “I think it’s better if I eat, in case I’m not feeling well.”

“That’s the spirit! Have as much as you like.”

“Thank you!”

Another helping, it’s satiating me for once. Food is making me feel full! Oh- Nothing else matters but this meal, that God himself has blessed me with. This must be what Heaven is like. I must have died and gone to Heaven, “This is chicken, right?”

“Yes? Why would you ask that? What else could it possibly be?”

“Sorry, it just tastes so good I must have spoken out loud. I think I just missed home.”

As you continue your meal sent from the Heavens, scarfing it down like you’ve never eaten anything before. And it could be in all truth to say, it’s possible that you really haven’t eaten since you left. There was a thought in the back of your mind. If only two people were present in your home at the time, and both people were at the dinner table enjoying a succulent meal. Then–

Who was laughing?

Huh? When did I get into bed? What time is it? Oh, it’s nine. In the morning. I still feel full from last night, I should use the restroom and go down to see if Mom is up yet. Good morning, creaky door. This bathroom always made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know why, it makes me feel like there’s a knot in my chest. Oh well, I’m sure it’s nothing.

Good morning, creaky stairs. “Mom?” Nothing. She’s probably out in the garden or asleep. I wonder what I should do for today then? I could go out for a walk, maybe read a little. Although there was always something uneasy about my childhood home. There is a room below the stairs that I was never allowed in, even now as an adult. I don’t remember much about this room, but I do know Mom is very strict about it. It’s one of the only things she’s ever been stern about. What’s in that room? I almost want to ask her what’s in there. My heart’s racing, I am terrified of just staring at this plain, white door.

Come on in.

Holding the door knob feels like I’m committing blasphemy. I’ve already made it this far, I may as well. Huh? Nothing but a freezer unit? I wonder what’s in it. Probably A-1 Wagyu steak that she’s saving for a special occasion. The door is heavier than I thought. What kind of– ingredient is that?

“Sweetie,”

Run. 

That’s a–

“What have I told you about knocking?”

What? You’ve never told me anything about knocking. “That’s a h–”

Concussively, you have fallen asleep. Got you good. Almost like she knew exactly where to hit you. It all suddenly begins to make sense as you wake up, like putting together a puzzle. Memories were lost and scattered. You hear me more clearly now. Good. We can have a conversation now.

“I don’t… know what’s happening?”

They say ignorance is bliss. Willful ignorance or not, I suppose living the everyday life was better for us, wasn’t it? The pieces started fitting together as soon as you got to the train station. The insatiable hunger from the food in the city you lived in. Remember already! Put it together, damnit!

“I don’t… know?”

I hear the door. I think? “Oh dear. I’m sorry to have to do this to you. You have to learn not to just walk into any door without permission.” Do what to me? Why can’t I move my hands? Am I tied to the chair?!

“Mom!? What’s going on?!”

“Close your eyes, sweetie.” What does it matter? I can’t see anything in this room anyway. I don’t even know where in this room she is. I can’t see more than 3 inches in front of me. What’s the metal clattering? “I have to teach you better as your parent, don’t I?”

What does she mean? Is that her arm holding down my wrist that’s already tied to the armchair?! I feel a weird pressure on my index finger nail. “M-Mom…?”

“Listen very closely to me, what did you see in the freezer?”

“I-I saw-”

“Think very hard, son.”

“A ha–”

It was in that instant that everything suddenly clicked for you. It felt like the bone being ripped out from under the skin. It may as well have. The pain was so intense, you couldn’t even bring yourself to yell. There was a ringing in your ear. You know it now don’t you? You couldn’t hear very clearly with all the pain, but he could make out his mother yelling obscenities.

“Oh, Grayson! Why are you making me do this?! I love you so much, son, why can’t you just listen?!”

The mother placed what you now realize are pliers and gripped the nail on your middle finger. She pulled it with no hesitation. The ringing in your ears becomes too much, you finally yell out. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

“I’m doing this because I love you, darling… Ahh– I’m so sorry I did all ten of them. I got carried away. I just love you so much. I’m going to leave you in here for the night, okay? I’ll see how you’re feeling about the freezer in the morning.”

Love hurts.

“Mom tied my hands behind my back. If I could just get out.” Then what? Run to the police before she can get me? I’ll just die. I need to find a way out of this and subdue her. Yeah. I need to find a way out of this and tie her up so I can get the police. 

Before you can even think about that, you know what that is already don’t you? You didn’t come back because you got fired. They offered you another position, but you just didn’t take it, right? You felt like you were gone for so long, unsatisfied. You felt it, in your tongue all the way down your throat into the deepest pit of your stomach. You had doubts about your mother’s cooking, didn’t you?

Can you see me now?

“With the pretty eyes– What are you doing here?”

I’m not.

“I missed you.”

Gross.

What is it that you’re clinging to? Some semblance that, even after all this, you will go back to normal? Oh no, my love, you will suffer. You lie to yourself too often and I can’t continue to allow you to hurt yourself. I only want what’s best for you. So let go and realize that you are doomed– oh, here she comes.

“I’m doing this for your own good.” I don’t even know how long it has been.

Oh, there she goes. Tying your hands back onto the arms of the chair, what do you think she’s going to do this time? Maybe she’ll break your fingers? Oh, maybe your toenails are next? I wonder, I wonder.

“M-Mom, what are you doing?”

“I’m teaching you not to go into places you’re not supposed to, like I should have a long time ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

It feels like the same pressure on my toenails as it did on my nails. I guess my toenails were next. “I won’t do it again–”

“Oh no, my love. That’s not going to work this time around, you don’t mean it. You didn’t listen last time.”

“There wasn’t a last time–” The feeling is the same, only way more intense. It feels like my bone being ripped out, the burning sensation after as the healing process begins immediately feels like thousands of tiny needles desperately trying to sow everything back together. There is a warmness as the blood drips down the side of my smallest toe. She moved onto the next one, “I really wish you listened to me, it brings me no pleasure to do this.” She said with a smile on her face, I couldn’t see it through the pain and darkness but I could hear the smile behind the words. She pulled the next one, and the next one, and the next one– until there was nothing left to pull. I blacked in and out, especially when she lightly pulled on some of them. Pretending to struggle to get it off so it would hurt more, causing way more damage.

“Please think about what you’ve learned today.”

So, what did you learn today?

“That I love you, Ms. Stewardess.”

You’re vile. I abhor you. Answer the question.

The meat didn’t taste right.

Her constant nagging and insistence that you finish your meat. After all, you loved the way she cooked it, right? How did you say it? Savory and sweet, like enhanced chicken. Mom never made you finish your vegetables. She only cared that you only ever ate meat, because you have to grow up big and strong with lots of protein right? Did she even put veggies on your plate, Grayson?

The meat didn’t taste right.

Remember when you were six? It wasn’t a flower garden. She wasn’t making you a treehouse, it wasn’t wood that she was sawing. Have you ever seen a treehouse in your yard? Did I ever even have one? What was she sawing, Grayson?

The meat didn’t taste right.

That’s right, you remember. It wasn’t outside. 

“It was in the bathroom, the one across the hall. It had all white tiles at the time. They got changed out after. Mom said it was something to do with staining and mold.” Yeah, I remember, “I was looking for her, I don’t remember the specific reason. I think I just wanted to show her some drawings I made. I called out, ‘Mommy! Mommy!’ but there was no answer. I walked around the whole ground floor looking for her and calling out. I went up those stairs, they weren’t creaky yet. I turned the corner at the very top of the stairs. I saw the bathroom light on. I was a pretty loud kid, I don’t know why this was the one time I decided to be quiet. I suppose at the time, maybe I could understand a little bit that I really shouldn’t go in there. I wish I didn’t. My little arms reached for the door knob and flung the door open. I just froze at the sight. My last day of innocence. The sight was so terrible I could only stand there. Vel– Mom was sawing Dad apart in the bathtub. For a few seconds, she didn’t notice me. So she kept going, cutting through the bone. For whatever reason, Dad’s eyes were precisely aligned with my height at the door. As she continued, it’d make his body that was already contorted to fit in the tub move. His head jolted back and forth. His jaw hung open, his head tilted downward. I couldn’t take my eyes away from him. It felt like an eternity. He looked at me, pleading for me to help him. ‘Please, son, get me away from her.’ But– there was nothing else behind his eyes.”

“When she finally took notice, she just smiled so sweetly at me with blood all over her face. ‘You shouldn’t barge in like that, sweetie. Remember to knock. It’s okay this time, but close the door and run along now.’ She did tell me about knocking before. But, I was frozen. I couldn’t move. Dad was asking me for help.”

“She got more stern with me, for the first time in my six years of living. ‘Darling, my hands are messy. Close the door and run along.’ She was demanding this time, so I stepped my tiny step further to reach the door– Too scared to get any closer. I closed the door and she said something as I did. I was too scared to ask again so I just kept walking but I remember it clearly.”

Dinner will be ready soon.

We ate meat that night.

I think even at that age, I knew what it was. Mom was insistent, as she would continue to be throughout my life, that I finished my meat.

It tasted–

Divine.

Are you planning on getting out? I notice you dislocated your thumb to get yourself out of the restraints. “I have to.” You don’t, you could just go back to pretending everything’s fine. Even I’m not really here. I’m just your imagination. What is it that you really want?

Hunger. Eat. I want–

“Sweetie?”

Patiently, “Yeah?”

“How are you feeling now?”

“I… want a hug.”

“Of course.”

Here she comes– Why is my heart racing? It’s not fear. No, it’s adrenaline. I can hear her footsteps getting closer, am I excited? The next few minutes are hard to remember. All I can recall is blacking in and out. I recall– pushing her onto the ground, I was going to make a break for it but she stabbed my abdomen. I should have known that she was the Velvet, I knew my whole childhood! I wrapped my hands around her neck in return. I applied pressure, I could see she was struggling to breathe. She kept trying to talk, but I know in my heart what she was trying to tell me.

“Eat.”

Oh, it’s so intoxicating. It’s making me crazy! It’s good. It’s so good. I can’t get enough, the smell of blood was enough to drive any sane man crazy with hunger! What chance did I have?! Oh, Ms. Stewardess, ever since I met you and fell in love with your dirt-colored eyes, my life has been nothing but a series of strange occurrences! You’re making me crazy! Look! Ahh– Do you want some Ms. Stewardess?! Would that make you finally happy?! Will you go away now!!? I saved you the best piece! The heart is all for you so–

Would you marry me?

I just remember the feeling of skin sticking to my teeth. The way it felt for my teeth to sink into her neck. I remember the sensation of pulling the knife out of my side. I remember the feeling of the knife in my hand and how it felt to insert it into her stomach and slice upward. It was surprisingly easy. I think. Her guts felt like gummy worms in my mouth. The same ones from the candy store Dad used to bring us to. It felt– good. I tried so hard to repress it all. The voices, the shadows, the urge. I tried so hard not to be like her. I suppose the rotted apple never falls too far from the tree. Would my life be any different if I didn’t see what happened that day? Would I still have this urge, not knowing? I think I was doomed the day I was born to her. 

Did it taste how you imagined all those years?

“Just like how Mom used to make it. Where is she, do you think?”

Marry you? You’re delusional.

“I thought so.”

Mom taught me a lot. She helped me so much as a kid, with a smile on her face. She taught me how to do laundry, how to cook, anything that involved taking care of myself. The only lesson that I only ever seem to remember–

“Remember to eat your meat, Grayson.”

Yes, Mom.

Reports later indicated that when the scene was initially discovered, in the center of the room was a chair with ties on the arms. What appeared to be bloody fingernails were strung about on the floor, at the feet of the chair. Though that was nothing compared to what was on the seat itself, what made the responding officer involuntarily part with his dinner sooner than he had anticipated.

There was a human heart gently placed on the chair. What looked like a bite was taken out of it. Even stranger still, the bite on the heart didn’t match up quite right to the bite marks on the body.

“So what do you think, Detective? Is it the same?”

“Nah, I’ve seen too many Velvet scenes to say this is one of theirs. The bite is bigger, for one. Even for that psycho, this– it’s too much. The body’s completely torn apart.”

“Think we’re dealing with a copycat then?”

“Maybe. What came first, do you think? The chicken or the egg? This seems taught, elevated even– like a child seeking their parent’s approval.”

Ah. That’s why she sounded weird in the kitchen,

She was laughing.

In the quietness of that dinner,

It would seem that,

Enthralled with the meal itself,

Even through the tears that fell, begging you to stop,

That–

It was me laughing.

Melodies

I’ve always felt like something was missing. I always noticed this emptiness in my chest that didn’t seem to ever disappear. I often wondered if I even had a heart to begin with. Everything just felt meaningless. The days came and went, I went through the motions. I had no real dreams and aspirations. There was no light; just a dark space, like a crawl space, is where I roamed. I continued on in the dark, like a kid who turned off the light and ran back to bed so the monsters wouldn’t get them. I ran and I ran but I never found the bed, even though I could see it right in front of me. It got farther away, and once I was close, it got even farther still. I was just going through the motions. Even as a kid though, I don’t think I knew what happiness really was. I never really felt it. I laughed and I smiled, but I think the pain was noticeable. The emptiness I felt started to hurt. I tried tossing my pain with my wishes into a wishing well with no luck. I still tried, even though I knew it wouldn’t work. Something felt broken and I needed to fix it. Why couldn’t I just feel like everyone else? It was difficult to connect with people. I never really wanted it, but I got really good at being alone because of that. I thought it was okay to just float through life because that part of me was permanently broken. The emptiness and loneliness became overwhelming. I just couldn’t feel any of it and I didn’t even care anymore– until I met some people worth caring about. I tried really, really hard to keep these connections. The effort rendered me numb. I was just going through the motions. I was doing okay before, everything just felt kind of heavy– just another anvil to carry– then I met you. You were a light in the darkness I was lost in.

I’m trying to find the right words to use, but I have you in mind so it won’t take very long. You were kind, even to someone like me. There was a warmness from you, like all my troubles would disappear when you spoke. When I began to notice my feelings, I buried them. I was afraid that you would hurt me. I was alone, I was good at being alone, so I thought staying that way would be easier. I told myself you would never remotely feel the same way for me. You were so beyond someone like me. But then you’d dig them back up, so as to say, “It’s okay, you can get the wrong idea.” I never really felt that it was okay back then. It felt paralyzing– but you kept pulling me towards you. Despite my best efforts to keep you away, you got ever closer. I wouldn’t say you persisted, I don’t think you had to do very much at all. The more I learned about you, the more your name was revealed upon my person. I think, looking back, it was over for me the moment you simply said, “Hi.” on a Merry Eve. In that instant, something inside of me clicked. I wonder what I ever did to get so lucky as to have met you in this life. I had to lose my mind a couple of times to find out it’s you.

I was never so good at finding my heart. It’s funny. If I had a heart, how do you think you’d find it? Probably with a soft smile, “See? It’s right here and it’s mine.” I’m curious to know if it was always yours, like your name was always carved deep into it. As if you knew exactly where your name was on it when you introduced yourself. I could suddenly give all my effort, my heart was unexpectedly in it. You fell from the stars and I’m starstruck. You’re all I think about. Posters of you pinned up on the walls in my head. You get me through monotony, I look for you in everything. In that everything– I find you. It always comes back to you. I wonder how something might make you smile, how it might make you laugh, I think about how I could make you blush more. In my mind, you see your face. I’m giving you all my feelings, but in my mind is where they’ll stay. I could never say these words to you, I don’t think I could ever use words that aren’t embarrassing to say. But there’s a whole universe in your eyes– what chance did I ever have, to not be swallowed up by you?

When it becomes that time, at the end of the night when you can’t see– would you take my hand like it’s yours and let me be your guide? Just for the night? Just this once, so everything feels so distant for a moment? You’ve always seemed so overwhelmed with it all. It made me want to be there for you even more. Would you let me help you carry it? Side by side, in a world filled with uncertainty– whose only certainty we could ever have is us? 

I promise it’s only for a moment.

I often wonder, “Did I do the same for you?”

Did I make you worry? Did I make your heart race when I did something that was totally normal to you? Do you think about me when we’re apart? Have you slept well? Have you been eating properly? Are you stressed? You really make my mind race, you make my heart flutter, the butterflies are gliding. I’ve been stuck by glue, right onto you. You make my heart stop– every time you call my name.

I’m not really into saying it, but I have found myself looking for ways to say I love you. I do that a lot, without realizing. Giving you something I think you might like, showing you my favorite songs, spending my moments with you, making you laugh– making you blush because you’re beautiful when you smile. This feeling you give me tells me I don’t need anything else. I have always been filled with doubt in my life. I was never sure of myself, I certainly was never sure of my feelings. When it’s you– I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I wasn’t sure if it was just infatuation or love. Right now, I know it’s real and I’m really all in.

“Love is only a feeling.”

But you gave it to me, so I’m keeping it.

You’re the sunshine on a cold day. You’re the light in the darkness. You’re the warmth on a cold night. You’re the rose in that empty field. You’re the song stuck in my head. You’re the melody I’m humming from my heart. You’re–

You.

It’s always you. It could never be anyone but you. 

You’re always with me. I miss you when you’re gone, but it feels like you’ve been with me the whole time. As if you’ve detached a part of yourself and gave it to me, to be there through everything like a guardian angel. It’s how I find myself being able to articulate these feelings. Gently guiding my hand with yours, you give me the ability to put what I feel into thoughts and subsequently into words. It’s always so many words I can choose to describe how incredible you are. How am I supposed to choose the right ones? My only choice has only ever been you, how am I supposed to make a choice now?

You once told me you wished you could peer inside my mind, to learn as much as you could about me– so here you go. I’m giving it to you. You’re psychic, right? You’re all-knowing, right?! That’s the world we live in? You live in my mind rent free anyway, so what’s the difference? It’s probably not everything you wanted, I’m not that graceful with words. I’m no poet, but it’s all yours.

You’re amazing, you’re incredible, you’re inspiring, you’re hardworking, you’re talented, you’re skilled, you’re intelligent, you’re diligent, you’re reliable, you’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re lovely, you’re strong, you’re graceful, you’re–

You.

How could I ever stand a chance?

I’ve been having trouble keeping it together– really stressed trying to show you an effort. You deserve nothing less than everything I have to give. Having breakdowns and you’re wiping my tears, you worry about me, showing me songs that remind you of me. You pick my heart off of the floor. You keep me up when I’m feeling low. I don’t really believe in karma, but you’ve got me feeling grateful for all my downs. If there is such a thing as fate, the divine, or some grand plan then I’m really happy that it was you. I couldn’t accept anything other than you. I’d really travel through any and every parallel universe until I land in the one with you in it. I suppose I’m just grateful that all the suffering was for something. That at the end of it all, I can happily say I’ve got you. You brought life into me. The future’s so bright, I’ll race you there. I’ll meet you at the end of this.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. It’s pretty easy to die for something you love. I think with the thought that whatever it is gets to continue on in beauty, even at the loss of yourself, you can really do it all. With those feelings, anyone could give 110% and die for the cause. I think it’s a lot harder to live for something. You have to get through it and make it back, to see the beauty for yourself for as long as you’ve got. I don’t want to die for you, although I certainly would. No, I want to live for you. I want to be there every step of the way, holding your hand. I want to get all the time I can with you, to grow old. I never saw that as a possibility for myself. When it’s you, though, there’s nothing but possibilities. Nothing but potential futures. I’ve never really felt at home anywhere; I feel at home with you. There’s a solace in your presence, I feel like I belong somewhere when I’m with you. Your heart is my safehouse. I really feel like I finally found my home. Nothing feels the same when you’re not around, I just think about what you’d say or do if you were there. You add so much color to everything. Every moment I get to spend with you is a moment well worth it. Even if there’s only sunlight on your skin when I’m not around. We can watch the rain falling together.

I’d trade eyes with you if I could, so you could see you with the clearness of mine. You’d say you don’t agree; but I’m half the man you would be if you were me. You’re a gift and every moment with you shines that much more.

I’m always trying to be better because of you. I want to be the best version of myself I could possibly be for you. You make me apply myself more, you help me see my goals more clearly. With you, I really feel like I could do it all. I really just might. I never really deserve someone like you in my life so I’m doing my best to make sure that I can. Have I gotten there yet, in your eyes? Am I close? Will you stick around for me to get there? But, only if you want to. I promise I’m trying–

So every once in a while, won’t you lean on me a little? Spare me a thought now and then? I want to help you achieve your dreams, even if I’m of no use at all. I want to help you get there. I want to see your success and I want to be at your side when you achieve it. I would really do anything for you. If you say the word, I am there. I’m one call away if you ever need me. I admire your strength.

Though if you could answer one thing for me: Did you always know? Did you know that I didn’t stand a chance trying not to fall for you? Did you know I was yours?

Even if it’s just for a short while, even if we are limited with time, even if this love were to be doomed with tragedy– would you allow me your company? Because–

I’d really let you break my heart.

P.S. You’re so gorgeous.

“Was reading my mind everything you wanted it to be?”

“…”

“What? Say something. It’s embarrassing.”

“Idiot.”

_{Note: Coming up for air is good, every once in a while.}

Dreams in Tomb

“What do you think death is like?” Do you think it’s just the same thing as sleeping forever? Oh, what if it’s like you just can never sleep? Yeah, kind of like forever insomnia. Or, is it more like you’re just in agonizing pain forever? That one doesn’t sound too fun. What about stuck? Do you think dying feels like you’re stuck? Inhabiting the same place, walking the same block, never being able to leave. Do you think you feel like that?

Well, it’s neither. If I had to describe it, it’s like I’m stuck in a half state of lucid dreaming and being awake. There are times where it feels like I don’t quite remember things about myself, like small, insignificant pieces missing from a painting. It doesn’t take away from my ability to make it out, but that doesn’t make what’s missing any less annoying. Once it’s missing, it’s more than likely gone forever. The ability to remember among dead spirits is extremely rare. They require a reminder from the living, be it just being near a loved one or having the even rarer ability to communicate with them. Otherwise, how are you supposed to remember in a dream?

A dream is already scrambled memories being held together by a thin string, two hopes, and, if you’re lucky, a toothpick. Dreams are so easy to get lost in. Will you come and dream with me? Just the two of us? Forever.

“Yeah– I’m not doin’ that.”

“Well, why the hell not?! I’m sure you want it solved just as much as I do!”

“Look, no disrespect, but it’s a ten year old case. Ain’t much I can do for somethin’ with no leads. What I want don’t matter– Fact is that it’s a wild goose chase.”

“Were you even listening to me?”

“Nah, I heard you– Look, she died in the room. No signs of entry, forced or otherwise. No signs that anyone else was even in the room. The wound on her neck was self-inflicted and, seein’ as she has several other signs of self-harm on her body, it’s a suicide. No amount of  whatever you don’t got hard proof of is a tough sell.”

“I’ll pay you double for just checking the lead out. Quadruple if it takes you somewhere and you find out what happened.”

“Triple for the lead. I’m short on creds right now.”

“Deal. Here’s the address.”

“Pleasure doin’ business, your majesty.”

I don’t know who the guy with the suit is. He looks almost slimy? I don’t know how to describe it. Short pencil mustache that’s clearly been dyed, a cheap combover. I don’t even have the ability to use my nose and I can still smell the cologne off of him. I bet he thinks ordering a prostitute is the same thing as flirting with her. He’s nothing at all like my friend. Sure, he’s got bad manners but he’s kind and he listens to me! Well, he can’t hear me all the time. He said something about needing medication? I forget– But he listens to me sometimes!! That’s more than 99.9% of people!

Well, it’s not like I gave him much choice.

Hm? Is he calling someone? “Hey Doc, I’m gonna need more. I don’t need the lecture, you got it or not?” He seems frustrated? Maybe nervous?

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

The way he carries himself is so funny. Tall, blond hair, gray eyes, and real macho man if you ask me! Too serious for jokes! He walks like he has a stick up his backside! Hehe. 

Hey, do you have a girlfriend? What’s her name? Oh– maybe a boyfriend? What’s his name? Are you even able to keep one, if you had one? You’re way too serious, you need to lighten up! Hey, what are those things you called about? Hey, hey. Can you even hear me right now? I’m lonely.

“I don’t.”

Did I imagine that? Am I dreaming again? Did he respond to me? Ah– He was talking to someone. Of course, he hasn’t taken the magic yet. Please hurry! I’m awfully lonely, I’m scared I might start dreaming again. Oh, he shouldn’t have bumped into my friend like that. He’ll get angry!

“I said I don’t got cigarettes, man. Keep walkin’.”

Oh, was that all?

He really wasn’t talking to me. Are we almost there yet? Oh, we are. Every time he walks into that building I get a really weird sensation like he really shouldn’t be doing that. I just think that– He looks a little sad whenever he comes out of the building. Oh! There he is! Hey, where are we going now? 

“Address the corpo gave me is a hotel in the 4th Ward. Room number he gave me is 239. Somethin’ ‘bout seein’ her in some footage. Nah you’re good, they have physicals. Yeah. I’m just askin’ her for help again. Who’s the manager now? That grimestain Riley still kickin’, that right? Thanks.”

Talking to someone again– Hey what did you eat? Can I have some? Wonder who that could have been? Was that your boyfriend? Your girlfriend? Both of them, maybe? I can’t remember which one you said you had. Remember? Why can’t I remember anything again? I see– A flower! Err– How do you say one more of something? More of a flower? Flowers! They look so funny, like a bug with too many legs. I don’t know the name. It has a lot of pretty colors in it though! But, not this one. This one looks a little sad. Aw, that’s so sad. Do I really have to say goodbye? I miss my– Hm? What’s a pill? Oh, we’re here. What do you call this place again?

“I’m at the hotel. Yeah, can you get the check-in registry? Thanks.”

Stop ignoring me already! Take it, take it, take it already! Take the magic! Ah!! I miss you! I miss you! I want to talk to someone! Please talk to me!! Can you hear me yet?! It’s your fault I’m like this! You didn’t find me in time!! Talk to me! Talk to me! Talk to me!!!

“I know–”

You took it?! Can you hear me now? I missed you!

“I know you got the tapes. They keep them in the back with all their other blackmail. Need one from ‘bout ten years back. Date’s–”

“Wh-what? We don’t keep them that far back.”

He looks like a funny little weasel, doesn’t he?

“Date’s July 25th, PE2083. Thanks much.”

Ew– Sorry, I just didn’t think you knew how to smile. That made me extremely uncomfortable. I think you should stick to your stoic, no emotion, brooding, super duper serious face. That one doesn’t scare children– But it does scare the elderly– What?

“Like I told you, D, we don’t keep ‘em that far back.”

Uh oh, going for the gun again. I love this part! Yeah, pull him down and point it in his face! Yeah, yeah! He looks terrified! He’s shaking!!

“Look, I know a tall, lanky, flaky, greaseball who’s always lookin’ for an angle to line his pockets, just like yourself, would not work in an such a fine establishment as this one to get his life on the straight ‘n’ narrow– It’s, frankly, a little insultin’ that you would think that I would think that. So, let’s go on to the back where you keep the footage. Yeah?”

Wow, it worked again. Aw, don’t put the gun away. You should have kerblam’d him! I had a dream about you doing that one time. This room is weird, it has a bunch of screens. Who needs that many TVs?! It feels gross here. It’s sleazeball central. It just gives a huge ‘I’m a big huge gross pervert look here’ aura. Whoa, that’s so many movies on the shelf! Can I pick? I want to watch the one with the box. It’s supposed to be– Oh, I guess the weasel can pick one instead.

“Here, it’s this one.”

“Send it straight to my neuro, I’m in a rush. Need to see the room too.”

“I-I can’t send these to your ANNI, man. Th-they’ll kill me.”

“Lemme ask you this, Riley. What are you more afraid of? Me, about 30 seconds from now if you don’t send me the recording or who cares at some point in the future?”

Scary. I have never seen someone sit down faster. I think he could have won a competition for that incredible performance. “There, now get out of here– What the hell you doin’? Hah. Some things never change, eh, D?” Is that candy? Can I have some? Does it taste like the little red ones? You never share!

“Doc’s orders. Can’t do my job if I don’t. I’m goin’ up to that room now. Keep it unlocked and if there’s anyone in there, kick ‘em out now ‘cause if they’re still sleepin’ by the time I get there– I’m comin’ back down and giving you teeth for dinner.” Oh, we’re leaving. Bye, Mr. Weasel! I still think you should have shot him. Oh, this elevator is cozy. Are we moving? That feels weird. 

Hey, are you ignoring me?

“Nah, I’ve just been listenin’ to everything you’ve been sayin’.”

Do you have a favorite flower?

“I just need your help with somethin’. Might need you to talk to the girl that died in that room we’re goin’ to. I know you don’t like doin’ it ‘cause you always keep somethin’ but I really gotta know.”

The smell of a copper house. Hey, what’s “A-N-N-I” mean?

“Assisted Neurological Network Intelligence. You get implanted with one when you turn four. Interfaces directly with the Main Net.”

I don’t know what any of that means. I don’t remember asking. Wait– You responded!! You really can hear me now, can’t you?! Does that mean everyone else can hear me too?

“Nope, I’m still the only one that can hear you. Been hearin’ everything.”

Ding! I love that sound. Hey– It’s not my fault I don’t have a brain to think with! No, don’t walk away from me now. That was hurtful!

“Just need your help with another case. Might need you to talk to a friend.”

Fine, but only because it’s you asking. Ah! N-Not that anyone else asks me things! Hey, don’t ignore me by walking into the room. Not funny? Understood, sir!

Where are you putting your hand? Did you lose it? Did it keep your hand?!

“Just checkin’ the vent, nothin’ in there. Just a room. The hell? I’ve gotta check the footage. She must have been with someone. Can you see if there’s any spirits anywhere, Rika?”

There’s– no one here. It’s just an empty room, with a big bed that looks diseased. The curtains look like they’re yellowing, they haven’t been changed in so long. 

“The curtains don’t look like they’re yellowing. They look like they were just changed recently. Can you please just check–”

So many people. Think of a memory like the plastic over your grandma’s couch. Memories stick to so many things, some fade as people forget but as long as an experience was had– It lingers. Like– A ghost. So many memories in this room, they’re all over. So many happy moments. There’s so many more sad moments– Even more than that are tragic. Sometimes, in the right light, the layers give off what looks like a color. If it looks a little like the sky, it’s probably a good memory. If it looks like blood or darkness, that means it’s likely a violent memory. If, in the right light, these layers begin to distort into either green or yellow– Then it’s most definitely a horrible memory. It’s a memory filled with the pleasure of greed and misery. So, my detective, that curtain is certainly yellowing and there is no one here that can help you. 

Oh what are you watching?! You started it without me! 

“Three people walked into the room. I couldn’t make out their faces goin’ in, so we’ll get to see ‘em on the way out.”

Oh, you’ll make me blush! You said “we” for the first time today! Oh, there he is. Who’s that?

“I can only hear you, I can’t– That’s Doc. The hell? Only leaves his place if it’s one helluva payday. The other two don’t seem to come out for a while longer later.”

Hey. How are you supposed to get the context of the movie if you keep fast forwarding through it? I’m lost!

“I ain’t lookin’ at a hallway for the next two hours until they come out.”

Oh, look, the next guy is coming out. It didn’t even feel like two hours! They grow up so fast. Does he look purple to you? He looks purple to me.

“Nah, he don’t look too happy or violent.”

That’s not how it works– Purple is its own color on the rainbow, you know! You can be really rude sometimes. Why did you stop the movie?

“Oh, now she’s not funny. I know who that is. That’s Larry, and that’s one mean bastard.”

Huh? Is that your idea of a joke? He looks completely ordinary. He has the nerdiest combover I’ve ever seen. His glasses look so thick too! He’s so ordinary, his boss back at the office forgets he exists!!

“He’s the head honcho of the opium trade here. He looks like he ain’t much, but I swear that guy’ll rip a head off and hand deliver it to the grievin’ family at their closed casket funeral– There’s the girl. So the corpo did have somethin’. We’re leavin’, let’s go.”

Where have I seen that face? Why have I seen her face? How did I see her face? It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s like trying to remember something while you’re in a dream. As if I was walking in a heavy fog. Why is it so hard to remember? I’ve already forgotten what she looked like. Why is she so important? Why can you only see her? I want you to only look at me– You’re not allowed to look at anyone else. We can dream forever. Why won’t you ever stay with me? Take your medicine again. Take it again and again and again. Never go without it again. I don’t ever want to miss you again! Where are you?!

“Needa go to Doc’s. Nah, keep an eye on him for now. Told Riley, he should know I’m coming. I don’t want him running away so just keep an eye on ‘im.”

Always talking to someone else, you never pay attention to me anymore. I remember when you would talk to me all day. You could hardly ever leave me alone. I miss you. Take it again. Right now. Do it for me. You owe me!! Oh, we’re back at the place that makes you look sad. Why are we here? Can I come this time?

Why does it smell like that? It looks like something out of a movie. One of those really convenient ones where there’s a single chair with a bunch of lights and needles above it coincidentally for the main protagonist to get some super strong upgrade that will help them defeat the villain and win in the end. Boring. Why are all cybernetic enhancement surgeons all the same? Do they all have a meeting for a great way to make it look grimey but also just sanitary enough to perform surgeries without risk of infection?

“I don’t know nothin’, D.”

“I know you get your drugs from Larry. I don’t care why you never told me. Just wanna know where I can find ‘im.” Oh, candy. What flavor is that? Is it the cherry ones?! Those are my favorite! Can I have some?! That’s not fair, you don’t even chew on them! You just swallow it! It’s a waste of candy!

“You dumb, kid? You’ll just get yourself killed goin’ around askin’ questions. I’m just tryin’ to look out for ya like I always have–”

“Yeah, you were really lookin’ out for me. Where can I find ‘im?” He’s– He’s sad. Why are you sad? Did you miss me too?!

“Alright. Have it your way. He’s at his apartment in the city, the one just before you get into the 18th Ward. Big business. Just be careful, D. This is something I asked Larry ‘bout myself and he told me not to go around askin’ questions. You gotta cut back on the meds too, son.”

“You’re the one who sold ‘em to me, dad.”

Family is funny, isn’t it? We’re told they’re supposed to always be there for you. That’s why it hurts when they aren’t. When they are there, though, it feels as if you could really tackle what’s in the way. Of course, the surgeon isn’t even your real family. He only took the title after a very brutal incident. I never really saw my family as irreplaceable, my father sure thought I was dispensable– So why wouldn’t they be? That is to say, you should really never leave my side again. I’m all the family you need. Forget them all. Stay and dream forever–

“Nah, goin’ to the 18th Ward. Thanks, give the money to Doc. Yeah.”

You’re always talking to other people. I keep thinking about the girl. I’ve seen her before. Where have I seen her before? I’m starting to remember a little more than usual. It’s like buffering in the middle of a movie you really want to watch. What is a person, really though? Is it their actions and how others see them? Is it their memories? Personality? What if what makes a person is how they are remembered? That’s a funny way to think about it. Memories are so unreliable. Where do the dreams start and memories end? The line between the two can begin to blur so easily. Was she in a dream I had or was it a memory? I don’t know, but I know her. I don’t know but I have this feeling that she’s– Oh. we’re here. This looks like a really fancy apartment. What are those buttons near the door? Are those for ordering more candy? Oh, the door’s unlocked. So those buttons are for more candy!? Ah– Elevators feel weird. It’s like not moving and moving at the same time. Did we really need to come here?

“I gotta know.”

Don’t you already know though? You’re hiding a secret, Detective.

“I ain’t no detective.”

That’s what you got out of that? You keep avoiding it, I don’t know whether it’s out of guilt or you genuinely don’t care about it enough to talk about it. Are you just playing dumb or do you really not know? I can usually read you but not with this. Something deep, deep inside of you wants nothing to do with this.

“I’d rather be doing anythin’ else, you’re right. I’ve got a job though and I’m seein’ it through. The creds won’t be too bad either.”

Ding! Oh funny sound! Where are we now?

“Can you keep an eye out for me? Let me know if they’re lyin’ about anythin’, you can read that stuff way better than I can. Especially if they got heat.”

Why would I do that? It’s not like where you’re going is dangerous or anything– I’d know! Nothing bad at all happens in nice hotels like this. These places are probably the safest places in the world, my dad said so!

“Rika, I need you to do this for me.”

You need me?! Oh wait– You can hear me again! I’ll do it on one condition.

“What’s that? You’ve never had a condition before.”

Take more of the medicine right now.

“What? I can’t do that right now.”

It’ll wear off while we’re in there. I can’t look out for you if you don’t take more. I want you to take more for me– So I can look after you properly, that is. Oh wow you actually did it. You really do miss me when we’re apart. That makes me so incredibly happy! I’ll do anything you want at all!

“Yeah.”

Who is that guy? They look big. Not muscular big– Just fat. Incredible, I didn’t know people could grow to that size. They have natural built-in body armor, it’s way better than huge muscular bodybuilder guys. There’s only one guy but he definitely counts as bodyguards. This Larry guy has big bodyguards. An absolute unit. Fascinating individual.

“H-Hey–”

Are you laughing?!

“Hey, I’m here for Larry.”

“Name?”

“D.”

“That ain’t a name. That’s a letter. What’s your name?”

“Interesting that you’d repeat the question I just answered for you. Take me to your boss or I’m putting a bullet in the only empty place in your body– Right between the eyes, meathead.”

Uh-oh, he’s gonna get mad! Are you getting the gun?! Yes, good! Wait, my friend, natural body armor! Oh, the big guy looks riled up. Shouldn’t have mentioned meat like that, you should know better!

“Yeah, I’m rememberin’ a ‘D’ now. Pill popper, huge prick. PI. Larry said you were comin’ by soon.”

“So what are we doin’ here? Tryin’ to make out or somethin’? You takin’ me to Larry or not?”

“Weren’t kiddin’ ‘bout the huge prick part.”

“Least I can see it when I look down, Bob Richards.”

Well, at least he was nice enough to let us in anyway. You are really rude sometimes though.

“Hey, D. Long time no see. What brings you to my place of residence at this hour?” He’s weird. I don’t like this guy. He looks so plain. Just a normal guy. The most typical glasses-wearing, wage slave salaryman you’ve ever seen.

“Runnin’ a case for a corpo client. Good pay. Just wanted to ask you somethin’ you might know ‘bout.”

“Must be something pretty important to interrupt me while I’m conducting very important business.” He’s not really angry. He’s genuinely curious, maybe slightly annoyed but even then– Curiosity and guilt? The colors around him don’t shine properly. I think it’s too dark out to see it.

“July 25th, 2083. Heartbreak Hotel. Sleazy place. Don’t think you’d remember the name of the place but I think you may remember the girl’s name, Mei Ori.”

Huh? I’ve heard that name before. Actually, this whole place looks familiar. This expensive living room, from the giant TV on the wall to the couch that’s probably made of real, genuine leather and not the fake stuff they give to the poors. The chandelier that always looked eerie, like you could get lost just looking at it. I think it’s made of actual diamonds. The tacky, albeit expensive, tiles that barely match anything. Everything about this place looks and feels like what a poor person thinks a rich person needs. It feels disingenuous; a long con gamble to gain more subconscious leverage. “Hey, this guy is legit. Look at all this expensive stuff.” It’s revolting. It’s so utilitarian that I’m going to throw up. Not only is this guy so normal looking, the use of his time and money are just as basic. Gross.

“Why would a corpo be snooping around a ten year old case?”

“I don’t know if you know this, but sleazy hotels like that keep hard copies in the back. They use old camera security systems because it lets ‘em bypass the new mass surveillance laws–”

“Are you going to ask a question at some point? I’m quite busy, D. Who hired you?”

“July 25th, 2083. Girl found dead, no signs of entry or exit of the room. Ruled a suicide. I wanna know what happened.”

“Aren’t you a little close to this case?”

“Just answer.”

“And if I refuse?”

Oh, oh. Are you considering it? The gun? I can tell you how many of them there are and where they are. Are you really going to threaten the most powerful man in the city– I think the city is inaccurate, I’d say he has more leverage than the entire country. You could do it. Just take more medicine and I’ll get you out of here if you want to. You really could kill them all and take the millions. You could even run the country, the right way. This tragedy would never happen again under your watch.

Well, even if you didn’t live, you could dream with me forever.

“It’s for a client, it ain’t for me. If you don’t wanna give me answers, I just go back empty handed and I don’t get paid. That’s all there is to it, Larry.” Boo. You’re no fun.

“Was it Ori?”

“Client privilege, I’m afraid.”

“Fine, kid. You’ve done a lot for me so the least I could do is get you your hard earned pay day. I had an affair with the victim– Mei. This went on for months. I knew it had to stop eventually, I told her I’d come clean to my wife. She threatened me, saying if I didn’t continue this with her she’d tell my wife herself and ruin my marriage. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I told her I’d tell you about our affair, D. We got into an argument, Doctor Arc showed up for the location of a shipment. We continued our argument in and out for the night and then I left. She followed. Evidently, she went back to the hotel where she was then discovered. Once I got the news, I decided not to tell you as she was so distraught at just the idea.”

It’s funny the way memories work. Once you’re reminded of something, you can’t help but think about it all the time for a small while. Sometimes when it’s an even deeper memory, it makes your head feel kind of funny. Almost like you’re physically digging something out of your hippocampus. All I can feel is a searing pain– Not in my head, but in my chest. I remember it all so clearly and vividly now. Everything he’s saying is true, although I wish it wasn’t. That night she had decided that it was easier to die than to ever tell you. She didn’t want you to think any less of her, she loved you. She looked up to you, her savior. Always there when she called– The one night she couldn’t reach you–

Regret is a funny concept. You make a decision and deal with the outcome, and the outcome isn’t what you expect so you feel bad about the choice you originally made. What’s funny isn’t feeling bad about the decision, it’s that we would do anything to turn back the clock. Just the very desire of wanting to turn back the clock is hilarious. As if anything so divine would hear us and say, “Well maybe just this once.” The hubris of humanity is laughable. What do you regret? Would you turn it back if you could? What would you change? Would you even change anything to begin with? Go on, tell me a joke. I miss everything you could have been.

Where are we going now? You didn’t even ask to confirm the story. Was my confirmation enough for you? I remember everything from that night, seeing you up until I made the decision to end it. I had been nothing but miserable– But you were a light in my life. You had lost someone before, I think you felt that sometimes I was all you had left. Did it hurt when I died? I’m sorry–

It was then that it all made sense. Her childlike obsession and his addiction. With nothing else to cling to, she attached herself to the medicine. He could not move on, so he attached them to his medicine. A never ending cycle of relapse. It wasn’t out of pleasure that he did these things, it was guilt– A punishment. It felt good, he wanted to stop. A medicine that could help you talk to the dead is a fantasy. He took it to numb the pain from never being able to move on. He took advantage of the innocence of his childhood friend. She could not move onto the afterlife without her soulmate– He could not move on with the pain, so he sold his soul.

A medicine that could help you talk to the dead is just–

Punishment.

We met the sleazeball again, my friend explained the whole thing and using me for proof, he got a payday. He was rich and he could finally leave. And so he did, I haven’t seen him in a while. I finally remember it all. The fog has been cleared, but the pain remains. I thought finding out would help me move on but– What?! There you are! What are you doing on the water tower?! Why are you playing with that? You shouldn’t spin it like that, you’ll hurt yourself! Oh, you can’t hear me, can you?

“I can always hear you.”

You took the medicine?! For me? Really?!

“Somethin’ like that.”

Memories are funny aren’t they? I remember that I’m Mei now but there’s these other memories, they stop after a certain point and then my memories begin– Huh? You’re still taking those?

“I lied to get the money. You keep the memories of the people you reach out to, but only the ones that have already moved into the afterlife. I had you talk to Mei a lot. I didn’t even ask her ‘bout what happened. I was just a dumb kid. I’m sorry, Rika, but that ain’t you. I lost you way before I lost Mei. You were someone I knew when we were kids. My family has a history of being able to talk to the dead and you were so attached to me that you couldn’t move on. I’m just addicted to painkillers, ‘cuz it was so hard to pretend to not know you so you wouldn’t accidentally move on. I needed one of you here. I’m just racin’ to my death at this point.”

That’s the most he’s ever spoken to me. He’s telling the truth. So who am I? What really makes a person? I want him to die. I want to spend the rest of our afterlife together. I want you to stop taking the pills. You need to live a long life. The memories become fuzzy, like a jigsaw puzzle that was just smashed. Scattered. What makes a person? The memories don’t seem to make up a person. I’ve got a lot of them. I still don’t know who I am.

Dying really is just walking in a circle. You can’t make any progress once you pass on. It’s walking the same block, over and over. I’m insane for trying so hard to be something that isn’t dead. The dead can’t improve, or change. All of that ended as soon as we stopped breathing. I suppose I do feel stuck.

Turning back the clock is impossible. I’m listing regrets, you made that list. I want you to be better, but you can’t leave me. If I’m stuck, then so are you. You don’t get to leave me. So race to your death faster, I can’t help who I am but you can. For as long as you don’t leave me, your addiction will only get worse. It’s important to let go. You’re more than the punishment you’ve given yourself.

I’m begging you to let me go.

None of it makes sense. What was the point of it all? If time really is a flat circle, then what’s the point? If we’re back where we started, why take the path to begin with? What cruel god decided this was the way the world works? Take more, take more, take more, take more. Take more!!!

Dreams are so hard to navigate. It’s all foggy and distant. Something I want to say, but I can’t. I don’t remember the words. So what do you think dying feels like? I’d say it’s a mixture.

What was the point of it all? I don’t think there’s supposed to be one. Things just happen. Sometimes, in the end, none of it makes sense. It’s just one story after another after another until you can find meaning in something. Sometimes– A lot of the time, rather, it’s just another story to share. A story to tell. It’s important to let go and not stay attached to a painful past. You’ll just end up going in circles, reliving the same pain. A self-fulfilling prophecy. So let go and keep walking forward. Don’t turn for even a minute. If you feel stuck, you may want to reevaluate.

You may very well just be dead.

Maze

Before me stands a keeper. He guards the gate, barring me from freedom. They’re coming for me, I must escape. Every day, I pray and ask for admittance to my right to the outside. He only responds, “It is possible. However, I should warn you. If you get around me, then you will have to deal with the second guard down the hall. He is worse than me. If you get past him, the third guard is even more terrible than either of us.” So I sink to the floor with knees to my chest. Hoping to be let into freedom. I count each individual speck in the walls and floor, with dread that they will find me in this place forsaken by the divine. Suffocating in the solitude, my woe is unmatched even by the lowest. Freedom should be accessible at all times, so why then must you impede me?

They keep me awake. They say awful, terrible, truly horrendous things to me. They say I’m an evil man– they keep telling me I hurt people. I couldn’t hurt people. I’m not that kind of person, it must be a case of mistaken identity! Yes, that must be it! Of course, what else could possibly make more sense than this? The keepers must understand, yes, that I must get away from them. They are in the shadows, preying– waiting to get me. They tell me to eat a cherry, for every cherry that I eat, the clock resets. They stare at me, with their beady eyes. Their tall, thin demeanor only accentuates my anxiety. They don’t blink, they watch me all the time. They tell me something is coming for me– The keepers must understand me! I tell the keepers to release me at once as surely they have the wrong person! But– they laugh, a great hearty chuckle. They don’t explain, rather they get far more aggressive after they’ve had their fill. They rattle the bars, this cage, and it angers the shadows. The sounds of their metal rods against the steel bars disturb their peace– Their sleeping cycles. I beg and I beg, pleading with the keepers with my hands on the old, rusty bars that scratch the palms of my hands. This only aggravates them more, yelling obscenities as I curl up into a ball. I fear the shadows may get me before the keepers do.

I overheard the keepers, they were quite a way from my confinement– I could only make out one sentence as it was shouted and it seemed to have carried much excitement. “Only two more nights until retribution.” What does this retribution have to do with me? What must have I done? I’m innocent, of course! I did not hurt anyone– The shadows tell me it is time for rest, that I will only panic in this state of unrest–

And so he slumbers, in the coldness of a crypt he seemed not too dissimilar with. Deep underground, confined to a space no bigger than six by nine feet. Water droplets slid down the bricks, making a muffled, yet audible, thud onto a small cot that was laid out for him in the corner. One might smell the mustiness from the wet sheets made of cloth. The sheets evidently have not been washed for even longer before he arrived. Is a moist, musty cot better than cold concrete? It’s not as if he would use it whatsoever, the concrete reminded him of childhood. The comfort of home made the bleak future seem all that much more distant and improbable. The night rained, almost as if it were crying for a tragedy. The tragedy wasn’t his incarceration, no, the night cried out in pain for those taken too soon. The sun rose, though he wouldn’t be able to tell because he has not seen the sun in months, maybe years. Time dilates, going forever and ever, time is now lost. The slumber goes on no longer.

“What are you doing sleeping on the floor? You’ll turn into a bug if you do that.”

Awake, in sudden and quick fashion. How long was I asleep? Does time turn down here? They’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming– I’m on my knees, hands up against the rust bars once more as I shout at the keepers, “Please let me out! I have to go, they’re going to get me! Please, oh please!” I shake the cage, making as much noise as possible. I plead, beg, and shout with helplessness. They are coming for me, the shadows want me gone. I could hear them, telling me to get away again. It’s an endless, ruthless cycle for as long as I have been stuck in here. How long has it been? I need to get out, they will be here soon. They want me for my memories. They hold the key to the universe, it’s far too important to be caged up here! “LET ME OUT!”

A keeper shouts at me to be quiet from what felt like all the way across the complex, his footsteps drew nearer and nearer until he stood in front of me, looking down at me. He told me to keep it down, that if I were to continue making noise, he would push the date forward. Perplexed, he asked what it was that I was so worried about. The shadow government comes, they have sent angels after me for my many apparent sins I explained. I once asked what these sins were, as I would never do such a thing to defile the pureness of faith. The seraphs chase me, in pursuit of a knowledge I cannot give. Blinded by their light, I have found myself surrounded in darkness. Has my faith abandoned me? Has my nerve? The balance remains upon my shoulders, as heavy as anvils. I have become steeled– I would not hurt anyone, I continued to explain to the guard, pleading once more that if I am not released the universe will surely suffer for it. The shadows mock me for my pleading and begging. They call it useless, the enemy could never understand. Surely, the keepers are neutral in this debacle. The Law has to be, surely.

The keeper knelt down, ensuring that I would see him more clearly. His uniform had more medallions and ribbons than I initially noticed. He noted my beady eyes, which is something that I should not be blamed for. I have been stuck down here for far longer than any human should be reasonably kept. He looked as if he had never been outside a day in his life, as if the feeling of a lawn was completely foreign to him; Something he had never seen or done in his life, as if he had been stuck down here himself the whole time. His skin was beyond pale, it was a light source in and of itself. “We will have your knowledge.” is the only sentence he spoke to me. It confirmed everything I had feared. They are here. I have to get away. I have to flee. I have to get out. I have to leave!! My heart is racing. What if they get me? I can’t breathe. I have to get out. I can’t breathe. They’re going to kill me. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. They’re coming for me. Why does everything look all blurry?! Did they get me already?! I can’t see– I can’t breathe– I inhale and I inhale– I’m waiting for the exhale. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I can hear my heart, if I can hear it then they can hear it. There’s knots in my neck, back, chest, and throat. They’re going to find me. I have to get out!!

It is here that he seems to not record the events into his hippocampus. The knots in his throat, chest, and stomach became too much to bear. He overdosed on his anxiety. His panic became too much, even for the keeper who seemed to be nowhere in sight. His strength became that of legends for he pushed the cage’s door open, as if it had never been locked to begin with. Even stranger still, there was no sign of the keeper. A completely untouched room, with no footprints besides his own. A coincidence should never be ignored, unless you are busy that is. The speed at which he sprinted was a shocking, lightning speed. He knew not where he was going, only that he must go. Instinct before rationale– he ran down the hall that now faced directly in front of him. He pushed with his right arm against what felt like people. Once that arm has tired, he pushes with his left, carving his way through the people. He ran and he ran, but it made no difference. When met with resistance, he would growl like a rabid wolf ready to strike. He made his way, faster and faster, as he felt he made progress he could taste the freedom. Freedom had a sweet and pleasantly tart taste. It made whatever was in his way afraid, all the dirt and filth that clung to him frightened; he no longer looked human. He scurried, jumped, and ran at full speed. It must have felt like no time at all, running for twenty minutes straight. He went far and the adrenaline took him even farther still. The shadows and seraphs felt nearer and nearer. If he could just make it to the outer fields, then he would be free at last. Certainly, he would run faster than any animal. Though, he is only in the deepest block of the complex he is in. Never, under any circumstance, will he reach the end of it; Even if he succeeded nothing would be accomplished; he must confront those up the stairs into the main building; even if he succeeded nothing would be gained; the courtyard still needs to be crossed; after the courtyard, there is still the secondary building; even still, there are courtyards and winding staircases; once again another block of rooms; it goes on for a thousand years; and if, by some truly divine miracle, he were to make it to the end of his journey– though that mustn’t, under any circumstance, ever happen– his freedom would then be earned. He would find himself at the end of the world– it’s very edge. The definition of insanity is to do the same action repeatedly while expecting the result to be different. Nobody, not even he, could avoid punishment from his creator.

Afterword

It’s nice to meet you! I’m Radio, the author. Thank you so much for reading!

This project has been on my mind for the longest time growing up. A lot of these had been half written, changed, rewritten, and undone several times in my head. These themes and topics have been extremely important to me for a long time. There are a few newer ideas in here, I’m sure you can guess which ones, but all in all I think I’m happy with how it came out. I’m still an amateur so I hope it was enjoyable, at the very least! I really put all my effort into this. It’s funny, I don’t think I’ve ever been too good with words and I chose to write as my creative outlet. I tried really hard to capture a “dream” and “gazey” feel to the entire project. I think in general, the kind of “dreamy” and “shoegaze” is underutilized in media as a whole and it’s a vibe I totally love and want to do more in that realm. More people should do it, I feel. I hope I managed it well!

A couple of quick thoughts on the stories, in order:

Monochrome Rainbow: I’ve had that conversation in my head a few times, but once I got to writing it; it just wrote itself. I think the idea of the main character going on this spiral downward was fascinating and I just had to follow the train of thought. I’ve always felt like apathy is something never really talked about and I think it’s an interesting topic to really delve into. I love using color as a theme to express emotion!

Weighted Words: This one’s a bit heavier for me. I wasn’t exactly sure on the exact background of the world to begin with on this one, but I think it turned out fine! It’s a bit cheesy with the world but I thought it helped get the point across. It took me a bit longer to write that one, I constantly had to “come up for air” on this one. There is also a very hyper specific detail with the format of the story that I think is a little too subtle for most people to get, maybe I’ll reveal that one day. This one was written almost entirely to I Didn’t Mean to Haunt You.

Velvet Egg: This one was really fun to write! I spent whole nights writing, changing it up, the story more or less looks completely different from my original vision for it and I love the way it turned out. This was actually my first attempt at writing any type of horror! I tried really hard to get the psychological aspect of it across, I hope it stuck the landing! I might want to try to write a little more horror stories from here on.

Melodies: Well, that’s embarrassing. I hope you liked it. It was written entirely with you in mind. This whole project is named after you, actually. This one was written almost entirely to a playlist of love songs. There’s actually two or three versions of this story. I couldn’t decide which one to use but in the end, the one I chose fit the best to the rest of the collection. I wonder if any of the reworded lyrics were caught, music played a big part in its creation.

Dreams in Tomb: This one was really hard to write! This took me about two weeks and it’s entirely different from my original vision. It was originally intended to be a murder mystery but I couldn’t figure out a way to make it work with the flipping of narrators. I may revisit the original vision for it and thoroughly plan it out, I really love this story in the end as well. I just hope it wasn’t too hard to follow with the narrator being unreliable and the total tonal shift midway through. I think it adds to it, but I feel like this one might be one of the weaker ones or just harder to follow in general.

Maze: Franz Kafka, my beloved. I tried really hard to write this one Kafkaesque– I don’t think I landed it quite so well, though. I like the story, but it may be a far cry from anything Kafkaesque. It was a challenge to write this one as well, but I think it’s fun! All in all, we can’t escape destiny.

There is an excerpt at the bottom for a potentially larger piece of writing, it served as a sort of prototype to Monochrome Rainbow. I don’t know that I’ll ever finish it, but it is a piece of writing from my scrapyard that deserved to be put out there, I feel. It’s not the most polished or coherent, but maybe there’s something in there as catharsis.

I hope to write a lot more and release a whole lot more after this. I’ve already got some ideas in mind for my next project, hopefully it’s longer but I really enjoyed this whole process! I hope you stick around!

Radio

no one is coming to save you

It starts with happiness, but then I suppose it always does. I say “always” in that everything begins with the positive feeling. It’s what we start off with. Nothing but unbridled joy. Ignorance is bliss. Something happens eventually, be it sooner or later, and we learn that it’s not always joy. It then becomes something to reach, to climb to– yearn for, even. Happiness. A basic idea that anyone could get right. That is, except for me. I don’t remember what it is even supposed to feel like. I’m just doing guesswork, very shotty guesswork but it’s an attempt nonetheless. Does it make you feel good? Well, then I guess you must be experiencing happiness. I can go on and on about the bad feelings. I know what those are supposed to feel like to me very well. But even that unbridled joy, I don’t think I ever really felt. I always felt like something was missing. I never really understood what it is, I still don’t. I’m writing in hopes that I find it, at least to some extent.

I’ve always had trouble empathizing, but there was also no trouble at all. I understood that I felt sorry, but I don’t think I understood the why of it. I was mimicking their reaction to it, if it made them feel bad, it made me feel bad. Why did it make them feel bad? The answer is probably something along the lines of, “Well it depends on the context.” None of the context mattered, I still didn’t get it. I just knew that whatever it was, it was bad. I suppose people figured this meant that I could feel bad and still be able to think about something in a matter of fact way. They thought that I could help them, save them in some cases. So that’s what I did. I just helped where I could because if I couldn’t have a connection, I could at least be used to help someone in some way. So people came and they went, pretended to be something to me and then threw me away when they got their help. I got really good at burying it all.

I don’t think I ever wanted that though. I think I just wanted to be saved. I wanted to be told that there’s nothing broken in me, that it’s okay. It could be anyone– that understood. I don’t think anyone really noticed. I guess I got really good at hiding it too.

I just wanted someone to save me.

I’m writing this to you, at the very end, because I don’t know how else to describe what I’m feeling. I’ve told you about it, but I don’t think you quite realize the extent. I understand that there are people to hold my hand– I quite understand that. I just can’t grasp the idea that someone would be there to hold my hand. There aren’t words that exist that can describe this utter feeling of loneliness. I’ve been searching for these words since I learned how to use them. What’s the purpose of this, do you think? Is it taught? Was I cursed by the divine in some way to feel this way? I must have done something truly cruel to endure this unending and indescribable loss of a self. Though, is it really a loss if you never knew yourself in the first place? I’m alone because I don’t know who I was meant to be to begin with, I’ve only ever known the void I came in as.

“Alone.”

What’s that famous quote? “I think, therefore I am?”

Well, I think I’m alone so I am, right? 

“You” are you. I am “me.”

I’m writing this to you as a plea, don’t neglect me because you’re all I have. Don’t go, because this loneliness is comforting. It’s all I know– and there’s no place like home.

You’re my home. I need to be saved, so won’t you answer my plea for help? I know you can’t save me. I know you’re not coming to save me.

“You.”

                                                                                                      “Me.”

I think about that a lot. In the end, I’m alone. This feeling will never go away. In His righteousness, God decided that I should be alone. Even with someone– that I am alone. 

Therefore, loneliness is righteous. Amen.

I write this to you because I’m lost. I have been lost for a long time. A soul misplaced, stuck in an illusion that tells me I’m found. Reality peeks through, giving a pain in my chest that’s become a warm memory. I write this because I now know:

No one is coming to save me.