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Apologies for not being able to write yesterday's entry, but I was hugely busy and didn't have time to sit and think. I'm sure the memories of the last blog and the picture of Justin will fade with time and therapy.
Anyhow, yesterday I was trashing my room in search of a book that I wanted to read. Whilst the search for the book was fruitless, I did uncover an old notebook of mine. Thought I'd share a piece of writing that I found inside.
I'll probably share another piece tomorrow, to save myself the extra effort of thinking of something.
This piece is title-less and was written for a potential art film. It never got made. The whole thing is very dark.
Death stalks me. The cloak of darkness swallowing me into its eternal rest.
Three guards run above me, searching, out for blood. Hounds, sniffing, wanting to sink their fangs into innocence. Sweat drips, like blood from a wound, thick, rancid.
I stop breathing, terrified that the simple act of keeping myself alive will lead to my death. I want to cough. My body betraying me. I'm my own Judas, sticking a knife into my own back.
I swallow hard and above me they stop. Oh god. Whispered angry words, fists clenched, guns at the ready. Their ears prick, they hear their rabbit. They search harder. I curl tighter.
My mind wanders away from this place, to happier times, past memories. Flowered fields with lovers, sunsets on beaches, a baby in my arms. They become tainted, dripping red with poisoned blood. The flowers rot and the lover grows old, wrinkled and bitter. The sun sets but never rises, and the monsters in the shadows creep closer, grow stronger, take over. The baby in my arms stops breathing and a hysterical mother cries and blames for her tears, for taking away her life. And it is my fault, the simple act of holding the unprotected infant, new to our world, transfers my black fortune into its skin, its lungs, its heart.
My eyes open, to escape the nightmare of my daydreams, but I find myself in the nightmare of reality: dark, cold, unrelenting. My pursuers are closer now, faces to the floorboards. I worry that the whites in my eyes will shine through the darkness, a sparkling flare revealing my location, another betrayal from my body. But they are bloodshot, from insomnia, the stop start of tears and the dirt and dust in the room. I am camouflaged in the black, darkness personified.
A rat trundles close to my foot, comfortable in the damp, mocking me because I'm not. Its beady eyes are filled with contempt for me, my cowardice. I am the mouse as he stands tall above me. He goes where he wants, unfazed by predators, bullets or death. I crouch in the shadows, paralysed by a thick, white, suffocating fear. He turns, his tail offering me one last living touch, his mouth, his squeak, sentencing me to death. The floorboards are pulled up.
I close my eyes, hard as I can until they hurt. I want to escape to my nightmare dream world, the rotting flowers and the dead baby glorious when compared to real pain, real tears, real death. But my hands are restrained, and so is my mind, trapping me into these real emotions. I am claustrophobic in my own body, unable to flee the shouting from foreign devils, the kicks, the blood, the inevitability of a new world filled with horror.
It is unbearable and I shut off. If I can't escape to fake realities, I will escape to nothing. Walls and floors and people don't exist where I go. Just nothing. Miles and acres and metres of nothing. Black. And then I see the rat again.
Imaginary, he stares at me still, unmoving. He says everything in his gaze. He looks back through my childhood, the life lessons that I learned. My first kiss, sweet and terrifying all at once. Leaving home, my future stretching ahead of me, a long, winding road. To now, this moment, when my future has transformed, a walled alleyway, dank and musty, a dead end. And the rat says nothing and everything all at once, the wall crumbles to dust and I open my eyes.
So that's it. Told you it was dark. Just a little depressing too.
I'm not sure if this was meant to be the end, or whether I just got bored. Although I do have a feeling that he is now dead, and that the last paragraph was his life flashing before his eyes. Either way, the current ending stays.
Also, sorry for the abundance of commas, but that was the way it is written in my notebook. And I had to make up for Emma's lack of them.
Have Fun
:D
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