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Sunday, September 25, 2011


Down in the wake
She cries
down by the beach house
waving goodbye
you wept, of what you missed
dream what you want
dream what you wish

I can see everything,
you have in your head
cuz you are dreaming
I can see everything
cuz im your friend
people and friends arent sleeping
but you dont see it
I can see everything,
you have in your head
cuz you are dreaming

They came, down on me
why, cant you see
they all claimed you were dead,
it all fell on my head,
when all the planets collide
you just stay back and lie and
this is what I hear you say

goodbye, goodbye
all the lions came out
and the fires subside
time to look at me now
with shadowy eyes
so do I look like im mad?
cuz all i ever wanted was for us to be happy

Remember Me

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Listening For That Sweet Tune-Chapter 11: Delusions and the Feeling of Dead Friends

Have you read the preceding chapters?
If not then read it from the beginning
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Previously on Listening For That Sweet Tune:

The apartment looked like it always did but it felt so much more different from what it was in the past. I sat up from my bed, put my feet on the right—if you were laying in it—and then I looked out the window that was directly in front of my gaze approximately five feet from my toes to the walls. It was dark outside, but not as dark as it can get. I tilted my head to see more out of the window and I felt threatened by the look the dark treacherous clouds were looking at me, like they wanted to break through the window and try to strangle me before I had the chance to look for a rainbow. I’m seeing things again, but that is becoming a regular thing for me. 

I see ballroom dancing on the ceiling eight feet above my head. If I would just reach for the ceiling I would touch the romantic dancers enjoying the night of their lives. So much harmony, so many things that make me feel like I understand everything about anything I think about now. I shifted my gaze back up to the ballroom dancers and I looked at the female partner. Her skin was paler than the whitest linens and even a whiter dress. Her hair was so red I felt like she was covered in blood but the purity of her dress would never let anything to stain leaving just the blood on her head—I have to be seeing things. The dancers spun and twirled through the walls and into my family room—I had to watch them, something compelled me.  

I got up from the bed and dragged my feet towards the adjacent room. Feels like my central force of gravity just went up three times the amount more than Newton’s first law and as I walked into the next room and I fell to my knees and started to cough aggressively, I couldn't breathe. I fell head first into the ground directly on my stomach, I used all my might to turn my head any direction and my neck rotated counter clockwise to have me gaze to my right. The only thing in my view was my door that led out to the third floor hallway, I heard movement outside. Subtle at first then I heard a pounding on the door. I looked at the door then looked to the gap between the door and the floor. At this moment I felt compelled to clean my floor, with every exhale I take I can see clumps of dust particles rolling up into a little dust ball and starting to take the form of some intricate sculpture, but who was behind the door intrigued me more than the Palace of Versailles could ever do.

     The knocking grew progressively louder and I urged to find all my strength just to move, but I couldn't even budge. I opened my mouth and with all my might I finally yelled something.

‘Come in!’ I heard a stir on the other side of the door, the door handle wiggled but it never opened, then another pound came afterwards. I seem to forget I still have those genetic traits that will keep the door locked to all who is in the outside world. I finally positioned my face so I could see between the door and the floor; I didn't see anything on the other side. As soon as I realized I was now truly alone, all the force that was holding all my joints down to the floor raised off of my body. I breathed in deeply confirming that the function of my lungs never left and got up off the ground and dusted off my body. I wish that I was OCD too, that would defiantly benefit this apartment and all of its filthiness. 

I looked around to see if I could find the dancing couple. With the front door in front of me, my bedroom to the right and the open living room behind me—which I was practically already standing in. If you placed a straight line from my front door to my center living room window—which was behind me—you would find that the layout of my apartment was perfectly symmetrical minus the bathroom—to my right which is connected to my bedroom--and to my left in the same place is the kitchen. Two rooms, living room, one bathroom, one kitchen and some haunted foyer that leads me outside to god knows what and when all was placed in front of me I realized that my apartment is a perfect rectangle.

Now this normally wouldn't make a difference but the significance is that I fell and am currently standing in the exact center of the apartment. What are the odds? If I want to be precise it would be one in two thousand five hundred and twelve, due to that being the total square footage of my apartment but I couldn't say for sure but I need to focus back to the dancing couple. I can see directly into the kitchen and no one is in there unless if they are hiding in the cupboards, and if they were doing that I would start to question there sanity let alone my own. The last place to look was to my left in the other bedroom. I tried to move as fast as I could due to my recent experience of lack of mobility and I approached the door in seconds. I gently put my head next to the door to see if I could hear anything on the other side but I heard absolute silence. 

My apartment—this town even—has been oddly quiet. I don't know if it has always been like this—I felt a chill down my spine. All I could hear now was my own thoughts and now, I don't even know if I can even hear anything. I inhaled deeply and made the most subtle exhale I could just so I could reassure myself that I haven't gone deaf, and I haven't. I started to move my hand toward the door knob then turned it as slow as I could while looking around to make sure nobody was watching—I don't really know why, but I have always felt that I’m being watched. The knob was fully turned and then I started to wonder what my next move would be. Before I wanted any more paranoia kick in I swung the door open as fast as I could to find the weirdest sight I have seen since I first left this apartment.

I never wanted to see such a beautiful couple to be torn apart in the most awful way I could have ever dreamed. I really wish I could say that I wasn't seeing anything but this had to be real. Blood, blood in every corner of the room I can see and the couple is still on the ceiling, floating like they can never be touched by any evil—it seems like they have though. I couldn't breathe, the couple was all torn into pieces. I don't think that there was a single body part that wasn't slashed and broken in one way or another. I could only contemplate one thing after witnessing this sight and that was what happened? It was so quiet that I doubt they were, dare I say it, murdered? They just passed away as if they were just waiting for this to happen. I examined the ceiling; at it was covered with this crimson liquid. I walked a step in--I had to see the room in full. I looked into the corner closest to my left and it seemed that an inner cave wall was forming as if it was becoming a living thing—I was starting to feel sick.

I turned around to see a bright light from around the corner to my left and after a few steps forward I noticed that the front door was unlocked from all its latches and chains and was propped just like so, so I can see down the hallway of which, was not my apartment. I looked both ways before I started to venture across the room just to make sure there wasn’t any oncoming traffic with a thought to kill, and a knife to complete the thought. I saw no one. I approached the door and as always as it seems, it looked like the door wasn’t forced open, as if the individual who opened it was already inside. I shut the door as fast as I could and upon locking the first safety device on the door I heard a swift sound of movement on the other side. I looked through the peephole, took a deep breath and focused into the little hole. Everything looked as it was but wasn’t. As if the walls were repainted and then I noticed it. It was like I was like everything was becoming older and turning into a colour tone of faded brown. I looked away, rubbed my eyes took another deep breath as focused into the hole again and everything I saw was far from joyful.

Imagine will you a natural disaster. It can be a flood to a firestorm or even an earthquake. But whatever happened that split second I had the urge to make sure I wasn’t delusional, something destroyed the rest of a building to reveal rubble and a manlike dark figure a few yards from my door-step and before I knew it a blink later he was only a few inches. The man was tall, the man was mad, the man was a figment of my own imagination because another blink later, I saw nothing. I walked away from the door feeling the new found sweat all over my face and I raised my hand to brush off my brow to see blood covered hands, my blood covered hands. I looked down to see blood all over my clothes and footprints from where I stood to the room where the lovely couple rested. I took a few steps toward the door and I saw a rather large knife hanging out of the doorframe and through the door as if it was there to keep the door closed. Upon a closer look, it was covered with blood; I removed the knife from the door, threw it to the side and opened the door to the guest bedroom. 

The room was clean, the room was spotless, and the room had someone lying on the floor face down. I walked in—already noticing this individual wasn’t breathing—to already draw to conclusions. What lay before me was a small child, long hair, wore a dress then I turned her over. I now know where the blood came from because every feature that can lie on a face was either missing or mutilated. Then I realized that through all the insanity filled incisions I noticed who it was, someone close, someone that I just saw no more of a day ago.

Next up in Listening For That Sweet Tune:

Chapter 12: More Than A Wall

Remember Me

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Listening For That Sweet Tune-Chapter 1: A Simple Beginning

     My mind flashes images across the scene showing images and text to fast to make sense of what was being shown. I see myself walking in a dark alley, I hear a man scream, and I rush to see what was the noise. Upon turning the corner, I never officially saw what was there to present itself to me. Now I am in a meadow. I look around to see tall grass shifting in the wind, with the bright blue sky I can see for miles. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply; I can smell various amounts of flowers and wildlife mixing them together just to throw me off of the differences between them. I open my eyes again and the field that once represented itself to me as gods great gift is now in cinders. A fire surrounds me and off in the distance I can see the silhouette of a tree fall down to the burning ground. I turn around and everything turns blue.

     Apparently I have had no need to breathe. In seconds I find myself underwater swimming to the surface, about to give up a hand from the surface grabs me and pulls me upon a large ship. When I finally reached the top deck, I finally caught my breath and while trying to see through the black blotches that asphyxiation had to offer, I was pushed to the ground. When I got to my knees I heard yelling, but not legible. It was like everyone was speaking in slow motion. I opened my eyes and I saw a rather large man in front of me pointing a gun at a young woman who was bound in front of me. I always wait for the flash of a new scene before me, but it never changes. Within seconds the young woman falls to the ground, all chaos goes quiet and the man walks to me. Finally it struck home, my hardened heart of a Pharisee screamed for what was lost and I started to cry. The man crouches to see me at my level and I see sympathy, its almost as if that he was the one that received the bullet. He watches me closely, my eyes meet his and he gets up to face away from me. I look around the boat and everything once brand new now turns rusty and worn. I looked at the man again and he didn’t seem to notice anything.

     A bone chilling scream plays through the air and everything I see starts to fall apart the ship rocks as if its sinking but the man stands firm as if I was only going crazy. He turns around and walks towards me at goes down to my level again, puts his mouth to my ear and says ‘7, 16, 6, 21, 14. She would be proud.’ He pushes me on my back and took a shot to the chest, the blood never felt more real, and all at once I realized. Nothing will be perfect, but at the time the blood flowed out of the internal body, it couldn’t have been a more perfect timing. Curtains draw, lights grow brighter and my story begins.

Next up in Listening For That Sweet Tune:

Chapter 2: The Awakening

Remember Me