A Case of Mistaken Identity ~ Complete Story
He put down his gun; it still had a trickle of smoke spiraling from the barrel. He had fired it only twice before and never really cared for it, but this time it was different, this time it felt gratifying. For the first time in years He felt truly alive... Fact that was indeed peculiar.
This was the first time He had ever vandalized a place. He slowly moved about the office, slithering between the cubicles. Misc. papers strewn across the floor, crinkled as He passed each booth, frightening them to scrap.
Oh and Death was.... outside the office. Thrilled to be alive, nice to meet them all. A tad paranoid, somewhat obsessive-compulsive and a control freak but It masked it well and they couldn't tell. For what is one’s hell, other than his/hers personal affair? Earlier on that day, under the shower head, assaulted by scalding water, It flipped a mental coin and scoffed. This life of make-belief was bothersome. Like a deaf pain pulsating and not at all vibrating... Death sensed the bloke moving closer in Its direction, took a metaphysical breath and discarded the body soon to be shot at point blank. But It was pleasantly intrigued when the Man simply walked away. What were his pathetic motivations for doing that? Lovely anthropomorphic Death couldn't miss the chance to tag along now, could It?
The fallen body in the lobby irked the Man for there was no one left in the city. Where did he come from? How did he get there? He checked every single office when He entered the premise. This wasn’t possible. It just simply wasn’t. He refused to acknowledge this fact. It must’ve been a hallucination. Even though it was quite a consistent one. But didn’t he hear a thud not long after he fired his rifle? If this was a nightmare, He should’ve woken up by now…
[Flashback]
No longer the memories of yesterday were within his grasp. Time had simmered to a full stop and He was still waiting on her letters. Could she still trace the wrinkles on his tarnished face? He doubted it but maybe she fell asleep thinking of better, more fuller days. Maybe she dreamed for both of them. Tick tock and tick, tick, tick. Another deflagration on the horizon. Burnt skin and sizzling blood. He could feel it evaporating just as well as He could sense the flakes of flesh left from the bodies, coming down on him and covering him in a shroud of mourning.
[ / Flashback]
He vaguely remembers…
He vaguely remembers knowing a man…
He vaguely remembers this man that wished to have his existence erased.
Now, since He no longer could recall his physical traits or other such characteristics, his antics or the way he talked, it is possible that he might have succeeded but then, why could He still vaguely know of him…
Death was walking alongside Him, oblivious to the fact that there wasn’t anyone else besides this Man. The streets were deserted. There was an eerie quietness enveloping the whole charade. But Death was either too drawn to this rogue figure to notice the inconsistencies of this apparent city or didn’t really care too much. Or at all for that matter. Because what is Life, other than an insignificant detail? Life was a segment while It was an unrestricted line, pouring and thrusting through everything. Including the Universe. And even through Time in all its splendor. Indeed, one could say that Death was quite the narcissist… And what a narcissist, It was…. There weren’t enough words to describe It.
[Flashforward]
He woke up on the beach. The sand was harsh under his fingers. It smelled of vanilla and of apple pie, which He deemed to be very curious. He looked up and saw the sky tuned to a putrid cherry color. It has always been like this since that Day. When the sky went out for a while and forgot to leave the two week notice. It never got too dark or too bright. On this plain of existence, time was busy playing with eternity and all that was left ,were patchoulis. Their scent was heavy and strong and induced an unwelcomed state of hypnosis. Ergo if you were wise, you kept away.
The Man rose and sat up. He rubbed his scratchy face and yawned. He felt deserted and thirsty. He took a breath. Held it. Counted till 5. 1,2,3,4,5. Then backwards. 5,4,3,2,1. Exhaled and afterwards… simply vanished into thin air. The sky lighted up and turned vermilion.
[ / Flashforward]
The Man didn’t know for sure when it happened but at some point, He had lost the meaning of life. Forgot its significance or maybe He just realized that Everything was simply useless and served no purpose. Not capable of feelings, He lived an existence just for the sake of living it. There was no one out there to teach him how to die and be reborn, how to die and to forget but still be able to lay within the embrace-of-a-lover-flavored-memory. And there was no language, through which He could express himself properly.
On the other hand, one could consider Death to be an otherworldly creature. And if that was the case, well then, there were a couple of things that Death felt the need to clear up. Mentally. For Itself mostly. It’d do itself a big favor.
Firstly, Death felt in a paroxysmal way and how It felt was not related in anyway to what a mortal experienced throughout its meager life. Its feelings were different and never polarized. In this matter, Death was incapable of distinguishing human emotions or be subtle about them. Strike 1.
Secondly, It like all the other Lines out there, simply stuck to quietness and platitude till It’d start sporting the attributes of primordial arbors. Death didn’t hate, It obsessed. Because even the hounds of hell didn’t know what hatred was. Explaining the concept to them was a pointless occupation. The old language didn’t even display such phonemes.
Oh, there It went, again… rambling. Where was It? At being intrigued… Oh yeah, totally. More likely Death was particularly amused. And it wasn’t even anything to be amused of in the first place… Death was just emotionally challenged.
The city was blank because there simply wasn’t any reason for it to be alive and noisy. It went back to the standard default mode. Waited for instructions… But the User apparently forgot why He was there and what He was doing in the first place. Too many bunched up memories, too many scattered touches.
[Flashback]
She was looking at him but he wasn’t seeing her. For all that he knew, it was only a fantasy, that would only leave him with a bittersweet taste in the end. But she didn’t stagger, she entreated him by letting those hands of hers, guide him till the point at which they were both at the same eye level. She challenged him to take a sip from her being. To bathe in her scent. She turned her neck in offering. Kissing meant belonging, meant possession, dominance and sacrifice, mutual understanding. Kissing was therefore a contract and with every kiss, she kept her word as did he. She threw his mind into rapture and by the end, he was left with something to be fond of.
[ / Flashback]
When Death looked up at the sky, It saw that it was tuned to the nuance of white noise. The city interspersed itself, a pulse was propagated into shattering the windows. When It looked down, Death saw that the Man was pointing the rifle at It. Finally, the Man broke the Fourth Wall. It took a while but it was worth it. He fired it but this time, it felt awkward. Like the gun didn’t belong in his hands. He looked and noticed another man crumpling to the ground…
And then it came to IT…
The trick, the game, the pact, the bet, the scheme, the switch of places. Disgusted, Death threw the gun away. So vile and hot… It knelled in front of the dying man and smiled…
“Well, you did get your wish in the end. Is this what you wanted? Was it worth it? I thought it was brilliant… It was fun in a weird kind of way to be in your shoes. So clueless and blind. But still very much alive. Hope you’ll meet her again, wherever it is you go, now… She was lovely indeed.”
It whispered whimsically a “Sayonara” while the man gave his last breath; then looked around the room and mentally flipped another coin. “What’s next?”
This was the first time He had ever vandalized a place. He slowly moved about the office, slithering between the cubicles. Misc. papers strewn across the floor, crinkled as He passed each booth, frightening them to scrap.
Oh and Death was.... outside the office. Thrilled to be alive, nice to meet them all. A tad paranoid, somewhat obsessive-compulsive and a control freak but It masked it well and they couldn't tell. For what is one’s hell, other than his/hers personal affair? Earlier on that day, under the shower head, assaulted by scalding water, It flipped a mental coin and scoffed. This life of make-belief was bothersome. Like a deaf pain pulsating and not at all vibrating... Death sensed the bloke moving closer in Its direction, took a metaphysical breath and discarded the body soon to be shot at point blank. But It was pleasantly intrigued when the Man simply walked away. What were his pathetic motivations for doing that? Lovely anthropomorphic Death couldn't miss the chance to tag along now, could It?
The fallen body in the lobby irked the Man for there was no one left in the city. Where did he come from? How did he get there? He checked every single office when He entered the premise. This wasn’t possible. It just simply wasn’t. He refused to acknowledge this fact. It must’ve been a hallucination. Even though it was quite a consistent one. But didn’t he hear a thud not long after he fired his rifle? If this was a nightmare, He should’ve woken up by now…
[Flashback]
No longer the memories of yesterday were within his grasp. Time had simmered to a full stop and He was still waiting on her letters. Could she still trace the wrinkles on his tarnished face? He doubted it but maybe she fell asleep thinking of better, more fuller days. Maybe she dreamed for both of them. Tick tock and tick, tick, tick. Another deflagration on the horizon. Burnt skin and sizzling blood. He could feel it evaporating just as well as He could sense the flakes of flesh left from the bodies, coming down on him and covering him in a shroud of mourning.
[ / Flashback]
He vaguely remembers…
He vaguely remembers knowing a man…
He vaguely remembers this man that wished to have his existence erased.
Now, since He no longer could recall his physical traits or other such characteristics, his antics or the way he talked, it is possible that he might have succeeded but then, why could He still vaguely know of him…
Death was walking alongside Him, oblivious to the fact that there wasn’t anyone else besides this Man. The streets were deserted. There was an eerie quietness enveloping the whole charade. But Death was either too drawn to this rogue figure to notice the inconsistencies of this apparent city or didn’t really care too much. Or at all for that matter. Because what is Life, other than an insignificant detail? Life was a segment while It was an unrestricted line, pouring and thrusting through everything. Including the Universe. And even through Time in all its splendor. Indeed, one could say that Death was quite the narcissist… And what a narcissist, It was…. There weren’t enough words to describe It.
[Flashforward]
He woke up on the beach. The sand was harsh under his fingers. It smelled of vanilla and of apple pie, which He deemed to be very curious. He looked up and saw the sky tuned to a putrid cherry color. It has always been like this since that Day. When the sky went out for a while and forgot to leave the two week notice. It never got too dark or too bright. On this plain of existence, time was busy playing with eternity and all that was left ,were patchoulis. Their scent was heavy and strong and induced an unwelcomed state of hypnosis. Ergo if you were wise, you kept away.
The Man rose and sat up. He rubbed his scratchy face and yawned. He felt deserted and thirsty. He took a breath. Held it. Counted till 5. 1,2,3,4,5. Then backwards. 5,4,3,2,1. Exhaled and afterwards… simply vanished into thin air. The sky lighted up and turned vermilion.
[ / Flashforward]
The Man didn’t know for sure when it happened but at some point, He had lost the meaning of life. Forgot its significance or maybe He just realized that Everything was simply useless and served no purpose. Not capable of feelings, He lived an existence just for the sake of living it. There was no one out there to teach him how to die and be reborn, how to die and to forget but still be able to lay within the embrace-of-a-lover-flavored-memory. And there was no language, through which He could express himself properly.
On the other hand, one could consider Death to be an otherworldly creature. And if that was the case, well then, there were a couple of things that Death felt the need to clear up. Mentally. For Itself mostly. It’d do itself a big favor.
Firstly, Death felt in a paroxysmal way and how It felt was not related in anyway to what a mortal experienced throughout its meager life. Its feelings were different and never polarized. In this matter, Death was incapable of distinguishing human emotions or be subtle about them. Strike 1.
Secondly, It like all the other Lines out there, simply stuck to quietness and platitude till It’d start sporting the attributes of primordial arbors. Death didn’t hate, It obsessed. Because even the hounds of hell didn’t know what hatred was. Explaining the concept to them was a pointless occupation. The old language didn’t even display such phonemes.
Oh, there It went, again… rambling. Where was It? At being intrigued… Oh yeah, totally. More likely Death was particularly amused. And it wasn’t even anything to be amused of in the first place… Death was just emotionally challenged.
The city was blank because there simply wasn’t any reason for it to be alive and noisy. It went back to the standard default mode. Waited for instructions… But the User apparently forgot why He was there and what He was doing in the first place. Too many bunched up memories, too many scattered touches.
[Flashback]
She was looking at him but he wasn’t seeing her. For all that he knew, it was only a fantasy, that would only leave him with a bittersweet taste in the end. But she didn’t stagger, she entreated him by letting those hands of hers, guide him till the point at which they were both at the same eye level. She challenged him to take a sip from her being. To bathe in her scent. She turned her neck in offering. Kissing meant belonging, meant possession, dominance and sacrifice, mutual understanding. Kissing was therefore a contract and with every kiss, she kept her word as did he. She threw his mind into rapture and by the end, he was left with something to be fond of.
[ / Flashback]
When Death looked up at the sky, It saw that it was tuned to the nuance of white noise. The city interspersed itself, a pulse was propagated into shattering the windows. When It looked down, Death saw that the Man was pointing the rifle at It. Finally, the Man broke the Fourth Wall. It took a while but it was worth it. He fired it but this time, it felt awkward. Like the gun didn’t belong in his hands. He looked and noticed another man crumpling to the ground…
And then it came to IT…
The trick, the game, the pact, the bet, the scheme, the switch of places. Disgusted, Death threw the gun away. So vile and hot… It knelled in front of the dying man and smiled…
“Well, you did get your wish in the end. Is this what you wanted? Was it worth it? I thought it was brilliant… It was fun in a weird kind of way to be in your shoes. So clueless and blind. But still very much alive. Hope you’ll meet her again, wherever it is you go, now… She was lovely indeed.”
It whispered whimsically a “Sayonara” while the man gave his last breath; then looked around the room and mentally flipped another coin. “What’s next?”
