The world is just a place you get lost in
put your thoughts aside and feel it with your heart
you know what you want cause you've the spark within
to get back to reality, that's the tough part
We may lose our innocence as years pass
we might forget we can do good as well
but nobody can steal our dream too fast
we're all children of God, though on Earth Lucifer fell
We hear babies cry and we see elders lose
their place in a cold-hearted society
what would we get if we could really choose
lives are lost on one side, there's no variety
So many things to tell, where to begin
who to prevent the end is near
we all have our ears shut and act like a machine
maybe it's time we open our eyes and see clear.
13 june 2009.
sabato 29 agosto 2009
The pack that never arrived...
----Inspired by real events-------
He was waiting the call. That was the deal. As soon as it got home, they would call, give him the pack and the story would be half finished. At least, part of his deal.But he kept waiting and waiting. No sign of the call, no trace of the package.
''What's taking them so long?''. It was due to arrive a couple of days before already and nobody had attentioned him in case something might had gone wrong and thus delayed its arrival.
He needed some fresh air. He needed to clear his thoughts. He'd get out of the house, take a few steps and maybe they'd let him know the pack reached its destination. He took his cell phone , they had the number.
He didn't instruct anyone in the house about the package. Nobody needed to know. No housekeeper, no butler, no relatives.
He was 100% sure he'll get the call as agreed as soon as he'd leave the house premises.The content of the package was slightly unknown to him. He only knew the components names and the whole quantities for each one but he wasn't an expert at combining them into one thing.He knew all the stuff that was in the package was harmless if not combined and untraceable.The most important aspect, though, was that the ones' the package was destined to in the first place will use those components to build an explosive device.
It had all started two weeks prior when his 8 yo daughter hadn't returned from school. He had received afterwards an anonymous call that had told him they had his daughter and in favor to get her back he had to get these substances from his industrial plant. A man with his position, that of the CEO and owner of the plant won't find any difficulties in providing the right things at the right time to the right people, they thought.
The anonymous caller had revealed himself later as being the head of a major terrorist organisation, planning an attack in the near future.
He had then called the factory unit of the plant to get the samples the kidnappers had asked for. But no sign of them yet. He took the path that would lead him to a small man-made lake that stood in the middle of his trees-covered park. It would take him a quarter of an hour to get there and get back, when he'd get the call.He finally arrived there, took a seat at one of the benches and layed the cell phone next to him, looking at it, waiting impatiently for this mircale call. Half hour had passed and still nothing.This was getting tricky and he didn't like it. He wanted to phone the factory and see if they'd sent it, but that'd be his sixth call concerning the matter and the whole thing might get suspicious to everybody that weren't supposed to get involved. The kidnappers had already instructed him to keep it as quiet as possible and to not get anybody else involved. He knew the local police was corrupt enough to not give a damn about him or his daughter, meaning the terrorists must have done their bribing routine already. Hell, even he had payed them once to get his dirty businesses finished and he knew once the money's in their hand they'll do whatever it takes to defend the ''employer'' and get things right. As not letting anyone mess up the plans.
The break he needed was over. He couldn't just stand there, doing nothing. It was little by little eating him. He took the road back to his villa.It was the first time he was actually looking at the trees, the plants, feeling the sound of insects and such. If these small things had gotten to him, go figure how he must've felt inside. His heart was dying whilst thinking about his daughter. Would they hurt her, would they torture her, would they treat her maliciously? He had no way to know any of that , but all he could do was hope they would't touch a single hair.
Upon his return to the house, the butler wanted to tell him something, but he closed his mouth with a sign and went to his office.
-Not now, Adam, I'm busy.....
He opened his pc, trying to get more info on who the terrorists were and what they really wanted. The name of the organisation the leader had provided him with didn't ring any bells whatsoever, but who knew how many small cells of people wanting to bomb shit up were there around.There was nothing on the internet, there was nothing in his archive files. The name didn't match with anything he knew or had known. They must've been new to the game, yet they seemed and sounded so professional and focused.He had to be a notch higher than them to forsee and outsmart them.
The cell rang.The melody sounded eerie and dark, painted with blood. He let it ring a few times. His whole body shaking, fearing that the caller would not be the person he'd expect to.
-Hello.......
His voice was low, but at the same time powerful.
-Did you get it?
He instantly recognised the man on the other end. The mastermind of the whole ''kidnap kid-get the things-make bomb-blow who knows what'' plan.
-Ehm, no....Not yet. It was due to arrive two days ago, I'm still waiting for it too...Listen, could I talk talk with my daughter, I just wanna hear her voice, see if she's ok..
-You're gonna talk with your daughter when you'll see her face to face, that means when you give me what I've asked you for....And yes, she's ok, I'm a business man, just like yourself, I'm not an animal
-Please, just one word.....
He sounded desperate, tears came down his cheek.
-Give me my things and we'll call it off....the other man sounded angry.
-I don't have them, it haven't arrived yet.....
-Why don't you tell me you went for a walk, waiting for the call and in the meantime the package did arrive at you house. They didn't call you personally but they talked with your butler that sent them away. I suppose you didn't speak with anyone of your house employees about the pack.....Am I right?
Silence stood in between the two men. They had been watching him from the beggining. The butler did want to say something, but he didn't even take the time to hear.He realised what he'd done.
-Am I right..? the man continued. Now you're telling me that you don't have the pack just cause you're stupid enough to have it slip through your fingers, right beneath your nose? What kind of a businessman are you, what kind of father are you, what kind of a fucking lame joke are you? You were credited with your kid's life and you fuck it up like this..?
-No, wait, I can get it back....Wait!!!!!!! he shouted
-I'm afraid it's too late, deal is off.....
A shot of a pistol was heard in the background and the screams of a young girl.
-No!!..No, No, No, No.......
He burst into hotter tears, falling to the floor.
-My baby, no.....
His whole body and mind would not react to anything else for twenty minutes.
He got up, went to his private cabinet, where he kept a gun. It was a Model 17 Masterpiece Smith and Wesson. He took it out of its box, and put the six inch barrel into his bouth. He couldn't taste the carbon steel, only the pain and the suffering mixed with tears and the bood that he sensed was leaving his body.If his daughter would not be on this world, he might not as well. They'd meet elsewhere, no kidnappers and no terrorists.
His phone rang again.He was ready to go into oblivion.The melody reminded him of his daughter, but he didn't loosen the grip on the pistol.The trigger was slightly moving, it would be just a split second till the bullett would carve its way into his brain, making a mess on the wall and floor.
The phone kept ringing. If he'd not answer it, his life would end. If he'd answer it, his life would never be the same......
He took the gun out of his mouth and put it in the box he took it from.He rushed to the other side of the office and picked up the phone.
-Hello.....
He was waiting the call. That was the deal. As soon as it got home, they would call, give him the pack and the story would be half finished. At least, part of his deal.But he kept waiting and waiting. No sign of the call, no trace of the package.
''What's taking them so long?''. It was due to arrive a couple of days before already and nobody had attentioned him in case something might had gone wrong and thus delayed its arrival.
He needed some fresh air. He needed to clear his thoughts. He'd get out of the house, take a few steps and maybe they'd let him know the pack reached its destination. He took his cell phone , they had the number.
He didn't instruct anyone in the house about the package. Nobody needed to know. No housekeeper, no butler, no relatives.
He was 100% sure he'll get the call as agreed as soon as he'd leave the house premises.The content of the package was slightly unknown to him. He only knew the components names and the whole quantities for each one but he wasn't an expert at combining them into one thing.He knew all the stuff that was in the package was harmless if not combined and untraceable.The most important aspect, though, was that the ones' the package was destined to in the first place will use those components to build an explosive device.
It had all started two weeks prior when his 8 yo daughter hadn't returned from school. He had received afterwards an anonymous call that had told him they had his daughter and in favor to get her back he had to get these substances from his industrial plant. A man with his position, that of the CEO and owner of the plant won't find any difficulties in providing the right things at the right time to the right people, they thought.
The anonymous caller had revealed himself later as being the head of a major terrorist organisation, planning an attack in the near future.
He had then called the factory unit of the plant to get the samples the kidnappers had asked for. But no sign of them yet. He took the path that would lead him to a small man-made lake that stood in the middle of his trees-covered park. It would take him a quarter of an hour to get there and get back, when he'd get the call.He finally arrived there, took a seat at one of the benches and layed the cell phone next to him, looking at it, waiting impatiently for this mircale call. Half hour had passed and still nothing.This was getting tricky and he didn't like it. He wanted to phone the factory and see if they'd sent it, but that'd be his sixth call concerning the matter and the whole thing might get suspicious to everybody that weren't supposed to get involved. The kidnappers had already instructed him to keep it as quiet as possible and to not get anybody else involved. He knew the local police was corrupt enough to not give a damn about him or his daughter, meaning the terrorists must have done their bribing routine already. Hell, even he had payed them once to get his dirty businesses finished and he knew once the money's in their hand they'll do whatever it takes to defend the ''employer'' and get things right. As not letting anyone mess up the plans.
The break he needed was over. He couldn't just stand there, doing nothing. It was little by little eating him. He took the road back to his villa.It was the first time he was actually looking at the trees, the plants, feeling the sound of insects and such. If these small things had gotten to him, go figure how he must've felt inside. His heart was dying whilst thinking about his daughter. Would they hurt her, would they torture her, would they treat her maliciously? He had no way to know any of that , but all he could do was hope they would't touch a single hair.
Upon his return to the house, the butler wanted to tell him something, but he closed his mouth with a sign and went to his office.
-Not now, Adam, I'm busy.....
He opened his pc, trying to get more info on who the terrorists were and what they really wanted. The name of the organisation the leader had provided him with didn't ring any bells whatsoever, but who knew how many small cells of people wanting to bomb shit up were there around.There was nothing on the internet, there was nothing in his archive files. The name didn't match with anything he knew or had known. They must've been new to the game, yet they seemed and sounded so professional and focused.He had to be a notch higher than them to forsee and outsmart them.
The cell rang.The melody sounded eerie and dark, painted with blood. He let it ring a few times. His whole body shaking, fearing that the caller would not be the person he'd expect to.
-Hello.......
His voice was low, but at the same time powerful.
-Did you get it?
He instantly recognised the man on the other end. The mastermind of the whole ''kidnap kid-get the things-make bomb-blow who knows what'' plan.
-Ehm, no....Not yet. It was due to arrive two days ago, I'm still waiting for it too...Listen, could I talk talk with my daughter, I just wanna hear her voice, see if she's ok..
-You're gonna talk with your daughter when you'll see her face to face, that means when you give me what I've asked you for....And yes, she's ok, I'm a business man, just like yourself, I'm not an animal
-Please, just one word.....
He sounded desperate, tears came down his cheek.
-Give me my things and we'll call it off....the other man sounded angry.
-I don't have them, it haven't arrived yet.....
-Why don't you tell me you went for a walk, waiting for the call and in the meantime the package did arrive at you house. They didn't call you personally but they talked with your butler that sent them away. I suppose you didn't speak with anyone of your house employees about the pack.....Am I right?
Silence stood in between the two men. They had been watching him from the beggining. The butler did want to say something, but he didn't even take the time to hear.He realised what he'd done.
-Am I right..? the man continued. Now you're telling me that you don't have the pack just cause you're stupid enough to have it slip through your fingers, right beneath your nose? What kind of a businessman are you, what kind of father are you, what kind of a fucking lame joke are you? You were credited with your kid's life and you fuck it up like this..?
-No, wait, I can get it back....Wait!!!!!!! he shouted
-I'm afraid it's too late, deal is off.....
A shot of a pistol was heard in the background and the screams of a young girl.
-No!!..No, No, No, No.......
He burst into hotter tears, falling to the floor.
-My baby, no.....
His whole body and mind would not react to anything else for twenty minutes.
He got up, went to his private cabinet, where he kept a gun. It was a Model 17 Masterpiece Smith and Wesson. He took it out of its box, and put the six inch barrel into his bouth. He couldn't taste the carbon steel, only the pain and the suffering mixed with tears and the bood that he sensed was leaving his body.If his daughter would not be on this world, he might not as well. They'd meet elsewhere, no kidnappers and no terrorists.
His phone rang again.He was ready to go into oblivion.The melody reminded him of his daughter, but he didn't loosen the grip on the pistol.The trigger was slightly moving, it would be just a split second till the bullett would carve its way into his brain, making a mess on the wall and floor.
The phone kept ringing. If he'd not answer it, his life would end. If he'd answer it, his life would never be the same......
He took the gun out of his mouth and put it in the box he took it from.He rushed to the other side of the office and picked up the phone.
-Hello.....
Stories from outside your window part 10 (Epilogue)
INTRO.
The hospital was packed. The sudden explosion heard half hour back had been the result of a bomb planted at a mall. And hence it was saturday, the hospital personnel could expect lots of kids injured. Doctors running around, phones buzzing, ambulances blazing their sirens, trainees showing their skills and left-out patients formed a chaotic scenery inside the halls and outside the sanitary building.
The hospital had always been lacking any serious funds for beds and latest technology, now that was even more evident.
The blow of the explosion not only had scared her, but probably her fetus as well. She was pregnant, 5 months in, and had passed by her doctor for a check-up. Her husband must've been on his way, blocked in traffic. The shockwave that came with the loud bang had damaged the right wing of the facility, forcing her doctor to move her in the part of the hospital that was receiving the victims of the mall.
-I'm sorry Mary, but we're kind of busy, I'll be with you soon!..said the heavy-breathing doctor. He exited the room as fast as he had made his appearence.
The ambulances had been bringing lots of injured and corpses too. The morgue personnel were now attending patients. Bodies stacked on other bodies waited to be examined and autopsied. The cause of death was obvious, but law was law.The woman was getting impatient. She was aware she couldn't get out the hospital whistling. There'd be too much chaos on the streets, besides another bomb, thus another explosion, would be a certainty. Staying in the hospital was a much better idea. Soon, her room got ''flooded'' with hit-by-debris kids, burnt people, all yelling and screaming in a mutual language, but making it sound like Tower of Babel. Her doctor had returned to the room, trying to take care of as many people as possible, patching injuries and administrating drugs.
-I'll be with you in a moment, Mary! Hold on!
The blood on people's faces, hands or clothes had made her faint.
In the whole confusion and velocity of events, she finally had gotten her pregnancy shot, while she was still unconscious.With the same syringe the doctor had taken care of administrating fluid medicine to near-dying explosion victims.
She hadn't gotten the virus herself, but after giving birth, her son was diagnosed as HIV positive.
A life had ended before it had even begun. A future torn apart by something she didn't understand. An existence lost to posterity.
She had named him Jesus, she didn't know if he'd get to see his 33rd birthday, he was in God's hands now......
SIDE A.(The happenings)
1.
The man entered the doctor's office. He was in his forties, casual clothed. He shook the doctor's hand and got seated in the big patient's armchair.
-So, what is it doc? We've seen each other three days ago. What's the big news?
The doctor took a deep breath.
-Well, I don't know how to tell you this, but you ain't doing too well health-wise.....
The man stared at his doctor, slightly grinning.
-C'mon doc, tell me what it is. What? Prostate, infertility, what?
-You've got lung cancer, not curable. You won't die tomorrow, but you won't celebrate Christmas either. I'm sorry, I've double-checked the test results and there's nothing I can do...I'm sorry...
The doctor's tone was cold and hollow, giving the man chills down the spine. He got up, grin absent, not looking the doctor in the eye and left the office.Upon exiting the private clinic, his shaky fingers managed to lit a cigarette and he drove off.
It was pub-celebrating time that evening.
2.
They'd be here any minute. He hadn't much time. ''The first place I spot one, I'm getting it'' he thought. And there it was, on the shelf , in one of the small stores in the market of the neighborhood. He grabbed it quickly and straight to the cash register. The older man behind it had a strange aura about him.
-Don't do it, mate!
-Do what? he answered , scratching his head.
-You know what I mean, don't do it. It ain't worth it, mate.Just enjoy life as it's given to you.
The older man seemed even stranger now.
-I've no idea what you're talking about! Could I have my change, please?..
The older man handed over the money and the client's razor.
-Just remember, once started, you can't stop...
-Get a life, man! the client said as leaving the store. It was his birthday and he had one last surprise up his sleeve.
3.He was eagerly awaiting him. He had gotten the money, so now not only could he pay for another one, but he'd erase the debts with the ''House''.The Guy made his appearence.
-I hope you were not bullshitting!..
The teen handed him the envelope and said:
-That shit not only covers for the one today but you'll find some extra for the future. Whenever I call, you bring it, fair deal?
The Guy went through the bills quickly.
-Nice job. There! ...and he handed the precious bag.
-See ya!
-See ya!
They parted ways. They both got what they wanted.
4.The Vangelis tape he had put on was giving him good vibes, to say the least. Sun was shining, what more could he want? He hadn't spent a great night but today seemed like it would make up for it. Her image came to his mind.He was seeying her smiling, something she hadn't done in a long time, at least not in his presence. It felt like she'd appear in the middle of the road. Then, his eyes became blurry and couldn't distinguish traffic anymore.
His foot fell heavy on the acceleration pedal.
5.With tears in her eyes, she torn the pages of the notebook. Pages of sin, pages of herself being sold, pages of herself becoming less and less a person and more a mere object. She asked the hotel owner to erase her name from official listings. Nobody had to know she had been there.Nobody had to know what she had gone through. It was back to quiet-boring small town life, where she could pull herself together and start fresh again.Her parents would understand. She left the hotel in a hurry , never looking back.
6.His head was buzzing, his body was numb. And all he wanted was some appreciation from his companions, that he hadn't gotten. He went out the room into the big dancing hall. For anyone in a normal state it would have been almost defeaning, but for him it sounded like music to fall asleep to,soothing for his ears. It must've been the excitement of seeying so many people enjoying themselves in his club that had put a smile on his face.
Just a moment later he collapsed to the floor, nobody minding him. His night was over.
7.A tear fell down his cheek as he thought one more time about his family. It had happened so fast that he hadn't even enjoyed life as a father and a husband. He was only given a taste of it. And lots of people instead were giving up on it, not knowing what they could lose.
It had been getting dark, he arranged the piles of papers and cartons to make his sleep more enjoyable, at most.It was the last time he thought about his family. He soon was to re-join them.
8.-I'm gonna put this shit on Youtube, dawgs! one of them said looking at the footage on his camera.
-That pig deserved it, yo! If it wasn't us, next day it's be him doing one of us. We did a good for humanity.
-He was twitching like a fucking chicken with its head ripped off......
They started laughing. The Gran Torino was not to be driven by amateurs, and he was less than amateur. The colour red of the traffic lights seemed like the revenge of the red blood they had been spilling earlyer when they met their dead-end. There was no high-school tomorrow, there was no more walk-ability for one of them tomorrow, there was no more group tomorrow.
They had been sent to different prisons.
9.The slick-clothed old man picked up the phone.
-So, is it taken care of? Have you got them?
He paused, listening the other end's answer.
-Oh, good. Go back at his house and burn it to the ground. I don't want anything tying him to me, understood?
He put the phone down.
The day had been fruitfull for business, three organs meant 50-60 thousand altogether. One of his bodyguards whispered something in his ear. He listened carefully and he nodded.
-Yes, ok, bring him in.
The man that had entered the office saluted him and took a seat.
-I've been told that you could help me...
The older man didn't respond, taking time with his observation.
-It depends what kind of help you need. Nevertheless I'm sure I can do something for you in exchange of something else, of course...
The old man grinned. The shit was getting better and better.
SIDE B.(The conscience)
1.''I really can't remember the first time I've smoked. To tell you the truth, I don't think I want to. I haven't thought about getting it, I mean there's millions of bastards smoking out there and they ain't having it. I just had to get it.And that prick doctor of mine could've told me in advance. It wouldn't have mattered, but still the thought counts. What's left now? To smoke my lungs out till ain't nothing left of them, fuck it, maybe that way cancer will go away as well.''
2.''Look, I ain't trying to explain my choice. You can't feel my feelings, you can't live my life, therefor don't make any assumptions. Anyway I don't think you could fully understand unless you'd be in my shoes. I've made a decision and I'm sticking with it. No backing off anymore, otherwise I'll be regreting it in a few years from now, I'll be going crazy or some shit like that. There's nobody out there that can change my mind.''
3.''What would you do if you were me? If you'd have an unemployed mom, a dad that doesn't call, not even on birthdays and no people to support you. You wouldn't know what to answer, would you? Cause you all live in your little perfect worlds and you wouldn't want it any other way. You see, for me, it's the same. I'm escaping this reality for something better. Drugs offer me this chance to have it all and I'm taking it. Where I'm going on my ''trips'' ain't no poverty, ain't no ordinary life burden, it's just me having everything.''
4.a)''It was wrong not to pass by her. I should've gone to her and apologise. How hard could that be? Actually, fuck that, she never did apologise to me for cheating. I mean, she did, but I don't think she was sincere, or was her? I'll never know now, will I?''
b)'' How did we get here? We started as a happy couple, there was a chemistry between us. Now poof, it's gone! We keep fighting like we actually enjoy doing it. It's stupid. I should've apologised, it wouldn't have been the end of the world...tell him I stil love him.Now, he'll never know that, will he?''
5.''It wasn't supposed to happen. I ain't got no other words to reffer to the whole situation. My tears won't make me feel better. After the bruises are gone, I won't feel better. Yes, I can start fresh again, but that guy took a piece of me and there's no way I can have it back. Sold merchandise is not changeable. What a way to fuck up my life, huh?''
6.''I don't give a fuck about any of your opinions. I've got the money so I can do pretty much every-fucking-thing. Drugs-check, booze-check, orgies-check. Now, go get yourself a job and stop babbling about my shit.''
7.'' Yes, I still think about them. Because I couldn't see me without them. I just couldn't have a house and a family. That's why I chose the life I've got. Besides, what does it mean to have a house. Does it make one stronger or a better person? I don't think so. Does a car transform one in a superhuman, I'd say no. People tend to take that too seriously. Without someone to share those with, they don't mean anything. And I didn't want to be like those people. If I'll be here tomorrow, I don't know , but I don't mind, it's ok.But do you?''
8.''It's survival of the fittest, niggaz. These muthafuckaz out there have got gunz and gangz, we've got to act up, nah mean? It was either us or him. And a dead nigger is always better than us dead. say what you will. This ain't racism, it's just our truth. They don't deserve to be here in the first place, fuck them, back to the sugar canes plantations, niggers!''
9.''This is the last chance I've got. Either this or it's dead end. It's been dead end for me all these years, I don't want my kids to have to deal with the same life as mine. I'd rather give my life for a brighter future for them.''
SIDE C.( The meeting)
They all woke up in one room. A blank white room, no windows, no doors, no lights, just plain white. Him in the centre, them around Him, forming a circle, seated, looking at one another. It was their first time they's see each other, and probably the last as well.
They wanted to shout and scream and speak, but they couldn't. Silence fell over the room. He looked everybody in the eye and spoke.
-The reason I've brought you here is simple. You're all been given lives, but at one point or another you've started to lose control over them. You've taken them for granted.Either that it's auto-destruction in Matt's case, or just something ricocheting from other people's lives, as Johhny here. But I'm giving you the opportunity to have another life. And this is how it's gonna work: you'll be sent back with another identity which you'll live until you've realised the mistakes you've done in your past existence. But don't haste yourselves, you've only got one life, treasure it. I can't choose for you, nor I can make you do something against your wills, but be aware you're given this opportunity, whomever doesn't take advantage of it will suffer its own mistakes again. Don't forget I'm always watching, in case of need you know where to find me: inside yourselves. There can be good from bad and vice-versa, the important thing is how you dosage those two elements within yourselves. And ask your hearts more often than your minds. Sometimes the answers are hidden, but that doesn't mean you can't find them. My friends, I'll be leaving you. I know it's gonna be hard, but you'll make it. Now, go to sleep!...
He waved His hand upon them and they went into a trance-like state of mind, only to wake up being them again.
His ashtray was almost full. He kept staring at it as if it gotten a spell over him. He had gotten a day off from work, he needed to think this well. He saw himself in the doctor's office receiving the news. ''Nah,I don't need this.'' The last couple of cigarettes in his packet were ''inviting'' him for another smoke. He took them and straight to the trashbin.
He had just finished to write the second note. The reflection in the razor didn't show himself anymore. He put it away. ''I don't need this.'' A few minutes later, his mom and the other birthday guests bursted into his room. He didn't have any surprise for them anymore, but him, nor them minded much.
He was looking at the purse. His aunt in the kitchen, talking on the phone. His craving for the much sought-after dose was increasing, but at the same time he looked at the other side of the coin, his young cousin being sick in the hospital.''I don't need this.'' When his aunt returned to the livingroom with the tea pot and cups he asked if he could come along to visit his cousin. No meeting would take place anymore, his pusher would have to trick somebody else, he wasn't gonna be a puppet anymore.
He hadn't had his drinks yet. Sitting at the bar he ordered just a coffee, drank it in a blink of an eye and made for the appartment. She'd sleep still, but it'd be worth it. On his way home, his eyes kept falling on empty beer bottles, broken on the streets. ''I don't need this.'' At home he finally apologised and made love to her in a long time. Things were going for the better.
She was outside the hotel, on the sidewalk, looking up at her rented room window. It was that hour and someone had entered her room,turned the lights on , making noises and breaking furniture. ''I don't need this..not this time.'' She had taken all her stuff in advance. Time to stop by her parents.
As the car was leaving behind the residential area, he stopped.
-What now? his friend asked.
-Get out!
-What?
-Get out I said! Actually I've got a better idea........ He got out himself, looking around and spoke.
-I ain't coming tonight anymore. You take care of Tina. I've got to do something, I'm sorry....Scratch that, I'm not.
-What's wrong with you, bro? You high or something?
But he didn't speak anymore, turning his face away from him.He started to walk up the street as his friend continued the road to the party venue. He could see parts of the city, the lights of the households or business' offices turned off one by one. ''I don't need this.'' When he got to the villa it was 5 in the morning and he used his parent's entrance.
He went to sleep. He didn't want to change anything. He'd see his wife and kid if he'd do this. but it didn't feel right. He could still do a lot with his life till then. ''I don't need this, now.'' He woke up and took a walk in the park he'd been in when sun was up. As he returned his ''place'' was burnt down, but he had another reason to go on with his life. Somebody up there was still looking after him.
The four friends met at their rendez-vous spot. They looked at each-other.
-Should we do this? one asked.
-Yes, we should, we don't need any of this.... the others agreed.
They threw the knife, the baseball bat and camera away and just sat down talking about how it would be the first day of high-school.
He looked at his sleeping kids, having to choose between a not-certain future for them or no future at all.''I'll take my chances, I don't need this.'' He never got to see the Boss' office, instead he spent the day looking for a job. Maybe luck would turn its face onto him this time.
They got together again in the same all-white room. He spoke to them.
-I'm proud of you all. Just don't give up on yourselves like the first times. You don't want to become this...
And he showed them dirt in his left hand.
-Be this!....he blew off some white feathers from his right hand.
-Now, take each-other's hands and remember this moment, remember me, for I won't be here for much longer.
He fell silent as all 12 formed a circle around Him, holding hands, forming one soul altogether.
OUTRO
The hospital room was dark, filled with damp air, drapes were closed. It felt like a grave, just medical machines bleeping made an eerie sound collage.His mom entered the room and turned on the switch. His dad had long time died. He woke up, opening his eyes, trying to smile when he saw his mom. The next day he'd be 33 yo, yet he knew he'd not make it.
-So, how's my fighter? the mom asked.
She looked worried but at peace at the same time. His words felt heavy, but he tried to speak nevertheless.
-I had a dream.....There were lots of people in it and I saved them from their fate . I gave them their lives again.
He started coughing. The IV's pumped medicine into his weak body, there was an apparatus helping his breathing and another one keeping his heartbeat rate in check.
-Easy son, don't force yourself.
He was struggling to keep his voice. His mom took both his hands into hers.
-I saved them...
-Yes son, you did...You rest a bit more, I'll go get some lunch.
She kissed him on the forehead. He smiled.
-I love you!
-I love you too, mom!
She went out the room, merely to catch her breath and let the river of tears flow freely on the red flamy cheeks.With her back against the door she could hear the flat-line signal of the machines that were partly responsible with keeping her son's life prolongued.
He hadn't gotten to see his 33rd birthday. He was dead physically for the world.
But the people in his dream were real, not the product of his imagination. He had saved them. He had given them new chances to do good out of bad, to start fresh again, to live their lives and not just follow a line.
And now he was living inside each one of them.Forever....
Peace and blessings,
Tuemckey
The hospital was packed. The sudden explosion heard half hour back had been the result of a bomb planted at a mall. And hence it was saturday, the hospital personnel could expect lots of kids injured. Doctors running around, phones buzzing, ambulances blazing their sirens, trainees showing their skills and left-out patients formed a chaotic scenery inside the halls and outside the sanitary building.
The hospital had always been lacking any serious funds for beds and latest technology, now that was even more evident.
The blow of the explosion not only had scared her, but probably her fetus as well. She was pregnant, 5 months in, and had passed by her doctor for a check-up. Her husband must've been on his way, blocked in traffic. The shockwave that came with the loud bang had damaged the right wing of the facility, forcing her doctor to move her in the part of the hospital that was receiving the victims of the mall.
-I'm sorry Mary, but we're kind of busy, I'll be with you soon!..said the heavy-breathing doctor. He exited the room as fast as he had made his appearence.
The ambulances had been bringing lots of injured and corpses too. The morgue personnel were now attending patients. Bodies stacked on other bodies waited to be examined and autopsied. The cause of death was obvious, but law was law.The woman was getting impatient. She was aware she couldn't get out the hospital whistling. There'd be too much chaos on the streets, besides another bomb, thus another explosion, would be a certainty. Staying in the hospital was a much better idea. Soon, her room got ''flooded'' with hit-by-debris kids, burnt people, all yelling and screaming in a mutual language, but making it sound like Tower of Babel. Her doctor had returned to the room, trying to take care of as many people as possible, patching injuries and administrating drugs.
-I'll be with you in a moment, Mary! Hold on!
The blood on people's faces, hands or clothes had made her faint.
In the whole confusion and velocity of events, she finally had gotten her pregnancy shot, while she was still unconscious.With the same syringe the doctor had taken care of administrating fluid medicine to near-dying explosion victims.
She hadn't gotten the virus herself, but after giving birth, her son was diagnosed as HIV positive.
A life had ended before it had even begun. A future torn apart by something she didn't understand. An existence lost to posterity.
She had named him Jesus, she didn't know if he'd get to see his 33rd birthday, he was in God's hands now......
SIDE A.(The happenings)
1.
The man entered the doctor's office. He was in his forties, casual clothed. He shook the doctor's hand and got seated in the big patient's armchair.
-So, what is it doc? We've seen each other three days ago. What's the big news?
The doctor took a deep breath.
-Well, I don't know how to tell you this, but you ain't doing too well health-wise.....
The man stared at his doctor, slightly grinning.
-C'mon doc, tell me what it is. What? Prostate, infertility, what?
-You've got lung cancer, not curable. You won't die tomorrow, but you won't celebrate Christmas either. I'm sorry, I've double-checked the test results and there's nothing I can do...I'm sorry...
The doctor's tone was cold and hollow, giving the man chills down the spine. He got up, grin absent, not looking the doctor in the eye and left the office.Upon exiting the private clinic, his shaky fingers managed to lit a cigarette and he drove off.
It was pub-celebrating time that evening.
2.
They'd be here any minute. He hadn't much time. ''The first place I spot one, I'm getting it'' he thought. And there it was, on the shelf , in one of the small stores in the market of the neighborhood. He grabbed it quickly and straight to the cash register. The older man behind it had a strange aura about him.
-Don't do it, mate!
-Do what? he answered , scratching his head.
-You know what I mean, don't do it. It ain't worth it, mate.Just enjoy life as it's given to you.
The older man seemed even stranger now.
-I've no idea what you're talking about! Could I have my change, please?..
The older man handed over the money and the client's razor.
-Just remember, once started, you can't stop...
-Get a life, man! the client said as leaving the store. It was his birthday and he had one last surprise up his sleeve.
3.He was eagerly awaiting him. He had gotten the money, so now not only could he pay for another one, but he'd erase the debts with the ''House''.The Guy made his appearence.
-I hope you were not bullshitting!..
The teen handed him the envelope and said:
-That shit not only covers for the one today but you'll find some extra for the future. Whenever I call, you bring it, fair deal?
The Guy went through the bills quickly.
-Nice job. There! ...and he handed the precious bag.
-See ya!
-See ya!
They parted ways. They both got what they wanted.
4.The Vangelis tape he had put on was giving him good vibes, to say the least. Sun was shining, what more could he want? He hadn't spent a great night but today seemed like it would make up for it. Her image came to his mind.He was seeying her smiling, something she hadn't done in a long time, at least not in his presence. It felt like she'd appear in the middle of the road. Then, his eyes became blurry and couldn't distinguish traffic anymore.
His foot fell heavy on the acceleration pedal.
5.With tears in her eyes, she torn the pages of the notebook. Pages of sin, pages of herself being sold, pages of herself becoming less and less a person and more a mere object. She asked the hotel owner to erase her name from official listings. Nobody had to know she had been there.Nobody had to know what she had gone through. It was back to quiet-boring small town life, where she could pull herself together and start fresh again.Her parents would understand. She left the hotel in a hurry , never looking back.
6.His head was buzzing, his body was numb. And all he wanted was some appreciation from his companions, that he hadn't gotten. He went out the room into the big dancing hall. For anyone in a normal state it would have been almost defeaning, but for him it sounded like music to fall asleep to,soothing for his ears. It must've been the excitement of seeying so many people enjoying themselves in his club that had put a smile on his face.
Just a moment later he collapsed to the floor, nobody minding him. His night was over.
7.A tear fell down his cheek as he thought one more time about his family. It had happened so fast that he hadn't even enjoyed life as a father and a husband. He was only given a taste of it. And lots of people instead were giving up on it, not knowing what they could lose.
It had been getting dark, he arranged the piles of papers and cartons to make his sleep more enjoyable, at most.It was the last time he thought about his family. He soon was to re-join them.
8.-I'm gonna put this shit on Youtube, dawgs! one of them said looking at the footage on his camera.
-That pig deserved it, yo! If it wasn't us, next day it's be him doing one of us. We did a good for humanity.
-He was twitching like a fucking chicken with its head ripped off......
They started laughing. The Gran Torino was not to be driven by amateurs, and he was less than amateur. The colour red of the traffic lights seemed like the revenge of the red blood they had been spilling earlyer when they met their dead-end. There was no high-school tomorrow, there was no more walk-ability for one of them tomorrow, there was no more group tomorrow.
They had been sent to different prisons.
9.The slick-clothed old man picked up the phone.
-So, is it taken care of? Have you got them?
He paused, listening the other end's answer.
-Oh, good. Go back at his house and burn it to the ground. I don't want anything tying him to me, understood?
He put the phone down.
The day had been fruitfull for business, three organs meant 50-60 thousand altogether. One of his bodyguards whispered something in his ear. He listened carefully and he nodded.
-Yes, ok, bring him in.
The man that had entered the office saluted him and took a seat.
-I've been told that you could help me...
The older man didn't respond, taking time with his observation.
-It depends what kind of help you need. Nevertheless I'm sure I can do something for you in exchange of something else, of course...
The old man grinned. The shit was getting better and better.
SIDE B.(The conscience)
1.''I really can't remember the first time I've smoked. To tell you the truth, I don't think I want to. I haven't thought about getting it, I mean there's millions of bastards smoking out there and they ain't having it. I just had to get it.And that prick doctor of mine could've told me in advance. It wouldn't have mattered, but still the thought counts. What's left now? To smoke my lungs out till ain't nothing left of them, fuck it, maybe that way cancer will go away as well.''
2.''Look, I ain't trying to explain my choice. You can't feel my feelings, you can't live my life, therefor don't make any assumptions. Anyway I don't think you could fully understand unless you'd be in my shoes. I've made a decision and I'm sticking with it. No backing off anymore, otherwise I'll be regreting it in a few years from now, I'll be going crazy or some shit like that. There's nobody out there that can change my mind.''
3.''What would you do if you were me? If you'd have an unemployed mom, a dad that doesn't call, not even on birthdays and no people to support you. You wouldn't know what to answer, would you? Cause you all live in your little perfect worlds and you wouldn't want it any other way. You see, for me, it's the same. I'm escaping this reality for something better. Drugs offer me this chance to have it all and I'm taking it. Where I'm going on my ''trips'' ain't no poverty, ain't no ordinary life burden, it's just me having everything.''
4.a)''It was wrong not to pass by her. I should've gone to her and apologise. How hard could that be? Actually, fuck that, she never did apologise to me for cheating. I mean, she did, but I don't think she was sincere, or was her? I'll never know now, will I?''
b)'' How did we get here? We started as a happy couple, there was a chemistry between us. Now poof, it's gone! We keep fighting like we actually enjoy doing it. It's stupid. I should've apologised, it wouldn't have been the end of the world...tell him I stil love him.Now, he'll never know that, will he?''
5.''It wasn't supposed to happen. I ain't got no other words to reffer to the whole situation. My tears won't make me feel better. After the bruises are gone, I won't feel better. Yes, I can start fresh again, but that guy took a piece of me and there's no way I can have it back. Sold merchandise is not changeable. What a way to fuck up my life, huh?''
6.''I don't give a fuck about any of your opinions. I've got the money so I can do pretty much every-fucking-thing. Drugs-check, booze-check, orgies-check. Now, go get yourself a job and stop babbling about my shit.''
7.'' Yes, I still think about them. Because I couldn't see me without them. I just couldn't have a house and a family. That's why I chose the life I've got. Besides, what does it mean to have a house. Does it make one stronger or a better person? I don't think so. Does a car transform one in a superhuman, I'd say no. People tend to take that too seriously. Without someone to share those with, they don't mean anything. And I didn't want to be like those people. If I'll be here tomorrow, I don't know , but I don't mind, it's ok.But do you?''
8.''It's survival of the fittest, niggaz. These muthafuckaz out there have got gunz and gangz, we've got to act up, nah mean? It was either us or him. And a dead nigger is always better than us dead. say what you will. This ain't racism, it's just our truth. They don't deserve to be here in the first place, fuck them, back to the sugar canes plantations, niggers!''
9.''This is the last chance I've got. Either this or it's dead end. It's been dead end for me all these years, I don't want my kids to have to deal with the same life as mine. I'd rather give my life for a brighter future for them.''
SIDE C.( The meeting)
They all woke up in one room. A blank white room, no windows, no doors, no lights, just plain white. Him in the centre, them around Him, forming a circle, seated, looking at one another. It was their first time they's see each other, and probably the last as well.
They wanted to shout and scream and speak, but they couldn't. Silence fell over the room. He looked everybody in the eye and spoke.
-The reason I've brought you here is simple. You're all been given lives, but at one point or another you've started to lose control over them. You've taken them for granted.Either that it's auto-destruction in Matt's case, or just something ricocheting from other people's lives, as Johhny here. But I'm giving you the opportunity to have another life. And this is how it's gonna work: you'll be sent back with another identity which you'll live until you've realised the mistakes you've done in your past existence. But don't haste yourselves, you've only got one life, treasure it. I can't choose for you, nor I can make you do something against your wills, but be aware you're given this opportunity, whomever doesn't take advantage of it will suffer its own mistakes again. Don't forget I'm always watching, in case of need you know where to find me: inside yourselves. There can be good from bad and vice-versa, the important thing is how you dosage those two elements within yourselves. And ask your hearts more often than your minds. Sometimes the answers are hidden, but that doesn't mean you can't find them. My friends, I'll be leaving you. I know it's gonna be hard, but you'll make it. Now, go to sleep!...
He waved His hand upon them and they went into a trance-like state of mind, only to wake up being them again.
His ashtray was almost full. He kept staring at it as if it gotten a spell over him. He had gotten a day off from work, he needed to think this well. He saw himself in the doctor's office receiving the news. ''Nah,I don't need this.'' The last couple of cigarettes in his packet were ''inviting'' him for another smoke. He took them and straight to the trashbin.
He had just finished to write the second note. The reflection in the razor didn't show himself anymore. He put it away. ''I don't need this.'' A few minutes later, his mom and the other birthday guests bursted into his room. He didn't have any surprise for them anymore, but him, nor them minded much.
He was looking at the purse. His aunt in the kitchen, talking on the phone. His craving for the much sought-after dose was increasing, but at the same time he looked at the other side of the coin, his young cousin being sick in the hospital.''I don't need this.'' When his aunt returned to the livingroom with the tea pot and cups he asked if he could come along to visit his cousin. No meeting would take place anymore, his pusher would have to trick somebody else, he wasn't gonna be a puppet anymore.
He hadn't had his drinks yet. Sitting at the bar he ordered just a coffee, drank it in a blink of an eye and made for the appartment. She'd sleep still, but it'd be worth it. On his way home, his eyes kept falling on empty beer bottles, broken on the streets. ''I don't need this.'' At home he finally apologised and made love to her in a long time. Things were going for the better.
She was outside the hotel, on the sidewalk, looking up at her rented room window. It was that hour and someone had entered her room,turned the lights on , making noises and breaking furniture. ''I don't need this..not this time.'' She had taken all her stuff in advance. Time to stop by her parents.
As the car was leaving behind the residential area, he stopped.
-What now? his friend asked.
-Get out!
-What?
-Get out I said! Actually I've got a better idea........ He got out himself, looking around and spoke.
-I ain't coming tonight anymore. You take care of Tina. I've got to do something, I'm sorry....Scratch that, I'm not.
-What's wrong with you, bro? You high or something?
But he didn't speak anymore, turning his face away from him.He started to walk up the street as his friend continued the road to the party venue. He could see parts of the city, the lights of the households or business' offices turned off one by one. ''I don't need this.'' When he got to the villa it was 5 in the morning and he used his parent's entrance.
He went to sleep. He didn't want to change anything. He'd see his wife and kid if he'd do this. but it didn't feel right. He could still do a lot with his life till then. ''I don't need this, now.'' He woke up and took a walk in the park he'd been in when sun was up. As he returned his ''place'' was burnt down, but he had another reason to go on with his life. Somebody up there was still looking after him.
The four friends met at their rendez-vous spot. They looked at each-other.
-Should we do this? one asked.
-Yes, we should, we don't need any of this.... the others agreed.
They threw the knife, the baseball bat and camera away and just sat down talking about how it would be the first day of high-school.
He looked at his sleeping kids, having to choose between a not-certain future for them or no future at all.''I'll take my chances, I don't need this.'' He never got to see the Boss' office, instead he spent the day looking for a job. Maybe luck would turn its face onto him this time.
They got together again in the same all-white room. He spoke to them.
-I'm proud of you all. Just don't give up on yourselves like the first times. You don't want to become this...
And he showed them dirt in his left hand.
-Be this!....he blew off some white feathers from his right hand.
-Now, take each-other's hands and remember this moment, remember me, for I won't be here for much longer.
He fell silent as all 12 formed a circle around Him, holding hands, forming one soul altogether.
OUTRO
The hospital room was dark, filled with damp air, drapes were closed. It felt like a grave, just medical machines bleeping made an eerie sound collage.His mom entered the room and turned on the switch. His dad had long time died. He woke up, opening his eyes, trying to smile when he saw his mom. The next day he'd be 33 yo, yet he knew he'd not make it.
-So, how's my fighter? the mom asked.
She looked worried but at peace at the same time. His words felt heavy, but he tried to speak nevertheless.
-I had a dream.....There were lots of people in it and I saved them from their fate . I gave them their lives again.
He started coughing. The IV's pumped medicine into his weak body, there was an apparatus helping his breathing and another one keeping his heartbeat rate in check.
-Easy son, don't force yourself.
He was struggling to keep his voice. His mom took both his hands into hers.
-I saved them...
-Yes son, you did...You rest a bit more, I'll go get some lunch.
She kissed him on the forehead. He smiled.
-I love you!
-I love you too, mom!
She went out the room, merely to catch her breath and let the river of tears flow freely on the red flamy cheeks.With her back against the door she could hear the flat-line signal of the machines that were partly responsible with keeping her son's life prolongued.
He hadn't gotten to see his 33rd birthday. He was dead physically for the world.
But the people in his dream were real, not the product of his imagination. He had saved them. He had given them new chances to do good out of bad, to start fresh again, to live their lives and not just follow a line.
And now he was living inside each one of them.Forever....
Peace and blessings,
Tuemckey
Stories from outside your window (Christmas special)
It hadn't snowed in four days, but the amount of white flakes from previous days was enough to cover up the ground for a few centimeters in a white blanket.If it hadn't been snowing , the month would seem like it's lost its warm festivity family get-together atmosphere that was supposed to bring.But it wasn't like that for everyone. The nicely town centre with its thousand and one marvellous colours would not be seen by them. The dozens of people wearing Santa hats and smiling would not be them.They wouldn't be part of the shopping oppulence in shopping malls. The '' help your next'' Christmas spirit would not reach them. But who were they?
They couldn't remember for how long they'd lived at the outskirts of the city. This part of the neighborhood was the last remaining spot to be getting electricity, but they couldn't even enjoy that, hence not having money to pay the bills. Hot water would come and go as it pleased the mayor. They were both unemployed and the little amount of cash gotten from the State as a supposed help for families in need would scarcely suffice for buying minimal groceries. They had two kids, one of 6 and the other one four years old. It would be a year till the oldest's time to go to school, but the chances of it happening were less than becoming millionaires olaying the Lotto.
Most of the neighborhood looked ripped off of a Middle Ages village and put in modern days times, and its inhabitants were ''keen'' on ''preserving'' the looks of it all.
Infants were playing outside in the snow. Putting up together snowmen or just mere snow-fighting. At least that took hunger off their mind.''Give the kids a toy to play with and they'll forget about everything else, may it be pain, poverty, food or the fact that the clothes they had on would not be changed with anything new this year neither''. That was pretty much summoning the parents' thoughts as they were looking at their offsprings from the appartment.
Normally, when one thinks of Christmas, he\she gets the visuals of laughter\smiling, glasses being filled with good wine and plates with unlimited variety of food. In one word :plentyness. These people's kitchens looked dark, and not just because they lacked light, sad and heavy, as if the ceiling would fall in any minute, unnoticed. There was an old fridge, rusty and empty, and an old oven and a small cupboard containing the less expensive groceries products they could find. This year was bound to be Christmas-less, just like in the past. There was no way they could pull it off with a nice meal. Potatoes and rice, just the usual.
Even though the kids had never seen\met or been given presents from Santa, they were eagerly awaiting him.''You can never know when he'll pop up. Believe he'll arrive and he really will.'' Thta's what the parents were telling them over and over again, after they'd remain empty-handed waiting for their presents. Their clothes looked older than them, and indeed they were.
Evening came and they went into the house. Clothes were soaked up from the snow, their mom hung them above the weak oven fire to get them dry.They were sitting in the cramped bedroom-turned-livingroom watching a black & white tv when their mom shouted ''Dinner's ready!''. They could only imagine the colours and the lights and the joy of kids and grown-ups likewise breathing and living Christmas onto the screen.
The meal looked and tasted like any other meal they had before. It was no special surprise like their parents had promised. But how could they tell them the truth about not having money, about not getting helped by no one, about feeling left out by the rest of the world. They couldn't, the kids wouldn't understand. And maybe the parents hoped and thought themselves of a miracle, in a sense. But it wouldn't arrive. They were like a deserted island in the middle of a clear-blue, full of fish ocean.
The meal had ended. It was time for them to go to bed and say their prayer. They kneeled in front of the only bed they had, crossed their fingers and began : ''Dear Lord, keep us and our parents healthy, make us do good deeds and protect us from evil.''
''And tell Santa to pass by our home tonight.'' the little one added.
They jumped into bed, tucked under the heavy blankets by the parents and given a bretzel each. Those were like sweets for them. They started munching on them, eyes open, thinking about Santa. He hadn't arrived this year neither. He had forgotten about them again. They fell asleep with tears in their eyes.
On the other side of the city, family gathered, songs were sung, stomachs were filled, presents were given. happyness was in the air, and everybody thought ''Oh, it's so swell it's Christmas time and we're so generous to each other!''
But no one thought about anybody else outside their own family.
It had started snowing again, making everything shine in the city's outskirts darkness.There was no laughter to be heard here, no gifts unwrapping, no carols, no Christmas....
Santa Clause had been passing elsewhere, but he hadn't brought anything to them.....
Merry Christmas!!!!????????
They couldn't remember for how long they'd lived at the outskirts of the city. This part of the neighborhood was the last remaining spot to be getting electricity, but they couldn't even enjoy that, hence not having money to pay the bills. Hot water would come and go as it pleased the mayor. They were both unemployed and the little amount of cash gotten from the State as a supposed help for families in need would scarcely suffice for buying minimal groceries. They had two kids, one of 6 and the other one four years old. It would be a year till the oldest's time to go to school, but the chances of it happening were less than becoming millionaires olaying the Lotto.
Most of the neighborhood looked ripped off of a Middle Ages village and put in modern days times, and its inhabitants were ''keen'' on ''preserving'' the looks of it all.
Infants were playing outside in the snow. Putting up together snowmen or just mere snow-fighting. At least that took hunger off their mind.''Give the kids a toy to play with and they'll forget about everything else, may it be pain, poverty, food or the fact that the clothes they had on would not be changed with anything new this year neither''. That was pretty much summoning the parents' thoughts as they were looking at their offsprings from the appartment.
Normally, when one thinks of Christmas, he\she gets the visuals of laughter\smiling, glasses being filled with good wine and plates with unlimited variety of food. In one word :plentyness. These people's kitchens looked dark, and not just because they lacked light, sad and heavy, as if the ceiling would fall in any minute, unnoticed. There was an old fridge, rusty and empty, and an old oven and a small cupboard containing the less expensive groceries products they could find. This year was bound to be Christmas-less, just like in the past. There was no way they could pull it off with a nice meal. Potatoes and rice, just the usual.
Even though the kids had never seen\met or been given presents from Santa, they were eagerly awaiting him.''You can never know when he'll pop up. Believe he'll arrive and he really will.'' Thta's what the parents were telling them over and over again, after they'd remain empty-handed waiting for their presents. Their clothes looked older than them, and indeed they were.
Evening came and they went into the house. Clothes were soaked up from the snow, their mom hung them above the weak oven fire to get them dry.They were sitting in the cramped bedroom-turned-livingroom watching a black & white tv when their mom shouted ''Dinner's ready!''. They could only imagine the colours and the lights and the joy of kids and grown-ups likewise breathing and living Christmas onto the screen.
The meal looked and tasted like any other meal they had before. It was no special surprise like their parents had promised. But how could they tell them the truth about not having money, about not getting helped by no one, about feeling left out by the rest of the world. They couldn't, the kids wouldn't understand. And maybe the parents hoped and thought themselves of a miracle, in a sense. But it wouldn't arrive. They were like a deserted island in the middle of a clear-blue, full of fish ocean.
The meal had ended. It was time for them to go to bed and say their prayer. They kneeled in front of the only bed they had, crossed their fingers and began : ''Dear Lord, keep us and our parents healthy, make us do good deeds and protect us from evil.''
''And tell Santa to pass by our home tonight.'' the little one added.
They jumped into bed, tucked under the heavy blankets by the parents and given a bretzel each. Those were like sweets for them. They started munching on them, eyes open, thinking about Santa. He hadn't arrived this year neither. He had forgotten about them again. They fell asleep with tears in their eyes.
On the other side of the city, family gathered, songs were sung, stomachs were filled, presents were given. happyness was in the air, and everybody thought ''Oh, it's so swell it's Christmas time and we're so generous to each other!''
But no one thought about anybody else outside their own family.
It had started snowing again, making everything shine in the city's outskirts darkness.There was no laughter to be heard here, no gifts unwrapping, no carols, no Christmas....
Santa Clause had been passing elsewhere, but he hadn't brought anything to them.....
Merry Christmas!!!!????????
Stories from outside your window part 9
The room he was ushered in seemed pretty small from the inside.Two wooden libraries stacked with books and photo frames gave an almost claustrophobic feel to it. In front of him a man in his sixties, guarded by two solid, but not excessively large men, sitting behind what it seemed to be a brand-new desk, hence it was clear it was not a piece of the same furniture the libraries were part of.
He got seated in front of the elderly man, greated him and spoke.
-I was told you could help me...
The slick-clothed, jewelry-clad, bald-going man took his time responding, instead prefering to keep eye contact and measure the young man that had just entered his office.
-Well, it depends what kind of help you need...
His tone was calm, yet menacing. It wasn't easy for one to actually ask a favor face to face from him. The younger man could barely control his fingers from shaking and heart-beats. He could almost hear it pounding in his chest, going faster and faster.
-Michael's been telling me about your case and I'm saying yes. But be aware, this is no game, I'm not your friend and most important you can't back out once it's begun.
He paused for a bit.
-I'll give you 5000....
-5000? the young man almost yelled at him.Michael told me at least 8000.I ain't doing it for less than 8.
-Listen son, you've come to me for MY help, thus you're in no fucking position to negociate this shit. Actually, fuck it, maybe I'll put one of my men to whack you on the spot, how about that??!!
His calm tone dissapeared, he was in angry-mode now, sounding like a beast ready to tear the young man in two.
-Go home and have some rest, I'll talk to Michael today, settle everything with him and he'll get to you tomorrow. Now, fuck off!
The young man excused himself, got out of the room and went home. His heart beats were forming a very loud orchestra in his mind now.
He had two infant twins. His wife had died giving birth to them. Left with no help whatsoever, just depending on a small welfare, every day was a struggle. For food, diapers, medicine.He was 26 yo, but he could already count the grey hairs.
Once he arrived home, he prepared some milk for the kids and ''debated'' on the idea of selling one of his kidneys for money. He had no other choice.Either that to make ends meet and maybe move out of town or give his sons to an orphanage and him become a pusher or a bum. He couldn't get a job, didn't have any qualifications, besides the whole ''economy'' was run by the man he had seen earlyer in the office.The ''shark'' of the town. No connections meant no job meant no money meant no life. And he had planned a half-decent life for his kids, if for him was not available.
The second day Michael gave him all the info on how things will have to go down and assured him that everything will be fine and that the Boss keeps memory of people that work with him, and who knows maybe he'll be put on a job-list.
The day the operation was taking place turned out grey and rainy, just like his state of mind. The Boss had supposedly called his personal doctor to carry out the proceedings in the small and poor town hospital. He had agreed to pay his hospital bills after the surgery, whilst the Boss would handle the doctor's fee and anestethics.
The kidney-removal had begun.The supposed-to-be expert surgeon was just a young trainee, doing all he was capable of. Everything by the book. Nevertheless , the anestethics dosage had been too much for the patient to cope, thus his heart went into cardiac arrest. The doctor had removed both the kidneys and liver by the time the Boss had sent word not to spare the young man's life.
On the black market each organ would cost roughly 15 to 30 thousand, depending on demand. It was good business and it was growing bigger and bigger, the people were no problem to find.
The Boss' men sealed the organs, dated the containers and sent them away. The young man lying on the surgery table, butchered, cuts still open, got sent to the incinerator. They hadn't even payed him in advance.
His kids would be crying by now. He had locked the door.A week back he had thought things were going for the better, now it was clear that was not the case.
He had wanted to sell his kidney for his kids, but in fact he had sold the chance for his kids to have a decent life........
He got seated in front of the elderly man, greated him and spoke.
-I was told you could help me...
The slick-clothed, jewelry-clad, bald-going man took his time responding, instead prefering to keep eye contact and measure the young man that had just entered his office.
-Well, it depends what kind of help you need...
His tone was calm, yet menacing. It wasn't easy for one to actually ask a favor face to face from him. The younger man could barely control his fingers from shaking and heart-beats. He could almost hear it pounding in his chest, going faster and faster.
-Michael's been telling me about your case and I'm saying yes. But be aware, this is no game, I'm not your friend and most important you can't back out once it's begun.
He paused for a bit.
-I'll give you 5000....
-5000? the young man almost yelled at him.Michael told me at least 8000.I ain't doing it for less than 8.
-Listen son, you've come to me for MY help, thus you're in no fucking position to negociate this shit. Actually, fuck it, maybe I'll put one of my men to whack you on the spot, how about that??!!
His calm tone dissapeared, he was in angry-mode now, sounding like a beast ready to tear the young man in two.
-Go home and have some rest, I'll talk to Michael today, settle everything with him and he'll get to you tomorrow. Now, fuck off!
The young man excused himself, got out of the room and went home. His heart beats were forming a very loud orchestra in his mind now.
He had two infant twins. His wife had died giving birth to them. Left with no help whatsoever, just depending on a small welfare, every day was a struggle. For food, diapers, medicine.He was 26 yo, but he could already count the grey hairs.
Once he arrived home, he prepared some milk for the kids and ''debated'' on the idea of selling one of his kidneys for money. He had no other choice.Either that to make ends meet and maybe move out of town or give his sons to an orphanage and him become a pusher or a bum. He couldn't get a job, didn't have any qualifications, besides the whole ''economy'' was run by the man he had seen earlyer in the office.The ''shark'' of the town. No connections meant no job meant no money meant no life. And he had planned a half-decent life for his kids, if for him was not available.
The second day Michael gave him all the info on how things will have to go down and assured him that everything will be fine and that the Boss keeps memory of people that work with him, and who knows maybe he'll be put on a job-list.
The day the operation was taking place turned out grey and rainy, just like his state of mind. The Boss had supposedly called his personal doctor to carry out the proceedings in the small and poor town hospital. He had agreed to pay his hospital bills after the surgery, whilst the Boss would handle the doctor's fee and anestethics.
The kidney-removal had begun.The supposed-to-be expert surgeon was just a young trainee, doing all he was capable of. Everything by the book. Nevertheless , the anestethics dosage had been too much for the patient to cope, thus his heart went into cardiac arrest. The doctor had removed both the kidneys and liver by the time the Boss had sent word not to spare the young man's life.
On the black market each organ would cost roughly 15 to 30 thousand, depending on demand. It was good business and it was growing bigger and bigger, the people were no problem to find.
The Boss' men sealed the organs, dated the containers and sent them away. The young man lying on the surgery table, butchered, cuts still open, got sent to the incinerator. They hadn't even payed him in advance.
His kids would be crying by now. He had locked the door.A week back he had thought things were going for the better, now it was clear that was not the case.
He had wanted to sell his kidney for his kids, but in fact he had sold the chance for his kids to have a decent life........
Stories from outside your window part 8
The four friends met at their rendez-vous spot. Exchanged handshakes and back pats. They had known each other for several years years now and formed their own group . It was their last day together and they had decided to spend it as a collective memory setup, something they could all talk about yaers after. They had the same age and more or less the same interests, music and movie wise. Other than that, they shared this peculiar form of violence.
-So, what are we gonna do tonight? one of them asked, looking the other three in the eyes.
-Well, drinking comes out of the ecuation. That shit is overrated, my niggas.
They weren't black , but they acted, talked and dressed like the stereotypical ghetto guy that hip hop videos create into one's mind.
-We've got to act up! Do some crazy shit, we might not see each other from tomorrow on. I mean we'll do, but shit, not like up until now.I'll be here, Mark and Jonesy will be sent to the other neighborhood and by the time we know it, we won't even remember our phone numbers. And that is fucked-up, my niggas.
-Word! the others reacted.
-Have you got the camera? the first one named Phill asked George, the one that had gathered them all.
-Yeah, dawg! Fo' sho'! And he took it out his baggies, showing it to the rest of the gang.
-I got it from this asshole that asked fifty bucks for it. I put my knife under his balls, he let go of his wallet plus the camera. Can you believe the prick? 50 bucks!? Fucking jerk!
They all started to laugh. They decided to move on and on the way they'd find something worth of rising their adrenaline to wanted level. They looked like a rip-off version of Alex and his droogs, all hungry to whoop some ass.
Firstly they broke a window of a electronics store. Didn't want to take anything from inside, just make some noise and some rumble. By the time they had gotten to the second and third stores trashed it had already gotten midnight.. The boys needed another kind of excitement. This was just a warm-up. They reached a deserted car-wash where inspiration struck them. They had a marvellous plan to have fun. After several attemps, George stopped a car.The only lights around were the traffic ones, the streets and surroundings looking eerie in the dark.
-Help me please, sir, my friend is hurt.He got hit by a car.We've got to get him to a hospital.
-What?.....the guy behind the wheel tried to ask back.But it was too late to get anything figured out.The street was poorly-lit, to say at most.As soon as the driver got out the car, Phill came swiftly behind him, kicking him with a baseball bat. The guy fell on the floor, gasping for air. The other two jumped on his back, holding him, George took out his knife pointing it to the driver's throat.The man was black, the adventure of the four could have not been better.
-Listen up, you piece of shit. Either you do as we say or you'll see your blood sprayed all over this goddamn nice Grand Torino.
The driver nodded.
-Now, get behind the wheel and get us to the old Billie's warehouse.
All five of them jumped in the car.George was still holding the knife at the black guy's throat from the back seat.
-Don't go too fast or too slow, nigger. Don't do stupid shit, don't fuck this up.
The driver was sweating like a pig. It was around 28 degrees C, but one could not close its eyes in front of the situation he was in as a major key pawn in his heavy perspiration. They reached the warehouse.
It was an abandoned site, one of the many closed facilities that lost its labouring hands to robots and production lines when the big economic boom had hit the city.
One could easily mistake it for a haunted site, hence it looked like witches and demons would call it a proper home.
They tied him to a water tube, stripping him waist up. Pointing three flashlights into the black guy's face, they created a blinding envrironment for them to consume thir sadic violence thirst. On the other hand, their faces were impossible to make out in the dark.They started kicking the blck man, punching him, taking turns. Each blow was stronger, faster, more violent than the previous ones.
-You niggers, you reek like shit even after taking a shower...Do you want to take a shower now, nigger? asked Jonesy.
But the black guy barely could lift his head and keep his eyes open, much less responding.
George, the knife expert, then started to carv lines with the blade into their ''fun mascot for the night''s flesh.
The whole torture had taken more than 40 minutes to perform and had left the hungry-fo-blood pack exhausted, their victim with all his ribs broken, one kneecap squashed by the baseball bat, twitching violently in his last stages of life. A prisoner at Guantanamo would've blushed seeying the bruises on the young man's crippled body. It was time for the next step.
-Mark, start recording this shit, dawg....said Jonesy.It's going down...
Phill took the knife from George asking if he was allowed to have the pleasure.
-For you nigga, everything, do us proud! screamed George.
With a swift move of his arm, the blade cut thick into the victim's jugular.
-This is how we used to kill pigs at my grandpa's time. Die pig-nigger, die! was yelling Phill triumphantly.
The black man could not hear him anymore, he was dead, not only his body tortured, but the look on his face too.
The young jackals had graduated from Junior KKK to full-time Charles Manson's followers.
They turned off the flashlights and left the warehouse,the black man still tied to the water tube, blood dripping from his throat. They jumped in the car and drove off.
None was really a driver, but Phill took out the spot, he had learned a bit from his alcoholic dad when he used to work at a garage.The awainting next day was the one that had led them to get together for fun session. They were only 15 and going to highschool, different ones.
Not having much experience with handling a steering wheel, Phill had crashed into another car, when traffic lights were red. The next day, they were brought to a hospital, all being in grave conditons, Jonesy being serious wounded, not able to walk anymore from the hit he had taken to his spine. A correctional facility was awaiting them all, as soon as the injuries had been cured and they had gotten out of the hospital.
It was the first day of highschool, but the bells didn't ring for them.....
-So, what are we gonna do tonight? one of them asked, looking the other three in the eyes.
-Well, drinking comes out of the ecuation. That shit is overrated, my niggas.
They weren't black , but they acted, talked and dressed like the stereotypical ghetto guy that hip hop videos create into one's mind.
-We've got to act up! Do some crazy shit, we might not see each other from tomorrow on. I mean we'll do, but shit, not like up until now.I'll be here, Mark and Jonesy will be sent to the other neighborhood and by the time we know it, we won't even remember our phone numbers. And that is fucked-up, my niggas.
-Word! the others reacted.
-Have you got the camera? the first one named Phill asked George, the one that had gathered them all.
-Yeah, dawg! Fo' sho'! And he took it out his baggies, showing it to the rest of the gang.
-I got it from this asshole that asked fifty bucks for it. I put my knife under his balls, he let go of his wallet plus the camera. Can you believe the prick? 50 bucks!? Fucking jerk!
They all started to laugh. They decided to move on and on the way they'd find something worth of rising their adrenaline to wanted level. They looked like a rip-off version of Alex and his droogs, all hungry to whoop some ass.
Firstly they broke a window of a electronics store. Didn't want to take anything from inside, just make some noise and some rumble. By the time they had gotten to the second and third stores trashed it had already gotten midnight.. The boys needed another kind of excitement. This was just a warm-up. They reached a deserted car-wash where inspiration struck them. They had a marvellous plan to have fun. After several attemps, George stopped a car.The only lights around were the traffic ones, the streets and surroundings looking eerie in the dark.
-Help me please, sir, my friend is hurt.He got hit by a car.We've got to get him to a hospital.
-What?.....the guy behind the wheel tried to ask back.But it was too late to get anything figured out.The street was poorly-lit, to say at most.As soon as the driver got out the car, Phill came swiftly behind him, kicking him with a baseball bat. The guy fell on the floor, gasping for air. The other two jumped on his back, holding him, George took out his knife pointing it to the driver's throat.The man was black, the adventure of the four could have not been better.
-Listen up, you piece of shit. Either you do as we say or you'll see your blood sprayed all over this goddamn nice Grand Torino.
The driver nodded.
-Now, get behind the wheel and get us to the old Billie's warehouse.
All five of them jumped in the car.George was still holding the knife at the black guy's throat from the back seat.
-Don't go too fast or too slow, nigger. Don't do stupid shit, don't fuck this up.
The driver was sweating like a pig. It was around 28 degrees C, but one could not close its eyes in front of the situation he was in as a major key pawn in his heavy perspiration. They reached the warehouse.
It was an abandoned site, one of the many closed facilities that lost its labouring hands to robots and production lines when the big economic boom had hit the city.
One could easily mistake it for a haunted site, hence it looked like witches and demons would call it a proper home.
They tied him to a water tube, stripping him waist up. Pointing three flashlights into the black guy's face, they created a blinding envrironment for them to consume thir sadic violence thirst. On the other hand, their faces were impossible to make out in the dark.They started kicking the blck man, punching him, taking turns. Each blow was stronger, faster, more violent than the previous ones.
-You niggers, you reek like shit even after taking a shower...Do you want to take a shower now, nigger? asked Jonesy.
But the black guy barely could lift his head and keep his eyes open, much less responding.
George, the knife expert, then started to carv lines with the blade into their ''fun mascot for the night''s flesh.
The whole torture had taken more than 40 minutes to perform and had left the hungry-fo-blood pack exhausted, their victim with all his ribs broken, one kneecap squashed by the baseball bat, twitching violently in his last stages of life. A prisoner at Guantanamo would've blushed seeying the bruises on the young man's crippled body. It was time for the next step.
-Mark, start recording this shit, dawg....said Jonesy.It's going down...
Phill took the knife from George asking if he was allowed to have the pleasure.
-For you nigga, everything, do us proud! screamed George.
With a swift move of his arm, the blade cut thick into the victim's jugular.
-This is how we used to kill pigs at my grandpa's time. Die pig-nigger, die! was yelling Phill triumphantly.
The black man could not hear him anymore, he was dead, not only his body tortured, but the look on his face too.
The young jackals had graduated from Junior KKK to full-time Charles Manson's followers.
They turned off the flashlights and left the warehouse,the black man still tied to the water tube, blood dripping from his throat. They jumped in the car and drove off.
None was really a driver, but Phill took out the spot, he had learned a bit from his alcoholic dad when he used to work at a garage.The awainting next day was the one that had led them to get together for fun session. They were only 15 and going to highschool, different ones.
Not having much experience with handling a steering wheel, Phill had crashed into another car, when traffic lights were red. The next day, they were brought to a hospital, all being in grave conditons, Jonesy being serious wounded, not able to walk anymore from the hit he had taken to his spine. A correctional facility was awaiting them all, as soon as the injuries had been cured and they had gotten out of the hospital.
It was the first day of highschool, but the bells didn't ring for them.....
Melancholy aka The last days of summer(dedicated to Moromete, written today 28th August)
Birds fly south and trees shed skin
the flowers die and the leaves fly
to another world, away from pain and sin
where children play in the fields of rye
the painting of it all looks dark and grey
people are covering their bodies more and more
although it's still sunny and everything's ok
we feel the warmth of summer, but we're cold at the core
we're waiting for a new cycle to arrive
winter will pass and leave its heavy print
only for our hearts to blossom and to thrive
summer will return, for now it's gone with the wind.
T.
the flowers die and the leaves fly
to another world, away from pain and sin
where children play in the fields of rye
the painting of it all looks dark and grey
people are covering their bodies more and more
although it's still sunny and everything's ok
we feel the warmth of summer, but we're cold at the core
we're waiting for a new cycle to arrive
winter will pass and leave its heavy print
only for our hearts to blossom and to thrive
summer will return, for now it's gone with the wind.
T.
A poem written on August 24th....
that goes like this..........
Every second of your life that slips away
every smile lost to eternity, every word you didn't say
every thought you didn't put to work
every chance you didn't take in consideration
every decision that you'll have to take when you get to the fork
in the road, this is my cry for liberation.
This is my joy, my pride, my pain, my sorrow
my youth, my death, my hope to see tomorrow
the hope to be still here and breathe fresh air
to see waves caress your skin while in the sea
the sun sends out a warning but we don't care
our mouths are shut, we look but we don't see.
Bless,
T.
Every second of your life that slips away
every smile lost to eternity, every word you didn't say
every thought you didn't put to work
every chance you didn't take in consideration
every decision that you'll have to take when you get to the fork
in the road, this is my cry for liberation.
This is my joy, my pride, my pain, my sorrow
my youth, my death, my hope to see tomorrow
the hope to be still here and breathe fresh air
to see waves caress your skin while in the sea
the sun sends out a warning but we don't care
our mouths are shut, we look but we don't see.
Bless,
T.
domenica 23 agosto 2009
People-tagging
Did you have any of those days when you get back home and you can't but think at a certain glare, stare, remark that anyone has made to you just cause you've talked in a certain way, walked out of fashion, acted out or plain wore something inadequate? That, boys and girls, is stereotyping.Or, as I like to call it myself, people-tagging, as in people with tags attached to themselves.I don't mean the eye visible ones, but there are folks out there that carry these tags(burdens) cause you can sense it.Most of the cases a tagging process takes place due to one's belonging to a comunity e.g. black, hispanic or any other, for that matter. And why do we stereotype people? Cause we can't accept the truth bout them!Cause it'e easyer to just pass someone and not ask questions. We, as humans, like to keep things as simple as possible.Handshakes, saying hi and we're done with the conversation. We don't want to dwelve deeper into anyone's life, habits , personality, thus it comes off a smoother path to just label persons we don't know, rather than taking the time to do so.
Maybe there's a black guy out there that wants to be a lawyer or wants to be into politics, that hasn't got the time to play basketball and whatnot, but we'll always see him around with baggies, in a lowrider, pumping that hip hop sound. Maybe a Chinese guy is an IT expert and dedicates his time to invent new software, instead of copying everything else and put another name on it and sell it as cheap as possible. Maybe not all Italians are mafia men, maybe not all Romanians are gypsies, maybe not all Russians are constantly drunk on vodka. These are just some examples on how we want, and like , to see the world.
It's in our mentality, a mentality that ourselves have created and that won't be easy to tear down and build from scratch again. We'll just have to live on carrying these tags around our necks, waiting for our turn to be displayed in the windows so that the world can exercise its stereotype-thinking on each and one of us.
You'll have to excuse me for now, I've just been labeled as a beer-drinker while writing and apparently the lager's waiting. I'll have to comply, otherwise who knows what else they might label me.
From this other side of the bottle, over and out(for now).
T.
Maybe there's a black guy out there that wants to be a lawyer or wants to be into politics, that hasn't got the time to play basketball and whatnot, but we'll always see him around with baggies, in a lowrider, pumping that hip hop sound. Maybe a Chinese guy is an IT expert and dedicates his time to invent new software, instead of copying everything else and put another name on it and sell it as cheap as possible. Maybe not all Italians are mafia men, maybe not all Romanians are gypsies, maybe not all Russians are constantly drunk on vodka. These are just some examples on how we want, and like , to see the world.
It's in our mentality, a mentality that ourselves have created and that won't be easy to tear down and build from scratch again. We'll just have to live on carrying these tags around our necks, waiting for our turn to be displayed in the windows so that the world can exercise its stereotype-thinking on each and one of us.
You'll have to excuse me for now, I've just been labeled as a beer-drinker while writing and apparently the lager's waiting. I'll have to comply, otherwise who knows what else they might label me.
From this other side of the bottle, over and out(for now).
T.
lunedì 17 agosto 2009
Chris's ideas...
During my sea hours yesterday, between a lager and another lager, I got caught in a small conversation with one of my mates, Chris about junkies and their role in society. Well, you see, they have none....I admit, they're still souls and they're still like us, to a certain extent, but bloody hell we, the others, don't have to drug ourselves to get by. Recently I've tried to put myself in drug addicts shoes, how does one think, what does one do to get a dose and , although I've come up with a few conclusions, I still can't figure out the mechanism that's triggered in their minds that tells them ''do drugs, do drugs!''. And to come back to my first idea, they have no role in society. Granted, they do keep alive this multi-national billion dollars drug industry that the whole world is living on and from, but still, to us non-addicts, they're useless.
So, ok, we take them off the streets, we pay their rehabilitation, but the thing is, they'll never get off drugs once they're released. ''Go on,be a good boy, don't do any drugs, cause we've no more spare beds here, mate''. Can you see that happen? Cause I can see the junkie grinning back at the doctor that got him out the drug circle in the first place, pointing the finger at him saying ''you ain't my dad, I had none anyhow, he was a fuckiiinnnn drug addict, that prick!'' and off to the first dose.
Instead of that happening, why don't they build these centers that , once they take the drugs out, teach them how to work and keep their minds free and hands busy.I'm talking bout doing something , giving back to society....
In case that doesn't work why not use them as lab rats.Oohhh...harsh term, innit? Like I couldn't care less....Why do they keep experimenting on animals and such when you've got the perfect subjects out there. Think of all the supposed cures for cancer and AIDS and the likes these junkies might help find, if only they could be part of experiments.And nobody would look at them like no-gooders and despicable, less-than-human persons. If they've chosen to throw away their lives, we might as well use them a bit till they finish with their plans. Don't you think?
I'm off to refresh myself with a lager, cause I'm quite addicted to it.
Cheers to Chris for pointing out the ideas.
T.
So, ok, we take them off the streets, we pay their rehabilitation, but the thing is, they'll never get off drugs once they're released. ''Go on,be a good boy, don't do any drugs, cause we've no more spare beds here, mate''. Can you see that happen? Cause I can see the junkie grinning back at the doctor that got him out the drug circle in the first place, pointing the finger at him saying ''you ain't my dad, I had none anyhow, he was a fuckiiinnnn drug addict, that prick!'' and off to the first dose.
Instead of that happening, why don't they build these centers that , once they take the drugs out, teach them how to work and keep their minds free and hands busy.I'm talking bout doing something , giving back to society....
In case that doesn't work why not use them as lab rats.Oohhh...harsh term, innit? Like I couldn't care less....Why do they keep experimenting on animals and such when you've got the perfect subjects out there. Think of all the supposed cures for cancer and AIDS and the likes these junkies might help find, if only they could be part of experiments.And nobody would look at them like no-gooders and despicable, less-than-human persons. If they've chosen to throw away their lives, we might as well use them a bit till they finish with their plans. Don't you think?
I'm off to refresh myself with a lager, cause I'm quite addicted to it.
Cheers to Chris for pointing out the ideas.
T.
Stories from outside your window part 7
His days were pretty much the same to everybody but him.He found so many details differentiating one day from another, he just had to smile when people asked him ''That's all you do?''
.His schedule was pretty simple if one would sum it up : waking up whenever mood struck him, washing up, getting something to eat and just enjoy the day for all its flaws or good things it brought.
Washing up wasn't an impossible thing to do, hence he had a small fountain near the place he slept, where he rudimentary brushed his teeth using salt as toothpaste and his finger as brush. Besides, the friendly-looking, proud beer-belly owner, proprietor of a bar a couple blocks away where he spent most of his time, allowed him to take a shower every once in a while in the personnel private toilet.
With food, that was something else. He didn't eat every day. That was luxury. The nearest social centre was three miles away and it was taking him a lot on foot.
Plus, the centre had its hours for breakfast and lunch or dinner and counted seats.It could not fit more people than the seats at tables.He sometimes was left out, hence everybody else was always pushing to get in.He was about 60 years old, grey haired, not fat but not thin either, his constantly red cheeks showed he wasn't lacking health either.
He was going to the park. He liked hanging out there. He had taken his lunch. There wasn't much hassle to get in today. The sun was shining bright, a typical May day.He got seated at a bench.The park looked quiet and relaxed, just the thing he needed and liked. There were kids trying the swings or playing different games, watched closely by the more and more impatient mothers.
He was contemplating on his life.
The life of others. His connection with the outer world. He was living in a world of his own. There were no material values for him, no schedule,just a simple and easy life, the way he thought it should be in the first place. He liked contemplating. Besides he didn't have much to do anyway. He used to have a family , a job, a home, a safe living, but it all had ended when he had lost his wife and infant in a fire.
He had fallen into a depression soon afterwards and even though he had managed to break free from his memories and past, he could never start a new family again. Jobs came and went, houses likewise till one point where he gave it all away for a simple existence.All that he had made after his depression had gone to various environmental groups and drug-free associations.
He had felt that was the way to break himself free of what he was calling now outer-world.He looked at the mothers minding their offsprings.
Their faces and constant watch-checks made think think they were the career type-the ones that'd leave their kids with so-called babysitters and get along with their business rather than spend some actual time with them and try to teach them or create a special environment for their kids to grow in. And the kids looked like they'd seen a green space and breathed fresh air for the first time in their lives. SUV's were waiting the moms-kids convoy that soon took its departure.He was left almost alone in the park, sharing its thoughts with just a few pensionates that were reading newspapers.
He was thinking about people. People that he never gotten to be. Yet he could relate to them from his imagination.People that cared more about going out to dinner than looking after their kids. People that wore brand clothes but ate at McDonald's just to show off.
People that payed 15 thousand euros on a watch or jewelry whilst the same amount would feed hundreds.
People that buyed luxury magazines but couldn't afford going on holidays, or visiting 5 star hotels or buying a yacht. Just the thought of these kinds of people drooling over mate pages of colorful photos in magazines made him annoyed.
He wasn't part of the group, nor he wanted to be. His once tragic fate and now simple life were more than enough. Actually he was thankful for not having much nowadays, cause the more one had, the more one wanted.
He considered himself blessed that life hadn't given up on him all these years.Hours passed. It was time for him to get going. He left the park, shaking his numb limbs, taking deep breaths.On his way to his carton-based lair, he met some fellow street-sleepers with whom he chatted more time. Every one of them had a storyto tell, may it be a personal one or just something they might've witnessed during the day
.Some stories veered into nonsense terittory, but it was beter having a laugh or a discussion rather than scrapping through litter for a rotten banana or thrown-away sandwich. And these examples were top-A suppers.He reached his ''home''.
Newspapers topping cartons topping rags topping garbage.
If one would have to describe his resting place in a few words. Dark had put its hand onto day, he didn't know the time, nor did he want to.He put a jacket on cause night might turn tricky and sometimes rainy and said a prayer.
The pillow made of ripped clothes looked the least uncomfortable but this wasn't a spa.
He fell asleep, heavily snoring.
Never to wake up again the next morning. During the night someone had thrown a halfway-finished cigarette next to his piles of papers, creating a spark of fire that soon spread cause of the abundancy of fire-friendly material.
He hadn't even made in time to wake up to save himself.
And all this time he hadn't given up on his life, nevertheless the lows he had been going through. But now life had a vengeance, life had given up on him.....
.His schedule was pretty simple if one would sum it up : waking up whenever mood struck him, washing up, getting something to eat and just enjoy the day for all its flaws or good things it brought.
Washing up wasn't an impossible thing to do, hence he had a small fountain near the place he slept, where he rudimentary brushed his teeth using salt as toothpaste and his finger as brush. Besides, the friendly-looking, proud beer-belly owner, proprietor of a bar a couple blocks away where he spent most of his time, allowed him to take a shower every once in a while in the personnel private toilet.
With food, that was something else. He didn't eat every day. That was luxury. The nearest social centre was three miles away and it was taking him a lot on foot.
Plus, the centre had its hours for breakfast and lunch or dinner and counted seats.It could not fit more people than the seats at tables.He sometimes was left out, hence everybody else was always pushing to get in.He was about 60 years old, grey haired, not fat but not thin either, his constantly red cheeks showed he wasn't lacking health either.
He was going to the park. He liked hanging out there. He had taken his lunch. There wasn't much hassle to get in today. The sun was shining bright, a typical May day.He got seated at a bench.The park looked quiet and relaxed, just the thing he needed and liked. There were kids trying the swings or playing different games, watched closely by the more and more impatient mothers.
He was contemplating on his life.
The life of others. His connection with the outer world. He was living in a world of his own. There were no material values for him, no schedule,just a simple and easy life, the way he thought it should be in the first place. He liked contemplating. Besides he didn't have much to do anyway. He used to have a family , a job, a home, a safe living, but it all had ended when he had lost his wife and infant in a fire.
He had fallen into a depression soon afterwards and even though he had managed to break free from his memories and past, he could never start a new family again. Jobs came and went, houses likewise till one point where he gave it all away for a simple existence.All that he had made after his depression had gone to various environmental groups and drug-free associations.
He had felt that was the way to break himself free of what he was calling now outer-world.He looked at the mothers minding their offsprings.
Their faces and constant watch-checks made think think they were the career type-the ones that'd leave their kids with so-called babysitters and get along with their business rather than spend some actual time with them and try to teach them or create a special environment for their kids to grow in. And the kids looked like they'd seen a green space and breathed fresh air for the first time in their lives. SUV's were waiting the moms-kids convoy that soon took its departure.He was left almost alone in the park, sharing its thoughts with just a few pensionates that were reading newspapers.
He was thinking about people. People that he never gotten to be. Yet he could relate to them from his imagination.People that cared more about going out to dinner than looking after their kids. People that wore brand clothes but ate at McDonald's just to show off.
People that payed 15 thousand euros on a watch or jewelry whilst the same amount would feed hundreds.
People that buyed luxury magazines but couldn't afford going on holidays, or visiting 5 star hotels or buying a yacht. Just the thought of these kinds of people drooling over mate pages of colorful photos in magazines made him annoyed.
He wasn't part of the group, nor he wanted to be. His once tragic fate and now simple life were more than enough. Actually he was thankful for not having much nowadays, cause the more one had, the more one wanted.
He considered himself blessed that life hadn't given up on him all these years.Hours passed. It was time for him to get going. He left the park, shaking his numb limbs, taking deep breaths.On his way to his carton-based lair, he met some fellow street-sleepers with whom he chatted more time. Every one of them had a storyto tell, may it be a personal one or just something they might've witnessed during the day
.Some stories veered into nonsense terittory, but it was beter having a laugh or a discussion rather than scrapping through litter for a rotten banana or thrown-away sandwich. And these examples were top-A suppers.He reached his ''home''.
Newspapers topping cartons topping rags topping garbage.
If one would have to describe his resting place in a few words. Dark had put its hand onto day, he didn't know the time, nor did he want to.He put a jacket on cause night might turn tricky and sometimes rainy and said a prayer.
The pillow made of ripped clothes looked the least uncomfortable but this wasn't a spa.
He fell asleep, heavily snoring.
Never to wake up again the next morning. During the night someone had thrown a halfway-finished cigarette next to his piles of papers, creating a spark of fire that soon spread cause of the abundancy of fire-friendly material.
He hadn't even made in time to wake up to save himself.
And all this time he hadn't given up on his life, nevertheless the lows he had been going through. But now life had a vengeance, life had given up on him.....
Stories from outside your window part 6
He woke up with a terrible hangover. His whole body felling dizzy and beaten. He looked at his Rolex, it showed half past one in the afternoon, too early for him to actually rise up and start the day. He looked around to see where she was.
He remembered bringing back a girl to his place the previous night, but she wasn't in his bed anymore. If she ever gotten there in the first place. ''She did'' he thought. ''There's nobody resisting me''.
He went back to sleep, drowning his face in the pillow. He tried to ignore the sun outside, but at one point he opened his eyes again.
-Shit, I hate this!
He decided to actually get out of bed. He'd been partying all night long till six in the morning. two in the afternoon was no regular hour for him to wake up.More like 5 in the evening, like vampires.
He was a ''vampire'', he barely went out during the day...night was his thing.
He got out of bed, put some slippers on his feet, took a cold shower and then turned on the tv. Lit himself a cigarette. His room looked like a teen's room, although he was 21 years of age, he liked to cling onto his teens a bit longer.
The house the room was part of was a different thing altogether.
It stood on a hill overlooking the city, had a magnificent garden, a pool and one basketball court, amongst other things. Spanish tiles, the finest parquet and esquisite tapestry found their place in the villa.
The neighbors, few and quite rich themselves, were calling the house ''Eden mansion'', hence it lacked nothing that anyone would need, like, want at any point in life.
As he was skipping through international channels on his larger-than-life tv ensemble, he made an order to a pizza company and got himself a peperoni-topped pizza, with extra cheese. Finished two cans of Coke light till delivery time and called his best friend and party asscociate.
-Ey Brad, it's me. Aw, shit man, my head is killing me...
-Tell me about it. Like I wasn't there..
-I know man, but shit..This time we banged it too hard.
-What the fuck' wrong with you? Are you ok, Matt? That weed's gotten to you that much..?!
-Just kidding, asshole. Just kidding. Listen, tonight we're off to Crises and then to ''The Hyve'', all right? It's friday baby, let's celebrate. Call Tina to gather up the girls, it's gonna be a night we won't forget!! Pick you up at your place , normal time....
He put the phone down. The pizza had arrived. He hadn't much to do in his days off. It can't be said he had working and free days. they were all lokk-alikes. His parents were filthy rich, his dad owning a major oil refinery corporation, making him ''The Boss'' in town. His properties ranged from restaurants and bars to shoe-stores and such. And all he had to do was learn how to run his dad's business, one day he'd take over.
All his life, up till now, had been filled with personal trainers, teachers, nutritionists, stylists. He could barely wipe his own ass, for that matter.
His parents were out of town for holiday. Gone to a God-forsaken island in the Aegean Sea, Europe. He either didn't remember the name or couldn't pronounce it. He's barely see his folks anyhow, they both would be out of town or in town handling the family's numerous business'. He had his own entrance in the house, as well did mom & dad , and they'd never, not even accidentally, switch entrances.
Ironically, sometimes they'd correspond through e-mail to let each other know how things were going.
He kept watching tv all day long till seven pm. He took another shower and started to prep up. usually it would take him an hour or so to choose his clothes, shoes and hairstyle. He blamed girls for taking too long for make-up, but he wasn't minding himself.
-Damn, I look good. You look good , Matt! he said while looking at his reflection.
It was more than just a narcisist feeling about him.
''This is a night to remember'', he told himself.''I'm immortal!'' was his last scream as he left the house, jumped in his brand-new Lexus convertible and hit the road to his partner in party, Brad.
All of his companions or acquantainces came from similar familie or background as his.
Brad was no exception. The persons he'd go out with were either the sons, daughter, nephews or nieces of Board directors at his dad's enterprise, or just associates' next of kins.
He arrived at Brad's home. He horned a few times till his friend came out, running to the car. He got in, they shok hands.
They had a special handshake, just like brothers, they'd knowed each other since gymnasium.
-You're a bit late, Bradie, my boy, he pointed out at the watch.
-I know....he said. I was watching Heroes , man.
-Goddamn, you gotta stop with that shit....!I'm really thinking of breaking up with you if you keep watching that tripe.....
Both bursted into laughter. They hit the road, leaving the residential hill behind, overlooking the city. The evening was warm and rather breezy.
It had been just one day since the last party, but the week-end was here, and that meant things were handled with even more enthusiasm and energy than normal week days.
-So, is Tina coming or what? he asked.
His friend had rolled a blunt in the meantime.He let smoke out of his mouth, then answered.
-Course she's coming, bro!
-I've been waiting to tap that ass for ages...
-Ages? You've known her for two weeks, what the fuck...?
-Shut the fuck up and pass me the joint.
They started laughing again.The evening had that feel-good vibe all over it.
It was nine-ish when they got to Crises. It was amongst the most fashionable lounge bars in town, and most likely the most expensive one.
The girl crown had not arrived yet.They took a seven person couch and ordered their drinks.No beer or whisky.
Those were for the ignorant peasants.
They were special, and had their own cocktails, made off ingredients they'd ask. ''This is the shit'', ''Crystal pearl'', ''Blonde at one o'clock'', ''Move that ass, bitch'', Blowjob on the beach''. The names came as various as the drinks that bore them.
As soon as the girls arrived, punchlines would start flying around.
-What the fuck took you so long?What did you do, stop by a porno casting?
The girls were clothed slutty enough for him to make his remark sting more.
-Matt, this is the last time I'm going out with you. You're too fucking pushy! she replied
-Pushy? Me? Just cause I want you on fucking time doesn't mean I'm pushy...
-Matt, calm down, bro!You know how hoes are...
Brad tried to calm down the spirits, it would always be like that, a fire-backed start of an evening meant the night would be superb.
-Listen, why don't you enjoy your drink and order me one, and make space on the couch! she said.
He had kept a seat next to him for her. It wasn't a crush or even more than that, but he liked to have another name on his conquests' list. And she would rank top five.He was aware of the fact that although he didn't lack the looks, girls always went to bed with him or hung around him for his money instead. He didn't mind, he'd do the same.
''You can never have too much of them and say stop!'', he thought.The converstaion they were having didn't include any major topics. It was mostly the girls talking about latest fashion, shoes or perfumes, whilst the guys would just listen and scarcely nod.The group had a few rounds.
It was time to move on the main event : The Hyve.
The club the whole city was trying to get into, may it be Dom Perignon sippers or just plain brew-drinkers.
The club was infamous for its outrageous dancers, world-famous guest dj's, electronic acts and VIP rooms. It could happen everything in there, no man's land. That was the club's policy concerning the VIPs. Nobody could touch nobody in there. And the cherry on top was its owner. In official papers Matt was the full beneficiary, though its dad's company hold the major percentage of the venue.
-The king has left the building! Matt said as they waved bye to the bar's personnel.
He had called a limo so they could all fit in. He left his car in a parking lot earlyer, before the girls had arrived.
Chilled champagne welcomed them in the leather-clad luxurious interior of the limo.
-To us and tonight! he said.
Raised his cup and all cheered. It was a night to remember.His club boasted the usual mile-long que outside its premises.
All kind of sport cars or expensive SUVs left no space on the driveway. It was week-end and the city knew it.
They went in easyer than a knife cutting through butter . There were any strange looks to be found, the clubbers knew the slightest raised eyebrow would get them out the line. And if they wouldn't want to willingly, the big gorilla-looking security dudes might help solve the problem.They went straight to their own VIP room. Bigger than all others, it had its own bar, toilet, table, personal bartender and dj and three huge tv screens with different psychedelic images rolling on.
They got comfy in their large armchairs, everyone being armed with a drink. The night was all laughter mixed with high-alcohol and weed. The bartender would have to open the door to let the smoke out, hence he couldn't see the drinks he was mixing.
He was kissing Tina, keeping her close to himself like they'd been fiancees for ages. He wanted something, but she wasn't giving it without a ''reward''.
-Ey Brad, go get some dancers here. I wanna see some action going on
.-Ah, come on, man, we've got the girls here...
-Just fucking do it!
That sounded like an order rather than a favour being asked.Brad got out the room. The club was packed.
One could barely have space to drop a needle. Sweaty bodies, ones half-drunk, others half-high, or maybe both, dancing to the same boom-boom-boom repetitive techno beat.That made quite an impact on the clubbers' minds , if Ecstasy or Lsd, or any pill they'd take, wouldn't.
He picked three girls dancers which he thought were best for the job and brought them to the room.
For them it was better than getting a raise or getting days off. They'd show off their skills to the main man now.
Matt had gone to the toilet. He looked into the mirror and began talking to his refection.
-This is your night , man. Make the most of it!
He rinsed his face off sweat and took out his trousers a small package.White powder was inside.
He carefully crafted it into lines, proceeding into sniffing them , one by one, increasing his temperature and heartbeat.
His pusher had not lied, it was some good shit.
Back in the room, the dancers were already booging to the rhythm, making everyone else jump off their seats and start showing off what they could do.
He looked at Tina, she looked more gifted than proffessionals. She seemed to be doing it all for him. He joined the crowd, the dancers threw off their tops. It looked on its way to becoming an orgy.Drinks were there, weed was there, girls were there.
What more could he possibly need?In the midst of all he went to the toilet again, this time bringing Tina as well. Speedball lines went quickly up their noses, the adrenaling flowed quicker thorugh their bodies. They got back, seated.The dancers had taken a short break, having a discussion with the bartender.
Flashy hypnotic lights came down from the ceiling, he got to a state where it was hard to tell who's who in the room.He lifted his glass.
-I am the man! he repeated it twice
-You are the man! all the other voices were heard.
But to him, the echo of his own voice felt more present in his head than his entourage's confirmation.
-Fuck you all! I'm out this bitch...
And he rose, got out the room, leaving the door open. Music from the dance-ring crashed into the room's walls, making everybody cringe for their ears.
''What's wrong with him?'' everybody was thinking.
He bumped into people, he couldn't walk straight anymore, but still trying to dance and bobb his head to the beat.
He hadn't made 15 steps from the room when he collapsed to the floor, like a heavy sack of grain, foam coming out his mouth.
A few moments later, blood came out of his nose and he stoped breathing. His friends tried to take him to the nearest hospital but they were ''dizzy'' as well, it was too late.
He'd OD-ed on speedball and coke.
There was no way to announce his parents, they were on a God-forsaken island, their phone number available only to him.
They'd get the news via e-mail, once they'd return home.
The night had turned out one to remember.
They'd remember him, but most important the last night he'd been immortal....
He remembered bringing back a girl to his place the previous night, but she wasn't in his bed anymore. If she ever gotten there in the first place. ''She did'' he thought. ''There's nobody resisting me''.
He went back to sleep, drowning his face in the pillow. He tried to ignore the sun outside, but at one point he opened his eyes again.
-Shit, I hate this!
He decided to actually get out of bed. He'd been partying all night long till six in the morning. two in the afternoon was no regular hour for him to wake up.More like 5 in the evening, like vampires.
He was a ''vampire'', he barely went out during the day...night was his thing.
He got out of bed, put some slippers on his feet, took a cold shower and then turned on the tv. Lit himself a cigarette. His room looked like a teen's room, although he was 21 years of age, he liked to cling onto his teens a bit longer.
The house the room was part of was a different thing altogether.
It stood on a hill overlooking the city, had a magnificent garden, a pool and one basketball court, amongst other things. Spanish tiles, the finest parquet and esquisite tapestry found their place in the villa.
The neighbors, few and quite rich themselves, were calling the house ''Eden mansion'', hence it lacked nothing that anyone would need, like, want at any point in life.
As he was skipping through international channels on his larger-than-life tv ensemble, he made an order to a pizza company and got himself a peperoni-topped pizza, with extra cheese. Finished two cans of Coke light till delivery time and called his best friend and party asscociate.
-Ey Brad, it's me. Aw, shit man, my head is killing me...
-Tell me about it. Like I wasn't there..
-I know man, but shit..This time we banged it too hard.
-What the fuck' wrong with you? Are you ok, Matt? That weed's gotten to you that much..?!
-Just kidding, asshole. Just kidding. Listen, tonight we're off to Crises and then to ''The Hyve'', all right? It's friday baby, let's celebrate. Call Tina to gather up the girls, it's gonna be a night we won't forget!! Pick you up at your place , normal time....
He put the phone down. The pizza had arrived. He hadn't much to do in his days off. It can't be said he had working and free days. they were all lokk-alikes. His parents were filthy rich, his dad owning a major oil refinery corporation, making him ''The Boss'' in town. His properties ranged from restaurants and bars to shoe-stores and such. And all he had to do was learn how to run his dad's business, one day he'd take over.
All his life, up till now, had been filled with personal trainers, teachers, nutritionists, stylists. He could barely wipe his own ass, for that matter.
His parents were out of town for holiday. Gone to a God-forsaken island in the Aegean Sea, Europe. He either didn't remember the name or couldn't pronounce it. He's barely see his folks anyhow, they both would be out of town or in town handling the family's numerous business'. He had his own entrance in the house, as well did mom & dad , and they'd never, not even accidentally, switch entrances.
Ironically, sometimes they'd correspond through e-mail to let each other know how things were going.
He kept watching tv all day long till seven pm. He took another shower and started to prep up. usually it would take him an hour or so to choose his clothes, shoes and hairstyle. He blamed girls for taking too long for make-up, but he wasn't minding himself.
-Damn, I look good. You look good , Matt! he said while looking at his reflection.
It was more than just a narcisist feeling about him.
''This is a night to remember'', he told himself.''I'm immortal!'' was his last scream as he left the house, jumped in his brand-new Lexus convertible and hit the road to his partner in party, Brad.
All of his companions or acquantainces came from similar familie or background as his.
Brad was no exception. The persons he'd go out with were either the sons, daughter, nephews or nieces of Board directors at his dad's enterprise, or just associates' next of kins.
He arrived at Brad's home. He horned a few times till his friend came out, running to the car. He got in, they shok hands.
They had a special handshake, just like brothers, they'd knowed each other since gymnasium.
-You're a bit late, Bradie, my boy, he pointed out at the watch.
-I know....he said. I was watching Heroes , man.
-Goddamn, you gotta stop with that shit....!I'm really thinking of breaking up with you if you keep watching that tripe.....
Both bursted into laughter. They hit the road, leaving the residential hill behind, overlooking the city. The evening was warm and rather breezy.
It had been just one day since the last party, but the week-end was here, and that meant things were handled with even more enthusiasm and energy than normal week days.
-So, is Tina coming or what? he asked.
His friend had rolled a blunt in the meantime.He let smoke out of his mouth, then answered.
-Course she's coming, bro!
-I've been waiting to tap that ass for ages...
-Ages? You've known her for two weeks, what the fuck...?
-Shut the fuck up and pass me the joint.
They started laughing again.The evening had that feel-good vibe all over it.
It was nine-ish when they got to Crises. It was amongst the most fashionable lounge bars in town, and most likely the most expensive one.
The girl crown had not arrived yet.They took a seven person couch and ordered their drinks.No beer or whisky.
Those were for the ignorant peasants.
They were special, and had their own cocktails, made off ingredients they'd ask. ''This is the shit'', ''Crystal pearl'', ''Blonde at one o'clock'', ''Move that ass, bitch'', Blowjob on the beach''. The names came as various as the drinks that bore them.
As soon as the girls arrived, punchlines would start flying around.
-What the fuck took you so long?What did you do, stop by a porno casting?
The girls were clothed slutty enough for him to make his remark sting more.
-Matt, this is the last time I'm going out with you. You're too fucking pushy! she replied
-Pushy? Me? Just cause I want you on fucking time doesn't mean I'm pushy...
-Matt, calm down, bro!You know how hoes are...
Brad tried to calm down the spirits, it would always be like that, a fire-backed start of an evening meant the night would be superb.
-Listen, why don't you enjoy your drink and order me one, and make space on the couch! she said.
He had kept a seat next to him for her. It wasn't a crush or even more than that, but he liked to have another name on his conquests' list. And she would rank top five.He was aware of the fact that although he didn't lack the looks, girls always went to bed with him or hung around him for his money instead. He didn't mind, he'd do the same.
''You can never have too much of them and say stop!'', he thought.The converstaion they were having didn't include any major topics. It was mostly the girls talking about latest fashion, shoes or perfumes, whilst the guys would just listen and scarcely nod.The group had a few rounds.
It was time to move on the main event : The Hyve.
The club the whole city was trying to get into, may it be Dom Perignon sippers or just plain brew-drinkers.
The club was infamous for its outrageous dancers, world-famous guest dj's, electronic acts and VIP rooms. It could happen everything in there, no man's land. That was the club's policy concerning the VIPs. Nobody could touch nobody in there. And the cherry on top was its owner. In official papers Matt was the full beneficiary, though its dad's company hold the major percentage of the venue.
-The king has left the building! Matt said as they waved bye to the bar's personnel.
He had called a limo so they could all fit in. He left his car in a parking lot earlyer, before the girls had arrived.
Chilled champagne welcomed them in the leather-clad luxurious interior of the limo.
-To us and tonight! he said.
Raised his cup and all cheered. It was a night to remember.His club boasted the usual mile-long que outside its premises.
All kind of sport cars or expensive SUVs left no space on the driveway. It was week-end and the city knew it.
They went in easyer than a knife cutting through butter . There were any strange looks to be found, the clubbers knew the slightest raised eyebrow would get them out the line. And if they wouldn't want to willingly, the big gorilla-looking security dudes might help solve the problem.They went straight to their own VIP room. Bigger than all others, it had its own bar, toilet, table, personal bartender and dj and three huge tv screens with different psychedelic images rolling on.
They got comfy in their large armchairs, everyone being armed with a drink. The night was all laughter mixed with high-alcohol and weed. The bartender would have to open the door to let the smoke out, hence he couldn't see the drinks he was mixing.
He was kissing Tina, keeping her close to himself like they'd been fiancees for ages. He wanted something, but she wasn't giving it without a ''reward''.
-Ey Brad, go get some dancers here. I wanna see some action going on
.-Ah, come on, man, we've got the girls here...
-Just fucking do it!
That sounded like an order rather than a favour being asked.Brad got out the room. The club was packed.
One could barely have space to drop a needle. Sweaty bodies, ones half-drunk, others half-high, or maybe both, dancing to the same boom-boom-boom repetitive techno beat.That made quite an impact on the clubbers' minds , if Ecstasy or Lsd, or any pill they'd take, wouldn't.
He picked three girls dancers which he thought were best for the job and brought them to the room.
For them it was better than getting a raise or getting days off. They'd show off their skills to the main man now.
Matt had gone to the toilet. He looked into the mirror and began talking to his refection.
-This is your night , man. Make the most of it!
He rinsed his face off sweat and took out his trousers a small package.White powder was inside.
He carefully crafted it into lines, proceeding into sniffing them , one by one, increasing his temperature and heartbeat.
His pusher had not lied, it was some good shit.
Back in the room, the dancers were already booging to the rhythm, making everyone else jump off their seats and start showing off what they could do.
He looked at Tina, she looked more gifted than proffessionals. She seemed to be doing it all for him. He joined the crowd, the dancers threw off their tops. It looked on its way to becoming an orgy.Drinks were there, weed was there, girls were there.
What more could he possibly need?In the midst of all he went to the toilet again, this time bringing Tina as well. Speedball lines went quickly up their noses, the adrenaling flowed quicker thorugh their bodies. They got back, seated.The dancers had taken a short break, having a discussion with the bartender.
Flashy hypnotic lights came down from the ceiling, he got to a state where it was hard to tell who's who in the room.He lifted his glass.
-I am the man! he repeated it twice
-You are the man! all the other voices were heard.
But to him, the echo of his own voice felt more present in his head than his entourage's confirmation.
-Fuck you all! I'm out this bitch...
And he rose, got out the room, leaving the door open. Music from the dance-ring crashed into the room's walls, making everybody cringe for their ears.
''What's wrong with him?'' everybody was thinking.
He bumped into people, he couldn't walk straight anymore, but still trying to dance and bobb his head to the beat.
He hadn't made 15 steps from the room when he collapsed to the floor, like a heavy sack of grain, foam coming out his mouth.
A few moments later, blood came out of his nose and he stoped breathing. His friends tried to take him to the nearest hospital but they were ''dizzy'' as well, it was too late.
He'd OD-ed on speedball and coke.
There was no way to announce his parents, they were on a God-forsaken island, their phone number available only to him.
They'd get the news via e-mail, once they'd return home.
The night had turned out one to remember.
They'd remember him, but most important the last night he'd been immortal....
domenica 16 agosto 2009
Wishing-Versiunea lu' Tuemckey
Alright, all of you English speakers out there back off for a minute, no offense but you won't understand a word...It's my version(and a short one, that is, hence not having more time then to expand it) of the song Wishing by Edo G feat Masta Ace(and I still expect that bloody album to come out)....written in Romanian obviously....Why's that? cause I know Romanian? cause I speak it? cause I am one, for bloody sake!!!! :)) I know , that one came as a shock, didn't it? Actually it took me by surprise too, every morning I wake up and the first thing I do is check my passport and I can't bloody believe it .....Someone's pulling a prank on me with this whole Romanian nationality...anyways..enough with the bollocks! By the way can you get enough bollocks? I mean what's the limit for bollock-ing? Is there a certain time or counted sentenses that might make one scream in agony ''please stop bollocking, I can't take it anymore...arghhh!!!!''. Hmm...food for the thought.....
as vrea sa iau durerea cu mana, nu cu aspirina
cu un zambet, nu cu o doza de heroina
cu o mana de ajutor, nu cu o crima
cu un vers purificator si muzica sublima
as vrea politicienii sa nu mai minta, sa nu ia mita
sa faca ce au promis sau macar sa nu mai promita
as vrea sa vad macar o familie fericita
o mama iubitoare, un tata intelegator si o fiica linistita
as vrea sa vad scoli care te invata
preturi mici la piata si stiri la tv fara sa mi se faca greata
as vrea sa vad speranta, mai putina aroganta
sa vedem capatul tunelului dar sa nu fie ceata
as vrea mai mult ajutor intre noi, mai putine ploi
mai putine masini care polueaza, mai multe biciclete noi
as vrea sa vad mai multi copii razand, mai putine fete
pe strada, si mai putine minti bete
mai putina propaganda, as vrea mai putina muzica proasta
si mai putine esecuri guvernamentale puse-n carca noastra
as vrea sa vad adolescenti care se iau in serios
as vrea sa putem pretui ce e frumos
e de prisos, dar as vrea s-am acelasi vis ca malcolm x
si as vrea s-ating atatea inimi cu un pix......
T.
as vrea sa iau durerea cu mana, nu cu aspirina
cu un zambet, nu cu o doza de heroina
cu o mana de ajutor, nu cu o crima
cu un vers purificator si muzica sublima
as vrea politicienii sa nu mai minta, sa nu ia mita
sa faca ce au promis sau macar sa nu mai promita
as vrea sa vad macar o familie fericita
o mama iubitoare, un tata intelegator si o fiica linistita
as vrea sa vad scoli care te invata
preturi mici la piata si stiri la tv fara sa mi se faca greata
as vrea sa vad speranta, mai putina aroganta
sa vedem capatul tunelului dar sa nu fie ceata
as vrea mai mult ajutor intre noi, mai putine ploi
mai putine masini care polueaza, mai multe biciclete noi
as vrea sa vad mai multi copii razand, mai putine fete
pe strada, si mai putine minti bete
mai putina propaganda, as vrea mai putina muzica proasta
si mai putine esecuri guvernamentale puse-n carca noastra
as vrea sa vad adolescenti care se iau in serios
as vrea sa putem pretui ce e frumos
e de prisos, dar as vrea s-am acelasi vis ca malcolm x
si as vrea s-ating atatea inimi cu un pix......
T.
sabato 15 agosto 2009
Stories from outside your window part 5
The key went in, unlocking the door.She turned the knob, opening it.Pitch black inside.
''Where is it?'' she said.Every time she couldn't find the light switch, although she'd been there a thousand and one times before.She finally turned on the light.
''Ah, much better''.
The room she was facing appeared as any other hotel room. Small, badly-furnished and a certain ''this is not your home'' look.
It wasn't a luxury room.Actually, the hotel neon lacking an ''O'' that was outside was misguiding the potential clients.
This was no three star hotel, a mere two star in the official documents, and that because the owner had connections.
But she didn't mind.
The owner didn't ask much and kept on his business, all one needed to get a room was money and an ID. One could be a wanted criminal throughout the world, it wouldn't have mattered, just an amount of money would do the trick and no one would batter an eye.She spent most of her time in this room.
She'd been in the big city for three years, for college, and her roomates,where she was actually living, were not trust-worthy, she thought.That's why she'd keep all her money in the cramped safe behind the only painting in the room. She enjoyed what she was doing, it brought money for classes and exams.
Her parents couldn't afford it, so she had to work. And normal jobs were badly-paid and too few.She was beautiful. Dark-blonde hair, blue eyes, thin figure and lovely lips.
The type of girl the guys at the college would drop their tongues on the floor for,but she had been telling them she wanted to find true love and then get into any love activities. She knew that wasn't the case and sometimes it came hard to refrain a laugh when she'd tell them that.
She took off her coat, put the bags on the bed and sat down next to them, starting to pull out the items.
She'd been shopping. New lingerie, new night gowns, new methods of seduction. She was seductive enough, so any other accessories were coming second place. She'd meet the guy tonight at eight.
She picked them on the net. She had photos of hers put on a site and if anybody looked interested, negociations would start. Prices, time, day, all would be talked about and settled before the meeting would occur.
She liked to keep everything in check, so she wrote everybody's name on a notebook and all the info they'd give her. Blank pages were minoritary.
She'd need another one soon.She started trying on the lingerie. She looked good in every piece. She looked great without any.
But she thought that men got aroused more if they don't see much. ''Get excited about what you're gonna see'' type of thinking, rather than just ''hand it all over on a plate''.
There was a knock on the door.
It must've been him. It should've been him.
She put away the bags and receipts, throwing unnecessary stuff in a small closet facing the bed.
She opened the door.
There he was.
Roses in his hand, tall, handsome , but with a certain twist. He looked as if smiling was not something he did often.
She invited him in, closing the door.They swapped kisses on the cheeks, him handing the roses.
-Thank you! she said in a blushing manner, though she could not care less.
This was business, not some sort of ''fall out for the guy'' reality show.
-You look even more beautiful than in photos, he replied.
He slightly smiled. It didn't actually look like a smile, it resembled a wolf grinning while cornering a sheep. ''You're mine now!'' was written all over his face.
She put the roses on the nightstand and took a seat on the bed.
-Should I put some music on?
-Please do, he said, observing the room.
She hit the play button on a small stereo system atop the nightstand.
The usual sax-driven, cheesy romantic music. She had found the cd in a second hand store, bumping the sticker ''sensual music for couples''. The cd bore the name ''Sounds of relaxation''.
They started kissing and kissing, one body attached to another, him still clothed, her half-naked. He took his jacket off, throwing it in a corner of the room, keeping caressing her young body.They stopped kissing.
-So, how do you wanna do this? she asked
He looked her in the eye.He didn't look the macho part, but his eyes showed a dominating force.
-You could start with a striptease....
-Naughty naughty! she smiled.
They kissed a few more times. She stood up, took a chair, positioned it in the centre of the room, in front of him.The music wasn't the best choice for her dance, but neither cared. He didn't move his eyes off her, she watched every reaction.They both looked in a trance, she liking to put up a show , him enjoying it.
She clearly had done this before, cause she seemed to have a dance pattern, carefully crafted and already practised.
She took the red gown off, liberating her lovely breasts from the fabric.He stood up, came close to her and told her to sit down on the chair.She listened to him. He proceeded to kiss her breasts, licking softly the nipples, turning them hard.
It was all for business, but now was getting more into fun territory. He weighed her a couple of times from head to toe and then spoke softly to her ear.
-I wanna tie you up!
It wasn't the first time a ''client'' had asked for kinky things, so she nodded.
He spread her legs, pulling her feet to the back of the chair, tying her hands as well.She remained motionless, waiting for the next step to happen.
From the back of the chair, overlooking her head to her breasts, he started touching her body, easy-massaging at first and then turning into a fight between his fingers and her skin. She liked it.
She couldn't remember if she ever liked it for real, and when had it happened. The guy was turning out to be a full package, having both the looks and the moves.He turned her facing him. Went through one of his jeans' pockets and took out a small roll of scotch tape. He taped her three times.
It was amazing how many things he'd gotten out of his pockets, though his jeans had not looked bulky when he first entered the room. Rope and now, tape.He started biting her nipples in a painful manner now , till she started struggling and tried to speak from beneath the tape, covering her mouth. He took the tape off.
-Now, what the fuck are you doing?? she yelled at him
-Oh sorry, I got carried away...
-Carried away my ass....that hurt, you know.Please, untie me.
He had a dissapointed look on his face. Boo hoo, his game had ended..
He untied his ankles and hands. He apologised for that and all of a sudden a fist plunged into her face, making her fall back with the chair. He continued slapping and hitting her while she was mobilised on the floor, trying to cover herself up from his heavy hits.
She hadn't planned a beating for that day, but she pretty much was experiencing one now. The guy had not only the looks and moves, but also knew how to hit her. He took her off the floor like a rag, threw her into bed, face down, tying her again. This time violently and roughly. There was blood coming out of her nose.He took her head in his arms, putting his left hand on her mouth, preventing her from screaming.He whispered into her ear.
-You've been a naughty girl, Sarah..
He suddenly knew her real name, she'd always give a fake one.
-And I'm here to give you a lesson, he continued.But first I need you to tell me where's the money......And don't scream, otherwise you force me to show more brutality, though I don't like using it.
He barely could understand her through the sobs and weaping, but the few intelligible words were enough. He turned the music volume higher and engaged into having anal sex with her, all the time pulling her hair. She tried to struggle and break free, to get him off her, but there was no use.
It was the first anal experience she ever had, maybe she really was waiting for someone special.He got off her, untied the ropes, hiting her again just in case she'd start screaming; and went for the painting. Behind it, a small , unlocked safe carried all her savings. And she had quite an amount there. The notebook wasn't full with names for nothing. He went through the stacks and threw a few notes to her
.-Get yourself cleaned up, whore! he said in a disgusted tone.
She had been crying for some while now, laying there in a fetus position.He picked his jacket up, took another look at her and the room.
-You've been offering good service for the price you've asked. Hope I've done likewise.
He started laughing.
-And, oh, don't try to go to the police, it wouldn't help.....I'm one of them...
He wanted to show her the badge, but she wasn't looking at him.He went out the door, whistling.
She remained there, beaten, bruised, cold and ashamed.
There was nothing beautiful about her now.
She'd go home.
She'd leave this fucking city.
She'd rip the pages of the notebook and throw it.
She'd cancell all the info off the net and out of her head.
She'd go home...But what would she tell her parents?
That was the last thing on her mind now.
She'd go as far away from this place as possible.
There was nothing here for her.
She had no money left.
She had nothing left to sell of her anymore..........
''Where is it?'' she said.Every time she couldn't find the light switch, although she'd been there a thousand and one times before.She finally turned on the light.
''Ah, much better''.
The room she was facing appeared as any other hotel room. Small, badly-furnished and a certain ''this is not your home'' look.
It wasn't a luxury room.Actually, the hotel neon lacking an ''O'' that was outside was misguiding the potential clients.
This was no three star hotel, a mere two star in the official documents, and that because the owner had connections.
But she didn't mind.
The owner didn't ask much and kept on his business, all one needed to get a room was money and an ID. One could be a wanted criminal throughout the world, it wouldn't have mattered, just an amount of money would do the trick and no one would batter an eye.She spent most of her time in this room.
She'd been in the big city for three years, for college, and her roomates,where she was actually living, were not trust-worthy, she thought.That's why she'd keep all her money in the cramped safe behind the only painting in the room. She enjoyed what she was doing, it brought money for classes and exams.
Her parents couldn't afford it, so she had to work. And normal jobs were badly-paid and too few.She was beautiful. Dark-blonde hair, blue eyes, thin figure and lovely lips.
The type of girl the guys at the college would drop their tongues on the floor for,but she had been telling them she wanted to find true love and then get into any love activities. She knew that wasn't the case and sometimes it came hard to refrain a laugh when she'd tell them that.
She took off her coat, put the bags on the bed and sat down next to them, starting to pull out the items.
She'd been shopping. New lingerie, new night gowns, new methods of seduction. She was seductive enough, so any other accessories were coming second place. She'd meet the guy tonight at eight.
She picked them on the net. She had photos of hers put on a site and if anybody looked interested, negociations would start. Prices, time, day, all would be talked about and settled before the meeting would occur.
She liked to keep everything in check, so she wrote everybody's name on a notebook and all the info they'd give her. Blank pages were minoritary.
She'd need another one soon.She started trying on the lingerie. She looked good in every piece. She looked great without any.
But she thought that men got aroused more if they don't see much. ''Get excited about what you're gonna see'' type of thinking, rather than just ''hand it all over on a plate''.
There was a knock on the door.
It must've been him. It should've been him.
She put away the bags and receipts, throwing unnecessary stuff in a small closet facing the bed.
She opened the door.
There he was.
Roses in his hand, tall, handsome , but with a certain twist. He looked as if smiling was not something he did often.
She invited him in, closing the door.They swapped kisses on the cheeks, him handing the roses.
-Thank you! she said in a blushing manner, though she could not care less.
This was business, not some sort of ''fall out for the guy'' reality show.
-You look even more beautiful than in photos, he replied.
He slightly smiled. It didn't actually look like a smile, it resembled a wolf grinning while cornering a sheep. ''You're mine now!'' was written all over his face.
She put the roses on the nightstand and took a seat on the bed.
-Should I put some music on?
-Please do, he said, observing the room.
She hit the play button on a small stereo system atop the nightstand.
The usual sax-driven, cheesy romantic music. She had found the cd in a second hand store, bumping the sticker ''sensual music for couples''. The cd bore the name ''Sounds of relaxation''.
They started kissing and kissing, one body attached to another, him still clothed, her half-naked. He took his jacket off, throwing it in a corner of the room, keeping caressing her young body.They stopped kissing.
-So, how do you wanna do this? she asked
He looked her in the eye.He didn't look the macho part, but his eyes showed a dominating force.
-You could start with a striptease....
-Naughty naughty! she smiled.
They kissed a few more times. She stood up, took a chair, positioned it in the centre of the room, in front of him.The music wasn't the best choice for her dance, but neither cared. He didn't move his eyes off her, she watched every reaction.They both looked in a trance, she liking to put up a show , him enjoying it.
She clearly had done this before, cause she seemed to have a dance pattern, carefully crafted and already practised.
She took the red gown off, liberating her lovely breasts from the fabric.He stood up, came close to her and told her to sit down on the chair.She listened to him. He proceeded to kiss her breasts, licking softly the nipples, turning them hard.
It was all for business, but now was getting more into fun territory. He weighed her a couple of times from head to toe and then spoke softly to her ear.
-I wanna tie you up!
It wasn't the first time a ''client'' had asked for kinky things, so she nodded.
He spread her legs, pulling her feet to the back of the chair, tying her hands as well.She remained motionless, waiting for the next step to happen.
From the back of the chair, overlooking her head to her breasts, he started touching her body, easy-massaging at first and then turning into a fight between his fingers and her skin. She liked it.
She couldn't remember if she ever liked it for real, and when had it happened. The guy was turning out to be a full package, having both the looks and the moves.He turned her facing him. Went through one of his jeans' pockets and took out a small roll of scotch tape. He taped her three times.
It was amazing how many things he'd gotten out of his pockets, though his jeans had not looked bulky when he first entered the room. Rope and now, tape.He started biting her nipples in a painful manner now , till she started struggling and tried to speak from beneath the tape, covering her mouth. He took the tape off.
-Now, what the fuck are you doing?? she yelled at him
-Oh sorry, I got carried away...
-Carried away my ass....that hurt, you know.Please, untie me.
He had a dissapointed look on his face. Boo hoo, his game had ended..
He untied his ankles and hands. He apologised for that and all of a sudden a fist plunged into her face, making her fall back with the chair. He continued slapping and hitting her while she was mobilised on the floor, trying to cover herself up from his heavy hits.
She hadn't planned a beating for that day, but she pretty much was experiencing one now. The guy had not only the looks and moves, but also knew how to hit her. He took her off the floor like a rag, threw her into bed, face down, tying her again. This time violently and roughly. There was blood coming out of her nose.He took her head in his arms, putting his left hand on her mouth, preventing her from screaming.He whispered into her ear.
-You've been a naughty girl, Sarah..
He suddenly knew her real name, she'd always give a fake one.
-And I'm here to give you a lesson, he continued.But first I need you to tell me where's the money......And don't scream, otherwise you force me to show more brutality, though I don't like using it.
He barely could understand her through the sobs and weaping, but the few intelligible words were enough. He turned the music volume higher and engaged into having anal sex with her, all the time pulling her hair. She tried to struggle and break free, to get him off her, but there was no use.
It was the first anal experience she ever had, maybe she really was waiting for someone special.He got off her, untied the ropes, hiting her again just in case she'd start screaming; and went for the painting. Behind it, a small , unlocked safe carried all her savings. And she had quite an amount there. The notebook wasn't full with names for nothing. He went through the stacks and threw a few notes to her
.-Get yourself cleaned up, whore! he said in a disgusted tone.
She had been crying for some while now, laying there in a fetus position.He picked his jacket up, took another look at her and the room.
-You've been offering good service for the price you've asked. Hope I've done likewise.
He started laughing.
-And, oh, don't try to go to the police, it wouldn't help.....I'm one of them...
He wanted to show her the badge, but she wasn't looking at him.He went out the door, whistling.
She remained there, beaten, bruised, cold and ashamed.
There was nothing beautiful about her now.
She'd go home.
She'd leave this fucking city.
She'd rip the pages of the notebook and throw it.
She'd cancell all the info off the net and out of her head.
She'd go home...But what would she tell her parents?
That was the last thing on her mind now.
She'd go as far away from this place as possible.
There was nothing here for her.
She had no money left.
She had nothing left to sell of her anymore..........
venerdì 14 agosto 2009
Stories from outside your window part 4
They had fought again.It was becoming a hobby nowadays.They weren't seeying each other daily, but almost always when they'd meet, words would be exchanged.
Heavy ones. Words that hurt more than flower vases thrown around or broken chairs or photos ripped apart.
Words that would leave bigger scars than any knife, that would make them feel worse than being slapped.
But it didn't matter.They were fighting with a passion. Passion that they didn't share for the reconcilliation afterwards.
That would come by itself, when they wouldn't speak to each other for days.
They had fought again.
It was the same ol', same ol'.
''Give up on the booze'', she would say, ''it's messing up your thinking!''.
''Give up on going to bed with other men'', he would say, ''you're becoming a slut!''
Her first motives she implied were she was just trying to get a better pay at her job place, for both's sake.She had told him it wasn't anything between her and the ''lovers''.
He, on the other hand, was giving the blame on long, hard days at work, missing her. He was always on the road, driving almost entire days sometimes.
''Bollocks!!'' he would tell her.
''Bullshit!!'' she'd scream at his reasons.
He slammed the door behind him. It was passed midnight, the neighbours would call the police.It was about time for him to leave. He was only in town for one day and this is what it turned out to be.
He was starting work at ten in the morning, but he had no place to sleep till then. He didn't feel like going back and apologise, it wasn't his thing.
The city looked deserted. A few cars here and there, nothing that could be called traffic. On highways, where he spent most of his day, this was called ''ghost time''.His job was transporting. All day long behind the wheel, eyes focused on the road.
It was a love-hate thing for him.He thought about her.Four years of marriage and he felt like he'd been renting her all this time.
Out of all this time being her husband, he'd barely spent more than two years altogether.Did he even love her anymore? That was a tough question to answer on the spot. They had had their ups and downs, like every other relationship.
He kept walking down the street. Hence he was always in movement for his work, everything looked static now. And it was, indeed.
He stopped, took a deep breath. He was thinking about going back to her, apologise for what it's worth and spend the night there, at least this time.
He made a u-turn, but his feet wouldn't respond to his mind anymore by the time he had reached half way there.He just couldn't do it.He had a better idea.He turned away from the flat's direction to find a bar.
There must've been one still open.The ''owner hasn't got shit else to do'' type.And he was right.
It didn't take him crossing two boulevards, switching corners thrice and there he was , facing it.
He looked inside.
A middle-aged man behind the counter, back-facing him, watching the sport results on a tv that was hanging atop the spirits section.
He went in.The door made an annoying alarm-type sound as it opened.The supposed owner turned his gaze on him, remote still in his hand.
-Hey! he jabbered through his teeth, half-mouthed.
-Hi.
Closed the door, having to hear the door-click noise again, he hated that.
-Are you still open or am I after closing time?
The bartender looked at him. His faced had the''are you shitting me'' look on. He took a while till he responded.
-Well, the door is open, I'm inside, tv is on. I don't know.....Course we're open mate. Get your heart out of your mouth and take a seat.
-Thanks.
It was the first time he smiled that evening.He got seated at the bar. The place barely had any tables, and those looked small and uninviting to have your drink on.
Besides , what better way to enjoy your lager, or any drink for that matter, than having a total nonsense chat with the bar-keeper.
The bar tender put both hands on the counter before him, leaning forward.
-So, what shall it be, mate?
-Ehm...
He had a minor lack of inspiration.
-A beer, to start with, thank you!
-Certainly , mate!
-Cheers!
-Cheers!
In a blink of an eye he had his draught in front of him, a cold foamy pint just waiting to be savoured. He said cheers once again and had his first gulp. Damn, it tasted nice.
He didn't know why, but every time the drink had another, different bettered taste. His likings ranged from lager to wine to whisky. He wasn't the type to refuse. But he sticked to a certain brand with every beverage.
He had a story for every beer he'd drunk, from the grain being harvested to the hops being put in it.
Damn, it tasted nice.Come to think about it, he realised he knew more things bout beer or alcohol than his wife. On his scale beer ranked ninth, whilst she was sixth.
Maybe it was because he wasn't getting much sex with her. Let the thoughts just slide by
-So, what brings you here at this time and hour? the bar keeper asked with more curiosity than inquisition. Don't tell me it's for a girl!
He raised his eyes from the pint onto him.
-Well, it's kinda complicated..My wife and I had a fight and I'm just trying to clear my head a bit....
-Right......The man sounded unconvinced.
-You live around here, don't you!? I've seen you at the market on Fleet Street a couple of times.
-Yeah, my flat is close-by. I haven't been here yet, I normally have my drinks at home. I just needed to get away.
He crawled his fingers on the pint.
-We all get that, mate. They cheat, we drink....
He let out a laugh. How ironic it was, the man behind the counter had no idea what it was all about, yet it seemed so general and normal that that would be the case.He finished his pint. Asked for a refill. They kept talking for a while.
Hours passed and pints were drunk. He managed to get a sleeping space on a small, old and rather smelly sofa near the toilet.
-Make sure you wake up till seven, the other shift comes in then and I don't want you or me to get in trouble. the bar-keeper had said.
The phone's alarm had gone off. It was ten to seven in the morning. His head was spinning, the muscles hurting right through to the bone.
He felt like a sixty year old, although he was in his thirties. Nevertheless, he got used to everything. It was no new state he was passing now.
He got up, stretched and walked out of the bar.The barkeeper was still sleeping in another room.He had two hours ahead of him before going back to his truck and start work.
It was a cold autumn morning.
He hated autumn.
In autumn everything left life behind, the trees, the streets, the sky, the people.
He thought autumn was a zombie-season.Steam came out of his mouth as he yawned.
What should he do in this spare time. He went back to the parking lot where he'd have his truck.He used a toothbrush, soap to freshen up. he didn't feel like shaving. Put everything in it's right order and headed back to the bar.
By this time the new shift had been settled already and nobody would ask a thing.The bar was full of morning persons. He wasn't one of them. Even though he was forced to wake up early, that didn't mean he enjoyed it.
He hated it, actually.
He hated people looking all smiley and jolly before ten o'clock.''What's wrong with you people?Wife's kicked you out of bed?'' he thought. Hmmm....The wife.
He wasn't far from the case himself.He ordered a double coffee and a shot of whisky. Make that double as well. That would warm him up a bit.
He looked around, the tables had a few empty cups waiting to be cleaned and there were cigarettes butts lying on the floor as if the Smokers Association had just been holding a congress there.
-Have you got a newspaper, mate? he asked the new, younger bar-keeper.
He received one of those thin, free-given, not-much-to-read newspaper.
There wasn't tons of info he could get from it, but he felt like ''washing'' his eyes on something.Makes him more focused on driving afterwards. he ordered himself a small beer and another whisky, slipping through the paper's pages, looking like a regular.
By the time he got back to his truck he'd drunk three beers and two double whiskey. The breakfast of a champion.
He took another unopened bottle of ale with him, just in case he'd get thirsty on the road.He jumped into the driver's seat, adjusting all things necessary, looked at his watch.He didn't pass by his wife to say goodbye.
He thought it brought bad luck.He took out the bottle from the bag and opened it. He looked around to make sure no one's eyeing him and began to experience with its taste. He felt the same way he'd felt the first time having an ale. He was drinking it with such a haste, then he was tasting it slowly, as if it was his last.
Threw the bottle out the window and proceeded on the road. It took half an hour to make it out the traffic ring around the city.
He wasn't keen on entering and getting out of town. He knew how much hassle that included.The alcohol hadn't made its effect on him yet, but he felt in a good mood now.he started laughing and humming.
He put an old Vangelis tape into the player.
He was feeling top notch. The day had turned out sunny, after a previous rainy week. He pressed the pedal, the highway was inviting him to give full throttle.He turned the volume to the max.Besides drinking, that was the only thing he cherished that had not cheated on him.His eyes became watery, he couldn't distinguish the commands anymore.
He tried to rub his eyes but he couldn't.
At one point he thought he'd see his wife in the middle of the highway waving at him.He pushed the brake , trying to avoid ''her'', but lost control of the wheel.
Tyres screetched, the truck made an u-turn and hit three other cars in the process, then it flipped on one side, crushing a couple more under it's heavy weight.
Chaos had set foot on the highway. He had died almost instantly from the violent impact.
He had had his last beer, after all....
She searched for her phone. He didn't pass by to say goodbye, ne never did, but the fight they'd had, had taken bigger proportions this time. she dialed his number, but nobody picked up.
Second attempt, third...same thing.
She sighed and went into the livingroom, turned on the tv. She had let the office know she'd take a day off. She didn't feel like facing everyone, looking like she did :bloated eyes from crying all night long, messy hair and red spots on her neck and chest.
She'd get those whenever annoyed, stressed or angry. She flipped through the channels, but there was nothing to see, really. It was barely eleven.
''We interrupt the programme for breaking news. The A1 has suffered a chain of accidents just half an hour ago. The situation is critic. All exits are blocked. Nothing is known about the cause that triggered the event, but eye witnesses claim it all started from a large transport truck losing its way in traffic and damaging a few other cars. The firemen and highway police are doing their best in getting everyone injured as soon as possible to the nearest hospital.the death toll as till now is seven. we'll be back with further information.....''
The announcement made her freeze.
The screen had a ''Highway to Hell'' title for the breaking news, and it remained stuck to her eyes. They hadn't given any names, but she knew it was him.
She could imagine him having a laugh while drinking his last beer, pushing the pedal, feeling confident.
Earlyer the morning she had thought about calling him to try to reconcilliate all. She thought about giving up seeying other men and be closer to him to overcome his drinking problem.
Maybe they had passion for love, not only for fighting. But now, she stopped thinking.
There would be no reconcilliation anymore, there would be no discussion about having the last drink. She remembered the few times talking about ''a last drink''.
-This is your last drink, Nate! she'd scream at him when he'd be drunk.
His answer was puking after he'd nod.
But now, there would be no her.
No him, anymore, no more together.
No more love.
All those words vanished from her vocabulary......
She remained frozen, breaking news title caught up in her retina...
Highway to Hell.
Heavy ones. Words that hurt more than flower vases thrown around or broken chairs or photos ripped apart.
Words that would leave bigger scars than any knife, that would make them feel worse than being slapped.
But it didn't matter.They were fighting with a passion. Passion that they didn't share for the reconcilliation afterwards.
That would come by itself, when they wouldn't speak to each other for days.
They had fought again.
It was the same ol', same ol'.
''Give up on the booze'', she would say, ''it's messing up your thinking!''.
''Give up on going to bed with other men'', he would say, ''you're becoming a slut!''
Her first motives she implied were she was just trying to get a better pay at her job place, for both's sake.She had told him it wasn't anything between her and the ''lovers''.
He, on the other hand, was giving the blame on long, hard days at work, missing her. He was always on the road, driving almost entire days sometimes.
''Bollocks!!'' he would tell her.
''Bullshit!!'' she'd scream at his reasons.
He slammed the door behind him. It was passed midnight, the neighbours would call the police.It was about time for him to leave. He was only in town for one day and this is what it turned out to be.
He was starting work at ten in the morning, but he had no place to sleep till then. He didn't feel like going back and apologise, it wasn't his thing.
The city looked deserted. A few cars here and there, nothing that could be called traffic. On highways, where he spent most of his day, this was called ''ghost time''.His job was transporting. All day long behind the wheel, eyes focused on the road.
It was a love-hate thing for him.He thought about her.Four years of marriage and he felt like he'd been renting her all this time.
Out of all this time being her husband, he'd barely spent more than two years altogether.Did he even love her anymore? That was a tough question to answer on the spot. They had had their ups and downs, like every other relationship.
He kept walking down the street. Hence he was always in movement for his work, everything looked static now. And it was, indeed.
He stopped, took a deep breath. He was thinking about going back to her, apologise for what it's worth and spend the night there, at least this time.
He made a u-turn, but his feet wouldn't respond to his mind anymore by the time he had reached half way there.He just couldn't do it.He had a better idea.He turned away from the flat's direction to find a bar.
There must've been one still open.The ''owner hasn't got shit else to do'' type.And he was right.
It didn't take him crossing two boulevards, switching corners thrice and there he was , facing it.
He looked inside.
A middle-aged man behind the counter, back-facing him, watching the sport results on a tv that was hanging atop the spirits section.
He went in.The door made an annoying alarm-type sound as it opened.The supposed owner turned his gaze on him, remote still in his hand.
-Hey! he jabbered through his teeth, half-mouthed.
-Hi.
Closed the door, having to hear the door-click noise again, he hated that.
-Are you still open or am I after closing time?
The bartender looked at him. His faced had the''are you shitting me'' look on. He took a while till he responded.
-Well, the door is open, I'm inside, tv is on. I don't know.....Course we're open mate. Get your heart out of your mouth and take a seat.
-Thanks.
It was the first time he smiled that evening.He got seated at the bar. The place barely had any tables, and those looked small and uninviting to have your drink on.
Besides , what better way to enjoy your lager, or any drink for that matter, than having a total nonsense chat with the bar-keeper.
The bar tender put both hands on the counter before him, leaning forward.
-So, what shall it be, mate?
-Ehm...
He had a minor lack of inspiration.
-A beer, to start with, thank you!
-Certainly , mate!
-Cheers!
-Cheers!
In a blink of an eye he had his draught in front of him, a cold foamy pint just waiting to be savoured. He said cheers once again and had his first gulp. Damn, it tasted nice.
He didn't know why, but every time the drink had another, different bettered taste. His likings ranged from lager to wine to whisky. He wasn't the type to refuse. But he sticked to a certain brand with every beverage.
He had a story for every beer he'd drunk, from the grain being harvested to the hops being put in it.
Damn, it tasted nice.Come to think about it, he realised he knew more things bout beer or alcohol than his wife. On his scale beer ranked ninth, whilst she was sixth.
Maybe it was because he wasn't getting much sex with her. Let the thoughts just slide by
-So, what brings you here at this time and hour? the bar keeper asked with more curiosity than inquisition. Don't tell me it's for a girl!
He raised his eyes from the pint onto him.
-Well, it's kinda complicated..My wife and I had a fight and I'm just trying to clear my head a bit....
-Right......The man sounded unconvinced.
-You live around here, don't you!? I've seen you at the market on Fleet Street a couple of times.
-Yeah, my flat is close-by. I haven't been here yet, I normally have my drinks at home. I just needed to get away.
He crawled his fingers on the pint.
-We all get that, mate. They cheat, we drink....
He let out a laugh. How ironic it was, the man behind the counter had no idea what it was all about, yet it seemed so general and normal that that would be the case.He finished his pint. Asked for a refill. They kept talking for a while.
Hours passed and pints were drunk. He managed to get a sleeping space on a small, old and rather smelly sofa near the toilet.
-Make sure you wake up till seven, the other shift comes in then and I don't want you or me to get in trouble. the bar-keeper had said.
The phone's alarm had gone off. It was ten to seven in the morning. His head was spinning, the muscles hurting right through to the bone.
He felt like a sixty year old, although he was in his thirties. Nevertheless, he got used to everything. It was no new state he was passing now.
He got up, stretched and walked out of the bar.The barkeeper was still sleeping in another room.He had two hours ahead of him before going back to his truck and start work.
It was a cold autumn morning.
He hated autumn.
In autumn everything left life behind, the trees, the streets, the sky, the people.
He thought autumn was a zombie-season.Steam came out of his mouth as he yawned.
What should he do in this spare time. He went back to the parking lot where he'd have his truck.He used a toothbrush, soap to freshen up. he didn't feel like shaving. Put everything in it's right order and headed back to the bar.
By this time the new shift had been settled already and nobody would ask a thing.The bar was full of morning persons. He wasn't one of them. Even though he was forced to wake up early, that didn't mean he enjoyed it.
He hated it, actually.
He hated people looking all smiley and jolly before ten o'clock.''What's wrong with you people?Wife's kicked you out of bed?'' he thought. Hmmm....The wife.
He wasn't far from the case himself.He ordered a double coffee and a shot of whisky. Make that double as well. That would warm him up a bit.
He looked around, the tables had a few empty cups waiting to be cleaned and there were cigarettes butts lying on the floor as if the Smokers Association had just been holding a congress there.
-Have you got a newspaper, mate? he asked the new, younger bar-keeper.
He received one of those thin, free-given, not-much-to-read newspaper.
There wasn't tons of info he could get from it, but he felt like ''washing'' his eyes on something.Makes him more focused on driving afterwards. he ordered himself a small beer and another whisky, slipping through the paper's pages, looking like a regular.
By the time he got back to his truck he'd drunk three beers and two double whiskey. The breakfast of a champion.
He took another unopened bottle of ale with him, just in case he'd get thirsty on the road.He jumped into the driver's seat, adjusting all things necessary, looked at his watch.He didn't pass by his wife to say goodbye.
He thought it brought bad luck.He took out the bottle from the bag and opened it. He looked around to make sure no one's eyeing him and began to experience with its taste. He felt the same way he'd felt the first time having an ale. He was drinking it with such a haste, then he was tasting it slowly, as if it was his last.
Threw the bottle out the window and proceeded on the road. It took half an hour to make it out the traffic ring around the city.
He wasn't keen on entering and getting out of town. He knew how much hassle that included.The alcohol hadn't made its effect on him yet, but he felt in a good mood now.he started laughing and humming.
He put an old Vangelis tape into the player.
He was feeling top notch. The day had turned out sunny, after a previous rainy week. He pressed the pedal, the highway was inviting him to give full throttle.He turned the volume to the max.Besides drinking, that was the only thing he cherished that had not cheated on him.His eyes became watery, he couldn't distinguish the commands anymore.
He tried to rub his eyes but he couldn't.
At one point he thought he'd see his wife in the middle of the highway waving at him.He pushed the brake , trying to avoid ''her'', but lost control of the wheel.
Tyres screetched, the truck made an u-turn and hit three other cars in the process, then it flipped on one side, crushing a couple more under it's heavy weight.
Chaos had set foot on the highway. He had died almost instantly from the violent impact.
He had had his last beer, after all....
She searched for her phone. He didn't pass by to say goodbye, ne never did, but the fight they'd had, had taken bigger proportions this time. she dialed his number, but nobody picked up.
Second attempt, third...same thing.
She sighed and went into the livingroom, turned on the tv. She had let the office know she'd take a day off. She didn't feel like facing everyone, looking like she did :bloated eyes from crying all night long, messy hair and red spots on her neck and chest.
She'd get those whenever annoyed, stressed or angry. She flipped through the channels, but there was nothing to see, really. It was barely eleven.
''We interrupt the programme for breaking news. The A1 has suffered a chain of accidents just half an hour ago. The situation is critic. All exits are blocked. Nothing is known about the cause that triggered the event, but eye witnesses claim it all started from a large transport truck losing its way in traffic and damaging a few other cars. The firemen and highway police are doing their best in getting everyone injured as soon as possible to the nearest hospital.the death toll as till now is seven. we'll be back with further information.....''
The announcement made her freeze.
The screen had a ''Highway to Hell'' title for the breaking news, and it remained stuck to her eyes. They hadn't given any names, but she knew it was him.
She could imagine him having a laugh while drinking his last beer, pushing the pedal, feeling confident.
Earlyer the morning she had thought about calling him to try to reconcilliate all. She thought about giving up seeying other men and be closer to him to overcome his drinking problem.
Maybe they had passion for love, not only for fighting. But now, she stopped thinking.
There would be no reconcilliation anymore, there would be no discussion about having the last drink. She remembered the few times talking about ''a last drink''.
-This is your last drink, Nate! she'd scream at him when he'd be drunk.
His answer was puking after he'd nod.
But now, there would be no her.
No him, anymore, no more together.
No more love.
All those words vanished from her vocabulary......
She remained frozen, breaking news title caught up in her retina...
Highway to Hell.
giovedì 13 agosto 2009
Stories from outside your window part 3
He had his phone by his ear.He cleared his voice, wanting to sound older than he was.
''C'mon, c'mon, you've got to pick up.''
-Hey mate, it's me.Listen, I need one. Now.
-Need what? the voice on the other end answered.
-I need one.
-No can do. You already owe me the money for the last two and till you pay those you ain't getting any.
-Ah, c'mon, mate. You know me. I'll get you the money asap.
-Yeah, I know you, but I don't know your money, do I now?Besides, that's what you always say.
-Just this once, please...I...But the other guy had already hung up before he could finish his sentence.
Second call.
-Oi, it's me. I need one.
-You're getting too much into this shit, man. And I don't want to be responsible for that.My answer is no.
He sounded like there would be no way to change his mind.
-Fuck! he shouted.
The people around were staring at him.He was on his way home. In the tram.He hung up.
-What? he stared back at the people.
It didn't seem to be his day, apparently.He thought about selling his phone to get the money, but the thing was he had a junk-ass piece of shit equipment as a cell.And nobody would buy it. If any would, he'd get just a part of what he needed.
''Damn, this is fucked-up!'' he told himself.He could take some money from his mom's purse once he reached home, but she would notice easily and get suspicious. He'd get in trouble. She didn't know about him yet, even though she saw him change the past few months. So that was out of the question. And he didn't have anywhere else to get the money from.
His last option: stealing. But how?
Where from? A store?
A bank? Nah, he couldn't do that.
Besides he was alone and too young to pull out something like that. He needed an accomplice for that. And he didn't have one. But he could do something else.
He had an aunt living nearby and he used to babysit now and then for his little cousin. He was an infant.He would get an extra buck for that.
But he didn't want the extra buck. He wanted quite a few of them. He thought it over and it came out to him how to do it.The tram had stopped. He got off and started slowly walking towards his aunt's apartment.
He was thinking the words he'd say, the face he'd put, the mannerisms he'd use.She knew him quite well, he had gone two days a week at her place for the last three years now.
''This will never work out!'' he said to himself.
''Yes, it will, cause I need one!!'' his counter-thought came back at him.
He reached the building.
It looked just like any other.Grey, depressing; people living in those flats like they're Guinea pigs or sardines in a can. Besides, he never liked the area.It's not like he lived in a luxury part of the city but here everything looked even more sad and hopeless than other neighbourhoods.
He cleared his voice again, took a deep breath, started climbing the stairs. The lift hadn't been working in years and hence most of the building inhabitants couldn't afford to pay for a new one, they just took part in daily exercises in the form of stairs-climbing.
Lucky him, his aunt lived at the second floor.It was a 8-story building.He got to the door. Put his ear close to it, trying to hear if any activity was done inside. Couldn't get anything clear, though. He pressed the ring button.
The doorbell rang for a few seonds till a voice behind the door was heard: ''I'm coming, just wait a bit!''She opened the door.
She looked surprised but happy at the same time.
-Oh, dear, how nice to see you again.
-Hi, auntie.How have you been doing?
-Come on inside.
And she got out of the way so he could get in.Closed the door and showed him the way to the living room.
She'd always do that, although he'd been in her place a thousand and one times. The apartment was old-furnished, she hadn't the money to change anything. It looked cold, but she didn't lack the more or less modern appliances. Don't expect to see a LCD or computer in, though.
Her husband had divorced her for three years now, about the time he started babysit his cousin, and he had left for Spain. But he'd help her every now and again with a bit of money. It was more for the kids, rather than for her.She had another son, out of town for college. He was 21 years old and he'd visit whenever possible, but lately he'd grown apart from her.
They reached the living room. The feeling of poor was toned down slightly, the best-looking furniture found its place here, besides she didn't use it much.lots of photos were staring back at him.They seemed to be plenty more than last time he'd been here.
She hugged him and started to pull his cheeks.
-Ah, c'mon, auntie. I'm not a kid anymore. He pulled back.
-Yes, but you're still my nephew. You know,I love you like a son, Michael, don't you?
-Yes, I know , auntie.
They took a seat at a table. She lit herself a cigarette.
-So, what brings you around here? You know Dan's not here!
-I was in the neighborhood, passing by.The last three classes in school were cancelled, teachers strike or something like that. And I just wanted to see how were you doing, how are you hanging on. How's Dan's state now, is he showing some improvement?
Her face seemed to fall on the floor. A minute earlyer she had a half-smile on her face, now she seemed like she'd start crying.She took her eyes from him, put the cigarette in the ashtray, and clasped her hands as if she'd say a prayer.It seemed forever till she answered.
-Well, you know, he's doing better, but not great. I mean, he looks weak, he is weak and there's nothing I can do to help him. The doctor said they haven't found a donor yet.It could take more than what they'd thought.He's always in pain, the kemo is no thing for a six year old.
She kept staring into thin air.
-You know, two days ago he asked me ''Mom, why me. It hurts so much.Why can't I go home? I wanna go home with you mommy!!'' And I couldn't give him an answer.I felt like someone had ripped my heart into tiny pieces.
She started crying. Hot tears being released from her big brown eyes showed more pain than her son was going through.
She took his hand.
He felt embarassed.Didn't know what to say.He never knew how to act in these situations.He hadn't faced many, thus experience was speaking its words.
-Things will get better, auntie, trust me.They'll find a donor soon.
-I sure hope so, love.I can't take it anymore.To see life fade away from him, day by day. He hasn't done anything wrong to anyone, he's six, for Christ's sake!
-Now, now, calm down, auntie.It's gonna get better.
A few minutes of silence passed. She still had his hand in hers.
The tears stopped.She cleant her face with a tissue.
-I'll be paying him a visit later on. Gotta talk to the doctor as well.
She stood up.
-I'm going to make some tea.You fancy a cup, love?
-Yes, I would auntie, thank you.
''Tea? Gimme a damn beer! '' he thought. She went into the kitchen. He started looking around for her purse. He spotted it. He was sure he'd find some money in it.If not, he'd have to come up with something else.
-Do you want two sugar cubes or none at all? she shouted from the kitchen.
-Either way's fine by me, auntie!
He rolled his eyes, nodding his head as saying a ''no''.
The phone rang.
-I'll be there in a sec.Let me get this first! she shouted again.
''Don't worry, take your time!'' he thought.
-Yes, ok!
Now was his opportunity.
He got off his chair and jumped to the purse. He wasn't looking behind, like he'd knew she wasn't arriving. His hand dug deep, gripping an envelope. He took it out. Her surname was written on it. He looked inside. It was full of notes, so many he hadn't seen in his life , yet.
She had put the money aside to give the doctor so he could take more care of her son.A small attention from her in exchange to a small attention from the doctor.
''Jackpot, baby!''he told himself.A big grin found its place on his face. He put the envelope in the jacket pocket, his aunt's purse in its right setting, like nothing happened.
She finished the conversation. Brought the tea into the living room. Set it on the table. She found him standing.
-That was the doctor. He said Dan was improving and that he might get better soon. Are you okay, love?
He looked a bit rushed.
-Yeah, I'm fine. Just looking at the photos. I see you've added more to the collection.
-Aren't you gonna have your tea?
She took a sip from her cup.
-I put two cubes in. Quite nice.
The tea would do her well. Calm her a bit. She did need some peace of mind.He turned his eyes to her
.-I think I'll pass the tea, auntie. I've got to go. My mom's probably waiting for me. Thank you anyway.
-But you haven't even tried it! she said with a confused tone.
-I know it's great, but really have to go. Maybe next time, when Dan's home.
He hit the sensitive chord.
She smiled for half a second and took another sip of tea.
-Ok, let me accompany you to the door then.
He stopped her from getting up.
-It's no need, auntie.I know the door, thank you.See you soon.
He turned his back and went for the door.He left her pondering with the cup in her hand.
The tea was quite nice.
He got out of the building, trying to regain his breath after running down the stairs like he'd been in a marathon.Cut the first corner, bought himself a beer at a store nearby and took out the phone.He'd call the first guy.
-Oi, it's still me!
-I thought I told you already how things are. Please, don't persuade me cause it ain't working......
-I've got the money!
It sounded like a spell.
The guy put the phone closer to his ear.
-Really?
-Yes, really!No bullshit.Plus, you're getting what I owe you as well!
-Fuck me in the ass and call me gay, it must be Christmas!And where did you get it from?Scratch that, I don't want to know.Just don't make a joke out of this. Meet me at the ''Place''.....
He hung up.
The ''Place'' was their meeting point. That's where the guy lurred him in the first time. Taking trips down memory lane again.The guy was only 5 years older than him, doing this to support his college bills. It was a private one.Private classes.That cost money. A lot.He wasn't doing any himself, but he gotten addicted to seeying these poor nobodies(most of them in their teens) ruin their lives.
That was his bad side.
They met at the ''Place''. Traded the ''goods'', shook hands and both left quickly, never looking back. They both got what they wanted.The guy would always give ''tools'' to payers : syringe, lighter and spoon.
That was his good side.
He knew an abandoned building on the other side of the city, perfect for him. It was one of these many unfinished construction sites.
''Houses that many will call home sweet home'' told the slogan once.It was more like ''Houses that nobody will see done''.
He could afford a taxi now, so he took one. Fuck the tram, let the others take it. He reached the destination. It all looked deserted.
At nights homeless people would find their sleeping ''beds'' here. In broad daylight, nobody hung around.He took out the ''tools'' from the small bag the guy had given him.
Prepared the stuff like a pro. He'd done this quite a few times. Besides, he was a fast learner. He filled the syringe with the resulted liquid from heating a spoon containing the heroin.
His left arm looked a battle camp.He thrusted the needle into one of the few virgin veins letting the heroin flow into his blood, his body, his mind, his soul, himself.
He felt God.
He was thinking of all those things he was getting away from.
Agony and ecstacy. Wars. Poverty.School. Lies. Rough life. Famine. Hunger.
It all sounded the same, but he wanted as many things as possible on his list.
He lay there, half-dead, the syringe falling from one hand, the other kept as a fist, eyes closed. away from everything and everyone.
Away from himself.
Away from the pain he was constantly feeling inside of him seeying people having things, and him having shit.
Away from the world.
He was having everything he'd wished for now.
He didn't need the world.
The world didn't need him.......
''C'mon, c'mon, you've got to pick up.''
-Hey mate, it's me.Listen, I need one. Now.
-Need what? the voice on the other end answered.
-I need one.
-No can do. You already owe me the money for the last two and till you pay those you ain't getting any.
-Ah, c'mon, mate. You know me. I'll get you the money asap.
-Yeah, I know you, but I don't know your money, do I now?Besides, that's what you always say.
-Just this once, please...I...But the other guy had already hung up before he could finish his sentence.
Second call.
-Oi, it's me. I need one.
-You're getting too much into this shit, man. And I don't want to be responsible for that.My answer is no.
He sounded like there would be no way to change his mind.
-Fuck! he shouted.
The people around were staring at him.He was on his way home. In the tram.He hung up.
-What? he stared back at the people.
It didn't seem to be his day, apparently.He thought about selling his phone to get the money, but the thing was he had a junk-ass piece of shit equipment as a cell.And nobody would buy it. If any would, he'd get just a part of what he needed.
''Damn, this is fucked-up!'' he told himself.He could take some money from his mom's purse once he reached home, but she would notice easily and get suspicious. He'd get in trouble. She didn't know about him yet, even though she saw him change the past few months. So that was out of the question. And he didn't have anywhere else to get the money from.
His last option: stealing. But how?
Where from? A store?
A bank? Nah, he couldn't do that.
Besides he was alone and too young to pull out something like that. He needed an accomplice for that. And he didn't have one. But he could do something else.
He had an aunt living nearby and he used to babysit now and then for his little cousin. He was an infant.He would get an extra buck for that.
But he didn't want the extra buck. He wanted quite a few of them. He thought it over and it came out to him how to do it.The tram had stopped. He got off and started slowly walking towards his aunt's apartment.
He was thinking the words he'd say, the face he'd put, the mannerisms he'd use.She knew him quite well, he had gone two days a week at her place for the last three years now.
''This will never work out!'' he said to himself.
''Yes, it will, cause I need one!!'' his counter-thought came back at him.
He reached the building.
It looked just like any other.Grey, depressing; people living in those flats like they're Guinea pigs or sardines in a can. Besides, he never liked the area.It's not like he lived in a luxury part of the city but here everything looked even more sad and hopeless than other neighbourhoods.
He cleared his voice again, took a deep breath, started climbing the stairs. The lift hadn't been working in years and hence most of the building inhabitants couldn't afford to pay for a new one, they just took part in daily exercises in the form of stairs-climbing.
Lucky him, his aunt lived at the second floor.It was a 8-story building.He got to the door. Put his ear close to it, trying to hear if any activity was done inside. Couldn't get anything clear, though. He pressed the ring button.
The doorbell rang for a few seonds till a voice behind the door was heard: ''I'm coming, just wait a bit!''She opened the door.
She looked surprised but happy at the same time.
-Oh, dear, how nice to see you again.
-Hi, auntie.How have you been doing?
-Come on inside.
And she got out of the way so he could get in.Closed the door and showed him the way to the living room.
She'd always do that, although he'd been in her place a thousand and one times. The apartment was old-furnished, she hadn't the money to change anything. It looked cold, but she didn't lack the more or less modern appliances. Don't expect to see a LCD or computer in, though.
Her husband had divorced her for three years now, about the time he started babysit his cousin, and he had left for Spain. But he'd help her every now and again with a bit of money. It was more for the kids, rather than for her.She had another son, out of town for college. He was 21 years old and he'd visit whenever possible, but lately he'd grown apart from her.
They reached the living room. The feeling of poor was toned down slightly, the best-looking furniture found its place here, besides she didn't use it much.lots of photos were staring back at him.They seemed to be plenty more than last time he'd been here.
She hugged him and started to pull his cheeks.
-Ah, c'mon, auntie. I'm not a kid anymore. He pulled back.
-Yes, but you're still my nephew. You know,I love you like a son, Michael, don't you?
-Yes, I know , auntie.
They took a seat at a table. She lit herself a cigarette.
-So, what brings you around here? You know Dan's not here!
-I was in the neighborhood, passing by.The last three classes in school were cancelled, teachers strike or something like that. And I just wanted to see how were you doing, how are you hanging on. How's Dan's state now, is he showing some improvement?
Her face seemed to fall on the floor. A minute earlyer she had a half-smile on her face, now she seemed like she'd start crying.She took her eyes from him, put the cigarette in the ashtray, and clasped her hands as if she'd say a prayer.It seemed forever till she answered.
-Well, you know, he's doing better, but not great. I mean, he looks weak, he is weak and there's nothing I can do to help him. The doctor said they haven't found a donor yet.It could take more than what they'd thought.He's always in pain, the kemo is no thing for a six year old.
She kept staring into thin air.
-You know, two days ago he asked me ''Mom, why me. It hurts so much.Why can't I go home? I wanna go home with you mommy!!'' And I couldn't give him an answer.I felt like someone had ripped my heart into tiny pieces.
She started crying. Hot tears being released from her big brown eyes showed more pain than her son was going through.
She took his hand.
He felt embarassed.Didn't know what to say.He never knew how to act in these situations.He hadn't faced many, thus experience was speaking its words.
-Things will get better, auntie, trust me.They'll find a donor soon.
-I sure hope so, love.I can't take it anymore.To see life fade away from him, day by day. He hasn't done anything wrong to anyone, he's six, for Christ's sake!
-Now, now, calm down, auntie.It's gonna get better.
A few minutes of silence passed. She still had his hand in hers.
The tears stopped.She cleant her face with a tissue.
-I'll be paying him a visit later on. Gotta talk to the doctor as well.
She stood up.
-I'm going to make some tea.You fancy a cup, love?
-Yes, I would auntie, thank you.
''Tea? Gimme a damn beer! '' he thought. She went into the kitchen. He started looking around for her purse. He spotted it. He was sure he'd find some money in it.If not, he'd have to come up with something else.
-Do you want two sugar cubes or none at all? she shouted from the kitchen.
-Either way's fine by me, auntie!
He rolled his eyes, nodding his head as saying a ''no''.
The phone rang.
-I'll be there in a sec.Let me get this first! she shouted again.
''Don't worry, take your time!'' he thought.
-Yes, ok!
Now was his opportunity.
He got off his chair and jumped to the purse. He wasn't looking behind, like he'd knew she wasn't arriving. His hand dug deep, gripping an envelope. He took it out. Her surname was written on it. He looked inside. It was full of notes, so many he hadn't seen in his life , yet.
She had put the money aside to give the doctor so he could take more care of her son.A small attention from her in exchange to a small attention from the doctor.
''Jackpot, baby!''he told himself.A big grin found its place on his face. He put the envelope in the jacket pocket, his aunt's purse in its right setting, like nothing happened.
She finished the conversation. Brought the tea into the living room. Set it on the table. She found him standing.
-That was the doctor. He said Dan was improving and that he might get better soon. Are you okay, love?
He looked a bit rushed.
-Yeah, I'm fine. Just looking at the photos. I see you've added more to the collection.
-Aren't you gonna have your tea?
She took a sip from her cup.
-I put two cubes in. Quite nice.
The tea would do her well. Calm her a bit. She did need some peace of mind.He turned his eyes to her
.-I think I'll pass the tea, auntie. I've got to go. My mom's probably waiting for me. Thank you anyway.
-But you haven't even tried it! she said with a confused tone.
-I know it's great, but really have to go. Maybe next time, when Dan's home.
He hit the sensitive chord.
She smiled for half a second and took another sip of tea.
-Ok, let me accompany you to the door then.
He stopped her from getting up.
-It's no need, auntie.I know the door, thank you.See you soon.
He turned his back and went for the door.He left her pondering with the cup in her hand.
The tea was quite nice.
He got out of the building, trying to regain his breath after running down the stairs like he'd been in a marathon.Cut the first corner, bought himself a beer at a store nearby and took out the phone.He'd call the first guy.
-Oi, it's still me!
-I thought I told you already how things are. Please, don't persuade me cause it ain't working......
-I've got the money!
It sounded like a spell.
The guy put the phone closer to his ear.
-Really?
-Yes, really!No bullshit.Plus, you're getting what I owe you as well!
-Fuck me in the ass and call me gay, it must be Christmas!And where did you get it from?Scratch that, I don't want to know.Just don't make a joke out of this. Meet me at the ''Place''.....
He hung up.
The ''Place'' was their meeting point. That's where the guy lurred him in the first time. Taking trips down memory lane again.The guy was only 5 years older than him, doing this to support his college bills. It was a private one.Private classes.That cost money. A lot.He wasn't doing any himself, but he gotten addicted to seeying these poor nobodies(most of them in their teens) ruin their lives.
That was his bad side.
They met at the ''Place''. Traded the ''goods'', shook hands and both left quickly, never looking back. They both got what they wanted.The guy would always give ''tools'' to payers : syringe, lighter and spoon.
That was his good side.
He knew an abandoned building on the other side of the city, perfect for him. It was one of these many unfinished construction sites.
''Houses that many will call home sweet home'' told the slogan once.It was more like ''Houses that nobody will see done''.
He could afford a taxi now, so he took one. Fuck the tram, let the others take it. He reached the destination. It all looked deserted.
At nights homeless people would find their sleeping ''beds'' here. In broad daylight, nobody hung around.He took out the ''tools'' from the small bag the guy had given him.
Prepared the stuff like a pro. He'd done this quite a few times. Besides, he was a fast learner. He filled the syringe with the resulted liquid from heating a spoon containing the heroin.
His left arm looked a battle camp.He thrusted the needle into one of the few virgin veins letting the heroin flow into his blood, his body, his mind, his soul, himself.
He felt God.
He was thinking of all those things he was getting away from.
Agony and ecstacy. Wars. Poverty.School. Lies. Rough life. Famine. Hunger.
It all sounded the same, but he wanted as many things as possible on his list.
He lay there, half-dead, the syringe falling from one hand, the other kept as a fist, eyes closed. away from everything and everyone.
Away from himself.
Away from the pain he was constantly feeling inside of him seeying people having things, and him having shit.
Away from the world.
He was having everything he'd wished for now.
He didn't need the world.
The world didn't need him.......
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