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Miserable Existance
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Miserable Existance |
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Dick New Member
since 2000-12-17
Posts 4 |
I wish I could remember how I got myself into this situation. I would be a lot more cautious. I would make sure to avoid confrontations like this in the future. I wish I could remember, but I can’t. Even if I could remember, it would be the last thing on my mind. It’s hard to focus on something when you’re being kicked in the teeth by several people who seem to find your discomfort amusing. On my second occasion of being knocked to the floor, I find myself distracted by a little pink paperclip about four feet away. It looks so out of place here. I want to play with it. I want to pick it up and bend it and make little paperclip shapes out of it. Now probably wouldn’t be the most appropriate time. I’ll have to wait until they’re finished beating me up. Maybe I can pick it up after they leave. You know how sometimes, in a dream, you suddenly find yourself in a predicament, and can’t remember any of the events leading up to it? That’s kind of how this is. Nothing seems real or original. Everything is hazy and distant. Am I dreaming? Am I awake? I feel so detached. Getting beat up until you can barely remember your own name; what a miserable existence. I’m probably bleeding really bad, but why wipe it off? It looks more dramatic this way. I’ve been knocked to the floor again. I know I’m bleeding now. I’m dripping all over this guy’s shoes. Here it comes.....yep, right on schedule, another kick in the face. I guess I had that one coming though. I wouldn’t want some guy bleeding on my cool shoes. He really does have nice shoes. They’re much nicer than mine. I notice these guys have guns. Do I really want to die in these shoes? People will always remember me in these clothes because I died in them. I have much better shoes and clothes at my house. Perhaps if we could just postpone my beating for a moment, I could put on something more respectable. I really hope they don’t kill me. I won’t get the chance to tell my family or friends goodbye. I really wanted to say something really cool and memorable before I died. I wanted some type of over-dramatized circumstance with really elaborate last words. I don’t know what I would say, but I’m pretty sure it would be something good. I wonder where they will shoot me. Maybe they will shoot me in a non-vital area. I wonder how clean the bullet is. If the shot isn’t fatal, I hope the bullet is clean so that infection doesn’t start. (BANG!) This must be the moment before death where your memories flash before your eyes. I see...my family. Let’s think. I have my family, and friends......old girlfriends.....old loves.....there are a lot of people I should have known better than I did. I remember times that I have failed. I remember times that I have succeeded.......this is taking too long. What’s the hold up? I slowly open my eyes and unclinch my fists. I’m on my hands and knees, starring down at the bullet that would have shot me. It’s just lying there perfectly still. There is no way that they missed me. I pick up my head to look around. No one is moving. Their eyes are all fixed on me. This is reminiscent of “Pulp Fiction.” Did the bullet pass through me? Are they all astonished that I am still alive? Are they too afraid to move? That assumption may be farfetched, but it isn’t nearly as odd as what had actually happened. They are all starring at me, silently. They are all frozen, but not from fear. They aren’t watching me. Their eyes are fixated on me, but they can’t see me. They aren’t even blinking or breathing. My best venture is that time stopped moving. Time must have come to a standstill as soon as the bullet left the gun. What’s going on here? Did they hit me so many times that they damaged the part of my mind that recognizes reality? I’m not looking at people. I’m looking at statues.....shell. People have the ability to love, hate, think, move, feel, interact, and change. The only thing that these lifeless bodies are capable of is existing. Has time stopped? Why am I the only person aware of it? How am I not a mold of my former self, just as everyone else around me? This feels like an episode of the Twilight Zone. My knees are sore from falling on the floor over and over again. They feel stiff as I stand up. One by one, I walk past them, touching their faces and hands. I see nothing unusual, other than the fact that they don’t operate anymore. My footsteps are staggering. There is so much blood on me. I’m sick. I have to get out of this place and find help. Maybe I’m not alone. Where’s the door? Nevermind, I found it. Right beside a big, fat guy. He’s a tall, chubby, unattractive fellow who carries a stench of pure ass. He must have farted. Nobody smells that bad unless they’re dead. I wonder if a fart, under these conditions, would linger for eternity. While pushing fatty aside and walking through the door, I’m hit by a feeling of nausea. It could come from the strange situation I’m in. It could come from the fact that I’ve just been beaten senseless. It could also just be the wonderful fragrance of the fat man’s butt crack. Whatever it is, I’m compelled to throw up. (Gag!) (Fold over) (Drop to my knees) (And we’re off).............................(spit)....(spit)....(spit). I think that just about covers it. Wait........maybe I’m wrong. I was. Here it comes. A one, a two, a one, two, three, four..........(spit)....(spit)....(spit)....(spit). Hoorah! Vomit, breakfast of champions. Hey that’s pretty cool. I never realized I don’t chew canned peaches. They come out perfectly solid. I can barely wait to look up from my puke to see the world on pause. I hope it’s more entertaining than the peaches, but I don’t know...the peaches will be hard to beat. Upon looking up, it really sinks in. I am the last person left on Earth. I see people everywhere, unmoving. Predictable, reliable, like a photograph. They are nothing. I am something. I am the only something in the universe. Am I dreaming? Am I awake? I feel so detached. I’m the last person on Earth. Nobody to talk to. Nobody to interact with. What a miserable existence. Will it always be this way? I can’t function like this. I walk through the places I would usually go. I see so many faces. So many people I care for. There she is. It didn’t even register to me that I was looking for her. It must have been a subconscious thought. I’m always thinking about her. She’s gorgeous. She couldn’t have been taken at a better moment. Her hair blown back. Her lovely smile, piercing my heart. I wonder if it would be wrong to steal a kiss from her. I did it. It was more than I ever thought I could get from a lifeless frame. I told her. I said, “I love you.” She didn’t say it back. Kind of like when we were seeing each other. She never liked me the way I liked her. Ahhh! Now I’m pissed off. This isn’t right. Why would the world just turn itself off and leave me behind. Am I high? I can’t be high. I don’t use drugs. Maybe I do and I’m just too high to know it. Am I awake? I feel so detached. What if my whole life were nothing but a drug induced fantasy? What if everything that I have ever said and done didn’t matter because I’m just another guy’s hallucination? What if he’s finished tripping out? What if he took my whole, little world away with him? What a miserable existence. The wind blows a lot for a book with only one word (me) in it. Newspapers are being strewn about the streets. Leaves still fall from the trees. I’m feeling a little bit better. I should probably wait for this glitch in time, like the winds, to blow over. Why am I depressed? I am the king of an entire planet. I’m feeling a lot better. Well, I was feeling better until I scratched the back of my head and found a bullet hole. I feel so detached. "You know, they say that three species disappear off the planet each day. You wonder how many new ones are being created."--Mulder |
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raleighbttrfly Member
since 2000-11-21
Posts 160Raleigh NC |
Welcom and what away to start! this pice was diffrent and maybe a bit morbid but i mean that in a good way. you relay made me think, what if death is like that? what if we were to get frozen in the last moment of our life forever? it truly would be a "miserable existance". I truly enjoyed the read and hope to find more. I am not always lonely even if I am always alone |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
I enjoyed this, Dick! I thought you captured the non-feeling feeling of a beating quite well. In fact, you had me quite captivated, until the point of the persona's analyzation of the beating and life, while still being beaten. Didn't process for me. I think that if you could maintain the same level of intensity that you began with, you would end up with quite a piece of work. But on the whole? I liked it much. Portrayed what I have been telling people for years: "A punch in the face does NOT hurt. But? Healing? is a sonova....."! |
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Tiersdin Member Elite
since 2000-11-17
Posts 2364east coast |
Wow! this was amazing! excellent! -Tier |
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Dick New Member
since 2000-12-17
Posts 4 |
Hey. Thanks a lot, guys. I really appreciate the comments. |
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Dawn Eclipse Senior Member
since 2000-01-31
Posts 637The Horsehead Nebula |
Interesting piece. I enjoyed this one. A different look at the way people act and think. wonderful  "Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other course, no other way... No day but today" ~Broadway Musical RENT~ *Cassandra Roseen* |
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fractal007 Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958 |
This one was cool. It sorta sounded a bit like a cross between Ray Bradbury's Night Call Collect and the Sixth Sense. On the whole, though, this story's analysis of life was quite good. I liked the way you conveyed the beating as being rather mundane and everyday. Nice work here. |
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&dispose Junior Member
since 2000-01-30
Posts 18 |
Interesting. Reminds of of "An Occurance at Owl Creek Bridge" but in a new, original way. I really love your use of humor in this story, it's incredibly ironic and out of place but it works well. Nice job. "There's a shadow just behind me, shrouding every breath I take, making every promise empty, pointing every finger at me. Waiting like a stalking butl |
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Swamp¤Faeryie Member
since 2000-12-04
Posts 393fairyland....of course;) |
wow....what a cool story...wow.... samantha "All art is an expression of pain."~John Lennon |
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Dick New Member
since 2000-12-17
Posts 4 |
wow. thanks for all of your thoughts. you guys are my new favorite people. "I am become the almighty invisible man Being controlled by you isn't part of his plan." < !signature--> [This message has been edited by Dick (edited 01-12-2001).] |
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