Something or nothing- Part 3

Flashback:
The skies were ablaze, red hot, white in anger and blinding. The road was paved with the sweet colour of disappointment, bones of the past on either side, marking the borders, and borders were never to be crossed.
Her eyes saw the raging sea beneath, and her body reacted with longing. To be hiding under the waves, chocked by salt and drowning. She stood still, her brown dress flowing cautiously with the wind, her feet touching the dry bones lining the borderlines.
Before she even knew it, she was running towards the edge, crossing the borderline with no second thought, and flying into the welcoming sea beneath. There was a moment, she was suspended within the skies, it seemed. The rage within them calmed the rage within her.
Cold overtook, and her breath gave away. Darkness overthrew and her spirit gave way.
Sweat, on her forehead, under her arms, everywhere. Her eyes flew open, wide-awake, and alert. The moonlight poured in from the small opening that could hardly be called a window, it painted the white padded room with different shades of gray. The wind outside was fierce, scowling and threatening.
Her dreams were scattered, all bits and pieces of some far memory or some face that meant something. This was no different; she had flung herself over a cliff once or twice…
She sat still, staring at the white ceiling, counting the cracks until she sleep took her again.


Blue couch, white washed walls, colours that are meant to calm. All scientifically proven of course, it’ll take more than just colours to clam the insane. Doctor Cashtener sat in a chair across from her. He smiled, she only gave him a blank expressionless face to greet.
“So, tell me about these dreams Violet?” concern.
“I don’t want to talk about them.” hate.
“Do they scare you?” surprise.
“No.” Uncertainty
“What is it then?” more concern
Violet just smiled back, mockingly.
“I know you’ve been having nightmares since you arrived. The nurses hear you every night, screaming for-“
“MICHEAL.” More screaming.
“Yes, Michael.” He could see the emotions, vigorous, directing the muscles on her face, shame and despair.
“Micheal..” she lowered her eyes. Shame.
“Who is Micheal?” he asked her softly
“Sand.”
The word drifted in the darkness of her silence.
“Sand. Soft white sand, I want to bury myself in it. I want to hide underneath the ocean…” but she could only hide in the corners of her dopamine enhanced mind.
He sighed
“night, night.. here comes night. I hate the night, the nights were always the worse. Always.” She whimpered.
It was day. But there was no use trying to tell her that, she was gone… for now.
“Violet, where are you?”
“Wheres anyone… In the middle of the ocean, on a little sinking ship, in the ocean, in the ocean.”
“Violet-”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”
Rage.
“DON’T YOU DARE EVER THINK I WONT FIND OUT, DON’T EVER THINK YOU CAN TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME! I WILL FIND YOU! YOU ARROGANT SON OF A-”
“Take who?”
She made a wild gesture at him, restraints caught her midway through the movement and the laws of physics caught up with her and pushed her backwards. They came in and took her away. Her voice killed the hallow silence and bounced off the green walls of the facility.
“DON’T TAKE ME THERE, NOT THE HOUSE ON THE HILL…”
“Not that house on a haunted hill” hysterical laughter


Jasper shuffled his feet, right and left, anxiety was taking over. Pale white blue like light drowned his office, it spilled over the books, and painted the walls. Everything looked dull and dead under the dying evening sun, even the countryside looked white washed outside of his window.
His eyes traced the even lines on the documents laying demandingly on his table, along with another high stack of patient files.
There was a recognizable knock on his door, his secretary walked in holding a light blue folder, another comforting colour. She smiled, not so comforting.

“Dr. Cashtener, I need you to sign these papers, please?” She said this with her not so comforting smile held in place.

Something or nothing- Part 2

Cardboard. That’s how it felt like, do they ever mention that you start forgetting simple words as your life wastes away and your cells refuse to renew properly, nope. No one mentioned you’d forget simple words, guess that is the way of the universe.
The cardboard was actually in his hands, he was holding it up, the elegantly handmade sign- anything handmade makes it automatically elegant, that too is the way of the universe… or marketing executives? Anyway, the sign read “F you.”
Cash stood there with the cardboard sign, elegantly handmade, smiling in what he hoped was a welcoming “I’m a poor old man” smile. He swallowed some pills, his white gems, they helped with the headaches and the world.

A girl with a pierced face walked by, read the sign and laughed then continued on her way, perhaps to get more holes. Cash loved sitting there for the entire afternoon observing the reactions of people, their faces twisted either in disgust or in a smile, a psychology experiment if you will. He would know, he preached the subject to both students and patients alike, the students appreciate it, the patience however didn’t see the sense in it, they didn’t see much sense in anything though. As the years passed by him, and his body degenerated he didn’t see the sense in it either, yes, maybe along with his body his brain had decided to degenerated as well, maybe.
He continued to linger on the side of the pavement, “F you, f you.. f f f f f f F yoooouuuu…” He sang under his breath, swinging from one foot to the other slightly losing his balance.
“F you” meant nothing, he wasn’t swearing, passers by were to interpret it in anyway their narrow minds wished. He could see that most saw it as an offensive statement, it’s a letter next to a word, and it meant nothing. People take things that mean essentially nothing and somehow manage to twist the nothingness around into some sort of insult and play victim. And more than anything people just love playing victim.

“Mister. Hey! Mister!” a little girl smiled, it looked fake and plastered.
“Hello child,” He smiled back at her fake-ness.
“Why?” she asked, fake plastic sing song voice.
“Because.” He answered in a mimicking fake plastic sing song tone.
“Because the world is self-destructing?” there were three of her now,
“No because we’re pushing the “blow it all to fucking pieces” button child,” He laughed,

The world swung into focus now, like an HD TV.
“What? Because? I mean why are you holding up this sign… What does it mean? Do you want money? Are you homeless mister?” The child looked confused,
“Well, why not kid?” He smiled down at her. An angry mother grabbed the child and took her away, perhaps to dose her up with dreams and fairytales. Perhaps.

Cash put the cardboard on the floor kneeled down and wrote, “Make of it what you will.” In what he hoped was wise-all-knowing type of handwriting. He then taped to a display window, laughing at his own madness, a 47 year and 5 months old man dressed in a suit and tie hanging up a piece of wisdom on a cardboard.
If you drove past the river island on Central Street you would read “F YOU. Make of it what you will.” Wasted wisdom on humanity really, Cash shrugged, most things were wasted on humanity.

Cash proceeded to cross the street while the little green man flashed at him, he then stood at the middle of the cross roads and bowed to the cars facing him, thank you for providing me with such entertainment. He smiled at the little boy clapping in the car in front of him, and walked, blending into the crowed of mayhem. A respectable businessman, just another normal old guy in a crowed of normal boring people.

Something or nothing- Part 1

Steady now, your footsteps are falling heavy on the aching ground and I can hear your strained breaths under a breaking spirit. She smiles at his indifference, ironic after all the times he tried to convince her otherwise.

Flash back:
An old haunted road, one Victorian house. They were seated in an old ford, the blue washed away to grey, the seating cracked and broken.
“this is it?” his voice was as haunting as their surroundings
“yes” she looked into his dull eyes, they bored her.
“So, what now?”
Simple as a question might come but in this situation she couldn’t… Wouldn’t answer. Answering would mean taking responsibility for the actions that came. And everyone hated responsibility.

She heard the car door gently close behind him, she did not follow, she sat there trying to steady herself; She sat there trying to remind herself of herself. The string of events that brought them to this moment, although surprising were somehow expected, like something she’d seen before in a dream. With aching movements she got out of the car and stood next to him, then she was in his arms.
“Hello house on a haunted hill.” An insane smile played on her lips. Who cared about taking responsibility for your actions? Lets just be reckless, we’ll laugh at the wreck after we’ve created it.

Real time:
His emotions were running away from him, getting ahead of him and wreaking havoc. He blamed the pills, he could blame them for everything really. They make his worthless life feel responsibility-free.
He looked at the little orange bottle and smirked, shaking it, watching the little white gems moving left and right… left and right..
The world decided to spin on him that moment, Lucy, where was Lucy?
“luccceee… Luceee…” the words came out broken
static was filling up his head now, pain, pain, pain… Hello intolerable pain, he laughed manically and it seemed like a distant voice, not his own.
A white angel with red flaming hair guided him to something soft, he smiled in gratitude, the angel with flaming red hair placed something small in his sweaty palm. Her blurry white shadow came closer, heated words blew up in his consciousness
“Take your damn pills, old man.”
Feisty red headed angel, or devil, can’t really tell anymore. Is there much of a difference anyway?