The Attack and the Decay: Part 5.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 5

I shower, dress. First undergarments, then slacks, dress shirt. No need for false beauty. No use in playing a doll. Makeup lays untouched. The thought of love’s too painful. Whether it be deep or platonic. So no show to put on. No spectators to be mindful of. I am me. That’s all that matters. Before I leave the quarters, I carefully spray myself in three heavy layers of sun-retardant cover. Grabbing my sun-suit, I exit the building. “Mindful of the sun. And carry on. Carry on.”

It could melt your skin like butter in a frying pan. I never used to believe that old wise-tale. Thought it was just another government ploy to control the masses and poison our minds. That is, until I witnessed it. The most horrifying sight my eyes had ever seen. A man – poor, disheveled, dressed in nothing but rags – leapt into the heat. Penniless and unable to afford the government’s fancy sun-suits. No cover, not even a foolish attempt at using waste bags to hang over his skin, as others had unwittingly done and failed at. And he disintegrated. Right before my eyes. First his hair, like a flaming torch. Then his eyes, which fell from his sockets and melted before they reached the length of his chest. His leathery skin withered away in a matter of seconds. The sun so hot that it didn’t even leave his bodily fluids behind. It was all evaporated, and nothing but the driest of ashes from his bones lay behind. Even those quickly scattered in the sweltering wind and heat. Never again did I doubt the need for sun-retardant cover or suits. Maybe the government did have motives. But obviously, if I wanted to stay alive, I had to play into them.

[...TO BE CONTINUED...]

Edited 10.8.09 @ 11:55 PM
Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 4.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 4

EVERYDAY HAS A BEAT. A pulse. A rhythm. Sometimes I’m in sync with it. Other times I struggle just to move the many bones within my body. Sometimes I ache. Sometimes it’s physical. Many times it’s emotional. But I’ve carried it for so long that it’s ordinary to me. It’s a part of my life. I don’t think I’d feel complete without it anymore. It’s replaced the feeling of happiness that they could once provide me. If I don’t have this aching, I feel as if I have nothing. It’s my key to the door of my past; the link to the chains that surrounded my childhood. And no matter how hard it pulled me or choked me, I couldn’t give it up. It caused me pain, yes. But only because that connection once gave me so much happiness. That’s how it is with anything in life. The purest, most satisfying things are the coldest and most painful to look at once they’re no longer in your possession. But is it better to feel that pain in exchange for that one moment of pure bliss; or is it better to pass it by – unscathed, untouched, and ignorant to such contentment in the world? Is one-time love better than none at all? My mind wanders back and forth, and I can never choose a side. So I try to remain neutral…or at least appear so.

[...TO BE CONTINUED...]

Edited 10.7.09 @ 11:51 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 3.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 3

I place the O₂ Meter on the tip of my rough index finger. It’s formed a callous over the years. Beep, beep, beep. Oxygen: 92. Heart rate: 132.

Damn, it’s sped up again.

I pop two green pills and swallow them dry. I never could do that as a child. I used to be frightened that I’d choke without a liquid to supplement them. But now I do not care. Death does not scare me much anymore. It’s a given. I am going to die, I am going to die. What worries me: my former life and those whom I once had.

Will any of them know? Will they care?

And then I see something I did not think of before.

What if one of them has died? What if all of them have? And I never knew.

Those are the thoughts that frighten me. Not ones of death. But ones of my former self. My former being. My former happiness. Everything I left behind. But another time for that. “Carry on. Carry on.”

I sit within my medic-chair and complete the morning regiment. Three Inhalants: 3 minutes, Vibration Cycle: 2 minutes, Pulmonary Cleansing Cycle: 5 minutes. In a matter of ten-minutes time, I am ready to begin my day. I remember when such tasks would last for one whole hour. Back when I lived with them still. Before the time of global corruption. When all we had to worry about were “terrorist attacks,” “weapons of mass destruction,” and a world leader who couldn’t pronounce “strategy.” I’d give anything for those foolish, innocent times. Because though the world seemed crazy, we hadn’t realized the destruction that lay ahead. And at the time, I had them to help me through it. They were there to guide me, love me, teach me. But now the world is shattering – breaking in every direction. The worst I’ve ever witnessed it. And they’re not here. Nowhere to be found. But if you asked them, they’d say it was my doing; it was my choice. Which I suppose I can’t deny. But we must all grow up sometime. And in doing so, we give up some of life’s greatest pleasures. They were mine.

[...TO BE CONTINUED...]

Edited 10.6.09 @ 11:55 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 2.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 2

I walk into my personal health clinic, down the hall, second door on the right. It’s homebound. Not many can afford these nowadays. Neither can I. I have connections. Illegal ones. My physical condition required my own health center, but they don’t issue those to single, unaccomplished, poverty-line females, especially if they’re teachers. They don’t want to “encourage the unsanitary moral fabric that public education manifests.” Thus we get no funding, no support, and essentially, the slow decay of life that others are given the right to overcome with modern technologies. They figure if we die off eventually, they’ll control everything soon enough. The chance of revolt will be far slimmer.

But I was never one for politics. I gave them up years ago. After the loss of a lover. One who indulged in them to the fullest. Filled his life with political trifles – all the way to the brim. I used to play the part for him. Dinner parties, soirees, meetings, conferences, campaigns, and the like. I thought at first it was for me. I thought I cared. I thought a difference could be made. But then I saw the light – the kind that’s blinding; that you don’t want to look at but can’t help because its beams are so pervading. And it made me realize that it was all a lie. And with the realization of this truth came the loss of my greatest passion, my greatest love. My first love. But I could not lie to myself – I could not be untrue to the deepest of my core – just for love. Such love cannot defeat the everyday troubles that come with difference in ideals. So I took my separate road. And at the next exit, I left behind my passion and his passion. And never again did I involve myself with politics. It was all a sham. As our love had been.

[...TO BE CONTINUED...]

Edited 10.5.09 @ 9:18 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 1.

For the next several entries I will be doing a series of installments of a short story I began a few years ago (but never finished). I hope you all enjoy.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 1

THE RED LIGHT FLASHES. It’s the pulse of my heart. It follows me exactly. Thump-thump-thump. Blink-blink-blink. Thump-thump. Blink-blink. A few more seconds of this and my mind will be forced to wake up from this mummified state. How I hate the mornings now. They used to be my favorite. Back when they meant the smell of bacon, Sunday music, and smiling faces in the kitchen. Those were the good times. But I walk into my cooking area now and see nothing but the cold steel of my cookware. The emptiness of peach-tinted walls. The sad images of a childhood long-gone. I weep inside. But the daily grind leaves no room for sentiment. “Carry on. Carry on.”

[...TO BE CONTINUED...]

Edited 10.4.09 @ 11:55 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

Enchanted.

Enchanted

I remember how your face looked when I first met you in person.

We didn’t speak directly, but I felt your gaze on me.

I was instantly drawn to you, even before I heard you speak.

And the moment I heard your voice, some switch in me was flipped.

You were so informal, so familiar, so intimate.

It was as if we had already met, like you knew me from another life.

And it was indescribable, the way you made me feel--

The looks you gave me, the way you stood near me, your tone of voice.

You enchanted me somehow, drew me close and kept me there.

All without ever telling me the truth, without ever being serious.

I still don’t know your true feelings then.

But I know my own.

And every moment I breathe that is not in your presence,

I feel it is a breath wasted.

I long to sense you near and feel your gaze upon me.

I yearn to feel enchanted,

And held within your arms.

Edited 10.3.09 @ 11:31 PM

Originally Written 8.9.05 @ 9:18 PM

Breaching the Circle.

Breaching the Circle

We talk in circles,
We walk in circles
Rarely going anywhere

But there are those who learn the world
And how to cut across it
Rather than spin endlessly around

They do not practice circular talk
Or indulge in roundabout walk
They go where they dare

So break free;
Beware;
But go where you dare.

Written 10.2.09 @ 11:59 PM

Battle of the Seasons.

Battle of the Seasons

Green to orange
Orange to brown
Brown to green
And all around

These seasons of our lives
They cannot be disguised

Today we're fresh
Tomorrow aging
The future is
The war we're waging.

Written 10.1.09 @ 11:51 PM