That guy: Beep

That semi-fallacy of living. Pushing with so much effort.

I charge on, gasping for air, burning my body to nothing.

The tiny little annoyances in my ears bring me into the zone. My comfort, my pain, my skill, shivers in my spine. My hands clench. I can feel my back tighten, my legs seize.

and here we go



I sit recovering. Worn. Beaten.

And that hellacious beep.
It wont stop.


But then.
It doesn't have to.
Because the world does.


Sometimes it's nice to remember what living is like.

:)

Doug: Do ya?

“You ever get that feeling?” he asked, cocking his head in an odd direction, eyes focused far away, as if they saw something no one else in the room could see.

“That feeling, that, well, you just want to strangle EVERYONE around you?” a hint of life comes back to the eyes. But it is not life in the way normal people think of life. There is no hope here, nor friendship, or kinship, or any of those other ships. The life in these eyes is sort of a manic glee, a horrible joy that sends shivers and chills down your spine.

He refocuses, swinging his head around the room. “Strangling someone is really satisfying. It’s so personal. All you have to do is grab the windpipe and squeeze.” His voice changes with the last word, deeper, huskier, putting a lot of emphasis on it. “Too bad it’s not really a spectator sport.”

“There are other satisfying things too. Like baseball bats… and crow bars. You gotta love the solid sound that makes when it hits something soft on the outside but with a crunchy center. Like an arm. Or a leg. Or a skull. I love the hollow sounds skulls make.” He has gotten up from his reclined position, and is prancing around the room, feet carefully avoiding dark red puddles.

“I’m not sure what I love best. The tactile feelings, or the lovely sounds.” He frowns. “But nothing that comes out of the mouth. No one ever has anything USEFUL to say… It’s all: Please no! or threats.” The frown deepens. “Or they invoke some god or another…”

Finally, a shrug and the smile returns. “Oh well, no one ever comes to help out.” He looks over to a huddled form in the corner. Wrists tied, head cast down, shaking uncontrollably.

“You ever get that feeling?” The Philosopher sidled up to the Prisoner smiling uncomfortably. “Do ya?”

The Prisoner looks up, catches sight of the other bodies tied to the wall all around the room and vomits on the Philosopher’s bare feet. His grin widens.

“I liked those shoes.”

“No.” the Prisoner manages to choke out through the bile.

“No what?” The Philosopher is examining his feet bare feet. “I really liked these shoes.”

“No. I never get that urge.” The Prisoner looks up, bile dripping from the grim line that is his mouth. One eyeball is gone, and his features are hard to distinguish under the swelling. The look on his one eyed face is defiant though. “Just get it over with you sick bastard.”

“I’m not the sick one.” The Philosopher said, “You’re the one who vomits on people’s shoes.” He then formed his right hand into a scoop and grabbed the Prisoner’s long hair with his left hand. “I may pickle this one. I like the color.” The scooped hand plunges forward.

Screaming accompanied by a wet tearing sound.

The Philospher steps back, plugging his left ear with his free hand, the right holds something spherical and dripping. “Can’t you stop doing that? Ugh. This is why I hate forgetting the duct tape.”

The screaming just continued unabated. Finally, the Philosopher, quick as a snake, snapped his left hand out to the Prisoner’s neck and squeezed.

The screaming cut off, followed by the sounds of a scuffle as the Prisoner struggled against his bonds. Finally he quieted down just as the life was extinguished from his body. The Philosopher dropped the hand. “I was hoping to save you for a little bit longer…”

He sighed deeply, then looked down at the eyeball in his hand, the brown eye gazed back at him unblinkingly, almost quizzically.

“No one understands me.”

He tossed the eyeball at its former body and surveyed the gore spattered room. Eight bodies, four males and four females, all completely naked, all in various states of carnage, lined the walls. He took his time, looking at all of the individually, enjoying his masterpieces.

A half hour later, he splashed gasoline like a painter, struck a match with a flourish, and left.

“No one understands me.”

-Doug

"Torture mothafucka, torture."
Wu-Tang Clan

Meghan: Hell?

She stretched the muscles in her hands and arms elegantly, light gleaming off of her skin in a slippery glow.
“One more time?”
The girl she was addressing hung limply on a wall, suspended by coarse rope. She spat out a mouthful of blood in reply, “Go to hell.”
The glowing girl danced with laughter, heartbreakingly beautiful and a sharp contrast to the other; battered, broken, and bleeding.
“But Anabelle, we’re already there.”
“Don’t call me that.”
The glowing girl drew her fist back as if to strike her and Anabelle flinched away, but she just reached forward to stroke her cheek.
“You’d prefer I call you that blunted name, Ana? You have a beautiful name, and I will use the whole thing.”
Anabelle’s jaw rippled in anger and the glowing creature kissed it.
“Mmm, I love the taste of rage.”
Quick as a snake, Anabelle’s head darted forward but her teeth only clicked on the empty air where the creature’s throat had been.
Smiling, the glowing thing grabbed her face in one of its hands and smashed her skull on the stone wall behind her. Anabelle gasped as pain burst in her head and eyes, feeling the barest trickle of blood running down her back.
Again, again, and again her head was bashed against the wall, while she could only choke and bleed, not even having the strength to pull at the bonds that held her upright.
Then the pounding stopped and she was left to hang while the thing looked at her, smiling.
“Don’t worry, you won’t die.”
She tried to fit her lips into an answer but words seemed like a faraway dream.
“Wh-who?”
“Who what?”
“You.”
“Who am I?” another bright laugh, “Darling, I should think that’s obvious?”
“Hell, you said. Hell?” Anabelle’s vision was starting to clear, “Are you the devil?”
“Hmmm…well I wouldn’t say that’s an incorrect statement. The religious symbols are so hard to keep track of these days…”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Well—“
“Why am I here, I don’t understand! Why—“
Anabelle froze as the devil’s fist flew at her face again. This time it didn’t stop and she closed her eyes and prepared for pain. But when she opened her eyes she saw the being’s fist buried in the wall next to her head, stuck to the wrist.
“If you could just wait.” She said softly, “I will tell you.”
Anabelle swallowed and the thing extracted its hand from the stone.
“You’re here because it’s what you want, love.”
Anabelle’s mouth worked in confusion and horror, unable to reply.
The devil slid her arms around the girl’s waist, “You were such a good girl, weren’t you? Always helping people. And then your life on earth ended protecting the life of another. Such a sacrifice is not taken lightly here, and we are prepared to give you your worth in happiness.”
“But that’s heaven,” spluttered Anabelle, “What you’re talking about isn’t hell.”
“Oh.” The glowing thing looked around the room, “Perhaps I mixed up my words. Your religions are very confusing.”
“This can’t be heaven.” Anabelle argued.
“Why not?”
She half laughed, half cried, “Then you’d be an angel?”
“I suppose so.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“Heaven is supposed to be full of happy things, not pain and…” she looked away
“Pain is not happy?”
“No.”
The angel slapped her across the face and the sting of it rippled through her mind.
She gripped Anabelle’s jaw in her hand and raised her face to meet her eyes, “You can lie to yourself all that you want Ana, but don’t you dare lie to me. I can see into your soul, you are my charge and this is your heaven, whether you like it or not.”
Anabelle panted and stared into the flaming eyes of her captor, “Call me Anabelle.”
The angel smiled,
And drew back her fist.


-Meghan

Sarah: Find it On Your Own

The sun set on the city of Albuquerque, in the way it does to turn the Sandia mountains a soft shade of pink against the dimming deep blue sky. Down at the Century Rio 24 Theatre everyone from young children to lovers to seniors entered and left, as the movies played. Around the city middle-aged men were in for another late night at the office. Cars milled about the road in a way that makes the city look like a well oiled machine ready for a break. Mothers and children walked home from the park. Tables were set for dinner. Grade schoolers returned home from grabbing a Keva, or Starbucks, or playing video games, with their friends. It was dusk.

Jasmine sat on the bed in her apartment. With her cat constantly acting as a distraction, she attempted to read and work on homework. Another Dawson's Creek episode played across her computer screen. Then she ate, fed Loki, chatted online with loved ones, and fell asleep.

Across town, Abe sat behind the counter of a Fedex Office store. He texted his girlfriend while they both worked. A regular was using the internet. He looked up from the quiet desk, while laminating a few cards. A customer came in for copies and to ship a package. He tended to him like he tended to all the other customers. As the man left, he could see Abe through the window, laminating and texting.

Sirens wailed; it was a typical busy night. At least that's what Sarah figured from inside her cozy gated apartment. After hanging out with her boyfriend, she decided to shove off homework and watch an episode of Veronica Mars. Three episodes later, her quiet roommate told her that she was going to bed. Sarah stayed awake, watching.

Somewhere, thousands of miles from the city, Meghan was fast asleep with her cat. Raleigh, N.C., although a busy city, became a quiet and still as the sun fell. Meghan has an important exam the next day. Books were spread across the floor along with an empty cup of tea and a tea pot. In a few hours, she will wake up, study, and head to class pencil in hand.

On the opposite side of the country, Douglas stands in the kitchen of his apartment. The rain is pouring in Seattle. He is hungry. Like most college students, he pulled some noodles from his cabinet, boiled them, and opened the Prego. He thought of his mother's cooking briefly, then finished off a bowl of easily made spaghetti and marinara. His roommates were in the living room watching a movie, trying to relax after the rainy, albeit, busy day.

As each of these five actively or passively lives their lives, the end of the day for each of them signals only one more day passed and one more day to come. The setting sun holds no promises, no opportunity, no fate, and no large significance. These, they will have to find on their own.

Jasmine: Wolves

“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”

“Stop that”

“Why? The other team has a chant why shouldn’t we?”

“It’s a science Olympiad competition and they’re reciting pi…”

“Mine is better.”

“Yours is terrifying”

“exactly. Better”

“No not…”

“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”

“Why’d you do that again.”

“Archie took first in Robot Rumble”

“You shouldn’t do that.”

“But look he’s smiling at us.”

“That would be glaring… at you…”

“Naw”

“See all those other people glaring at us... right there”

“Yep”

“It’s a Christian academy”

“Yep”

“It’s our Christian academy”

“Yep”

“You don’t see anything wrong with this”

“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”

“There is no talking to you isn’t there”

“I think you guys are just hypocrites. The teachers preach to us about how we should be who we are and when I do just that you scold me for it”

“It’s not just the religious thing, we do try and keep kind of a low profile around here”

“Really because everyone I talked to here seemed to know”

“Who’d you talk to?”

“Relax. I didn’t tell anyone”

“Tell them what?”

“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”

Meghan: The curse of Heron Lake

Her eyes scanned over the computer screen as her fingers clicked through the endless online pages. She could feel her eyes glazing as the information shifted by. The sharp pinch of an insect bite flared in her neck and she slapped her hand at it. Another hand glided through her slapping fingers and her roommate kissed her on the head.
“You’ve been working forever,” the interrupter grumbled, “Don’t you need things like food and water occasionally?”
“What’s food?” the girl said as she continued clicking.
“If you die clenched to your keypad, eyes locked to the screen, I’m going to make fun of you forever.”
“Meghan, you know I have to finish these applications before school starts.”
“I know that, but school is weeks off, so you can take a break now.”
The girl at the computer sighed and frowned at the screen. It did look a little fuzzy; maybe she should take a break. She stretched and stood up from her chair, only to stagger and have to catch herself on the desk.
“Wha…?”
Meghan felt the pulse in her roommate’s wrist as she sat back down in the chair.
“Good, everything’s good.”
“Wha…you..?”
“Jasmine, I have something to tell you. No, I haven’t suddenly developed homicidal tendencies; don’t look at me like that. We’re going on a vacation!” She smiled at her angry, paralyzed roommate, “Aren’t you excited? Yes, I knew you would be. Don’t worry, everything’s packed, and I have everyone else, we just need to get down to the van.”
Jasmine could only twitch mildly in frustration as Meghan lifted her over her shoulder and carried her down the steps outside the apartment to the parking lot. She waved cheerily at the neighbors, who, used to the strange antics of the people next door, simply smiled and waved back. Jasmine’s last memory before she passed out was of three other vaguely people-like shapes seat-belted into the van with her, all with black bags over their heads.

Doug’s eyes felt heavy, almost as if their insides had been coated with lead and he had to drag his eyelids open. The first thing he saw was a bright patch of sunlight, making him groan and throw a hand over his face. He pulled the sleeping bag over his eyes to hide the burning light, but started when he felt the material in his hands. A sleeping bag? What the fuck? He tore open the bag and sat up, trying to hear and see everything at once. He had fallen asleep in his bed in Albuquerque only to wake up in some strange sleeping bag. He looked to his left and got another mini heart attack when he saw the girl twisted up in blankets next to him, blonde hair thrown over her face. For a millisecond he wondered at what terrifying amounts of alcohol had been somehow slipped to him secretively, but with a sigh of relief he smoothed back the hair from the girl’s face, recognizing Jasmine. He looked to his right and saw that the person curled up there was Meghan. He felt Jasmine stir under his fingers and kissed her.
“Good Morning.”
“Kill.”
“Ah…not the greeting I expected.”
Jasmine blinked her heavy lidded eyes, and tried to crawl over him to Meghan, “I’m going to kill her.”
He caught her still partially sedated body in his arms and held her back, “Wait, wait, bad dream?”
“No. She. Drugged. Me.”
“Meghan?” He laughed, “She wouldn’t do…that…” He glanced at her, “Probably.”
“Well she did. And now I’m going to kill her.”
While the battle was taking place on the other side of the tent, Meghan opened her eyes and stretched.
When the other two turned to her, she smiled and asked, “Did you sleep well?”
Doug blocked Jasmine’s flying tackle just in time, and asked over her death threats, “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Yes, we’re at Heron Lake.”
Doug and Jasmine both stopped struggling and stared at her.
“I thought we decided not to come this summer.” Jasmine asked in a puzzled voice.
“Yes.”
“And…We’re here anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Great. We’re doomed.”
“Yes.” Meghan clapped her hands together gleefully.
“Okay then, just one question.” Doug asked
“Yes?”
“Where are our clothes?”

But before Meghan could answer a glass-shattering scream echoed from outside from the tent. Without waiting to question it, the three grabbed what weapon they could find nearest and burst from the tent. Outside they found Abe dressed in what looked like an CRAZY Creek and a screaming Sarah, wrapped up in blankets. Doug and Jasmine both looked at Meghan
“It’s only fair if everyone’s naked.” She said happily.
“You have the strangest logic…” Doug muttered.
“But it makes sense—“
She was interrupted by Sarah’s fresh scream, and now that they were closer they could make out the words that were blasting,
“PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!!! WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?!?! WHY AM I HERE!?! WHY IS EVERYONE NAKED!?!”
Followed by long lists of profanity.
Doug ran back to the open tent and grabbed an armful of blankets, throwing one at each of the naked folk until everyone was sufficiently covered enough for Sarah to calm down.
When the volume in the clearing had lowered, Meghan said, “It’s a vacation.”
Sarah looked at her, “What?”
“Heron Lake,” she waved a blanketed arm at the sparkling water that could be seen on the horizon, “we always come.”
“But we weren’t going to come this year.”
Doug cleared his throat, “We’ve already been through that.”
“So we’re doomed?”
“Yep.”
Abe narrowed his eyes and glared at Meghan, “I have just one question.” He stepped close, invading her personal space, “Realize that your very life may depend on your answer.”
Meghan bit her lip, “Okay…”
“Did you bring the canoe?”
“Yes. It’s by the lake.”
Abe smiled, “Okay. You can live.” He strode in the direction of the lake, calling over his shoulder, “See you around dinner time!”
“What about your clothes?” Doug called.
“Fuck clothes, I’ll get them later.”
“Well I want my clothes,” Sarah said turning to Meghan, “Well? Where are they?”
“In a tree.”
Jasmine sighed, “What tree? There are lots of trees.”
“Over there, I’ll take you.”
One by one the bundles of clothing were fished out of the tree and their owners covered once more until Sarah was the only one left wrapped in blankets.
“Where are my clothes Meghan?” She asked in a dangerously low voice.
Meghan sucked in her breathe and stared up at the tree, “The beast must have taken it.”
The other three looked at her, confused.
Deadly serious, she continued, “The mysterious beast that haunts the lakeside, it feasts upon abandoned clothes and then stalks its naked prey.”
The other three just looked at her.
“I’m serious! That’s what happened”
“So everyone has clothes but me? No way. Since you got us into this you should give me your clothes.” Sarah eyed Meghan’s garments prospectively.
Meghan wrapped her arms around herself and took a defensive posture, “No way, you’ll never take my clothes.”
Sarah smiled evilly, “You have to take them off sometime.”
“Never!”

Doug’s hands glided up her back as he kissed her, pulling her shirt up and over her head. Her back ground against the rough bark of the tree behind her as he pushed against her. She breathed in his rich scent and moaned softly as he worked her neck. Her gaze drifted down to the ground and she froze,
“Doug, where are my clothes?”
“What?” He asked, confused.
“My clothes, my…God Damn it.” She swore as she realized what had happened. Thinking quickly she pulled him in for a full kiss, “I appreciate your sacrifice.” She said seriously, laying a hand over his heart.
“My what?” But he was talking to air, she had disappeared and she had taken his clothes with her.
“GOD DAMN IT MEGHAN!”

Meghan confronted Sarah in front of the fire pit where Abe was kindling sparks and Jasmine was whittling sticks.
“So, you think you can attack me when I’m distracted, do you?”
Sarah raised an eyebrow, “I see you have clothes now.”
“Indeed I do.”
Jasmine offered her a poofy white shape from the bag in her lap, “Marshmallow?”
“Yay!” Meghan and Sarah both grabbed marshmallows and sat down in front of the soon-to-be fire.
Jasmine looked sidelong at Meghan, “Aren’t those Doug’s clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Soo… What’s Doug wearing?”
Meghan shrugged, “I don’t know.”
They both looked back at the campsite to see Doug walking around gathering firewood.
“Nothing, I guess.”
“Yep.”
“Sarah, don’t look behind you.” Meghan said, and patted her on the shoulder, “It will end badly.”
Meghan and Jasmine watched as Doug carried a load of wood to their fire. As he approached, he was intercepted by some girls from a neighboring camp. Meghan narrowed her eyes as she watched the girls laugh and giggle.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She asked, turning to Jasmine.
Jasmine grinned ferally and handed her one of the spears that she had been sharpening, “Don’t break it,” she instructed, “I still want to use them to roast marshmallows.”

A newly dressed Meghan handed Doug his clothes back.
“Where did you get the clothes?” he asked, eyeing the huge tear above her heart and the subsequent bloody streaks.
“I found them.”
He pondered about whether to ask and decided against it, “Okay.”
Jasmine chopped up what looked vaguely like human body parts and tilted them into the group’s giant cooking pot.
Everyone ate well that night, and clothing abounded for all.

The end <3

-Meghan

Sarah: ?

Keanu Reeves is playing Spike in the live action Hollywood Cowboy Beebop.

Oh,

And Beebop is a word from Jazz culture.
Oh, Charlie Parker.....

Sincerely,
Sarah