A million lives lost

that's all there ever was

pain, hurt, hope

I want more, I need to feel

every death, see every face

vanish before me

let the life drift away Let go and let it be, never the way to be, frame work, measurements, starving to see anything but the blurs, the in-between. If I have one wing to fly with, I pluck the feathers, give them to the true, passionate, those who once were a memory of peace, friendship.

Fall forever with pure intent

loving desires for a future

that has been called and controlled

all of forever holding, hiding,

how motionless it seems

write through the stone

these days believe in night

night in day

a fate, destiny

not to be torn

Am I caught in hierarchy of reality or lazed in inaction of fiction, fighting for nothing knowingly breaking bonds, shaking chains for simplicity. Logic is a confusing as intuition, dreams as wonderful as war.

Straight from the soul, right through the world, ended at the pain.

 

Shadows line the streets, standing, we are all that is left.

The storm carries me away to a land of lull, within the warmth and comfort of my bed I drift asleep. Thinking about what Uncle Mel said, when suddenly a vicious flash of lightening breaks out from above. I wait in the short pause and just before the thunder I hear a distant sound, "Chloe." Startled I sit up in my bed listening to the rain prattle against my window, "Chloe!" The voice is closer this time and I realize it's my dad. I slept the whole day away. He's coming up the stairs. "Chloe come down here now," I moan and get out of bed. As I am going down the stairs I strain to hear what dragon I am preparing to slay, however my dad and Uncle Mel are talking. "Danny, I hardly went to school and look where I am," I jump down the rest of the stairs before my dad can respond. "Thanks Uncle Mel, but I think this conversation is meant for me," Uncle Mel shrugs and sits in front of the static, still wearing his raincoat. My dad is soaked to the bone and holding the phone, "So the schools still call? Isn't that a little too modern for today's day and age?" My joke falls flat as my dad pulls a chair out from the kitchen table, "sit," so I sit across from him. He seems like a beaten down dog and I can't help but feel a bit sorry for him, "I thought we had talked about you and school and made a plan," "We did, but we did have a contingency plan so I created one," "Fair enough, but here's my contingency plan you are hereby under house arrest, no leaving the house, no outside contact," "You can't arrest me, I want to talk to my lawyer!" My dad smiles a bit. "Chloe school is important, hanging around at home with an ex-comedian is only going to make you bitter," "and very unfunny," my Uncle Mel chimes in. "I know, schools goodly and a happy place but the world needs exploring and explorers, which I feel is my duty to do so," My dad gets up from the table and goes to the fridge, "well what are you looking for?" I don't answer. My dad simply brushes it off and prepares to make a sandwich. He also makes me one and we sit in silence watching Uncle Mel gaze into the static of the television, my dad making gestures with his hand that he's loopy. Once were finished eating, my dad heads upstairs but first turns and tells me, "please go to school, whatever you're looking for will always be out there." I'm not so sure. After all it's not easy to find someone who lives in the fragmented seconds between cause and effect, lightening and thunder. It's not easy to find a family that's been lost. I sit beside my Uncle Mel, he's flipping channels, talking about how gravity seems to be pushing down harder these days, deciding nothing's better than waiting to find a universe he turns off the TV. Crash. I look at Uncle Mel then run upstairs, the shower is still running. I try to open the bathroom door but it's locked, I call out but no one answers. I start to hit the door. Uncle Mel thuds up the stairs with a sludge hammer, "I had this hidden away for a special occasion." Bringing the hammer over his head, he swings and the door bursts open sending splinters everywhere. I look out from beside Uncle Mel to see my dad lying on the floor of the bathroom, not moving. There's blood. I start to cry as my Uncle Mel steps into the shower, " I told you gravity’s pushing harder, good thing I'm wearing this coat," he picks up my dad and carries him down to the living room. I follow behind crying, confused, feeling as if I was crushed by the sledge hammer. As we get downstairs the couch has been flipped over. My Uncle Mel quickly grabs a pair of keys from the table, "I'm going to save him, stay here, we'll be back soon. Remember, you're under arrest." With that he opens the door letting the night see what true misery is. Uncle Mel gives me a wink and shuts the door. I'm alone in the gale storm of events that just happened. I go and sit on the floor, leaning against the upturned couch. Somehow the TV flickers on, and the static returns. I stare at it. I watch the flickering lights, seeing patterns and then looking again to see that there are no patterns. It is both random and preordained. Simultaneous chaos and peace bordered in the same place. I can't look away. I see a man he is stretching past the continuous movement of lights and taking shape. "Chloe, Chloe," the whisper sounds cackled. I just watch as the man finally forms into a man, with the static flowing around him. "Chloe, help me," the man then disappears back into the static which seems to be moving faster and faster. The static is still making the cackled sound as I get up and move closer to the TV, touching the screen I see the patterns click together. A light screams out from the TV blinding me and destroying everything, as if the light was slowly swallowing the world. The voice comes through the high pitch of the static storm in a clear tone, "Help me, Chloe," The white light attaches itself to me, dragging me in. "Dad!"

My door creaks open just a smidgen so that my dad can look in at me. The sun may rise at 6:45 a.m. but before that my father's already off to work. "It looks like rain coming in from the east," he whispers as he closes the door, knowing I'm there listening. He's a meteorologist for channel six, or the WHEN, World Headquarters of Entertainment and News. I know, I know, it's almost as bad as one of my Uncle Mel's jokes. Once my dad has left for work, I daintily step out from my bed and toss the sheets aside. Downstairs my Uncle Mel is sitting on the couch; he's wearing a bright yellow raincoat and has an umbrella open as he watches a dead TV station, a static channel. "Going to school today?" He asks as I come down and take out a box of cereal from the kitchen cupboard, "there's a relative humility of 94% that I won't make it to school today."  He turns back to watch the television as I come and sit with him. "Don't you have anything better to do than watch nothing?" Uncle Mel closes his umbrella and throws it into the kitchen, "I am looking into the afterglow from the creation of the universe," he gets up and moves towards the door swinging his arms as if possessed by a terrible and clumsy urge to dance. He knocks a painting off the wall. "If I stare long enough I figure I can see a universe being created," I get up and go to pick up the painting he knocked off the wall, it's a picture of a rainy day my mother painted, although I don't remember this or her really, she left us when I was little. Whenever I ask my dad about her he says one of two things, either, "You're mother is like music under the sea, gurgled at times but beautiful when heard," or, "She was the moment between thunder and lightening."  My uncle picked up his umbrella and now had the door open, the sun shining down onto him and his raincoat, he was saying something. "Chloe as you know I used to be a comedian," I hang the picture back onto the wall, "yes and no one laughed at your jokes so you came here to live with us Uncle Mel," "exactly, no one knows what is funny anymore, think how exciting would it be if a comedian discovered a universe?" "Who would find the humour in that?" Uncle Mel steps outside and shuts the door behind him shouting out, "your mother." I lock the door and go to sit back on the couch changing the channel to the WHEN network. Eventually my father comes on, "Welcome to the World Headquarters of Entertainment and News, with Reed Raimon and Inna Khan," the news goes on for a bit, a fire was put out last night, no one was hurt, some singer fell off the stage at a concert, blah blah blah, "Ok now we're going to Daniel Plaisley with the weather." This is it, his big moment, lights, camera, and action. "Thanks Inna, today it feels like 3 degrees Celsius and is pretty gloomy with an expected 5-8 mm of rain. That's it for now, will get back to the weekly forecast in a bit, oh and Chloe go to school." There it is, the order to march, so I stand up click off the TV and march right up to my room, hop into bed and gaze out my window as the grey clouds begin forming over the city, almost as if they were gliding through the sky casting their shadow over the city, taking control of it, and blocking out it's only hero, blocking out the sun. As the rain starts to fall, I get under my covers.  A flash of lightening flicks through the world for a brief second then comes the thunder. I wait for the next lightening bolt hoping to hear my mother.

The miracle of falling into the nothingness surrounding me quickly loses allure. The depth of darkness around is unknown, but the depth of my own darkness is boundless. I feel the air brush past me as I continue my plunge into, through, the night. It's cold and I cannot help but wrap my arms around my body for warmth. I open my eyes to see my breath and watch it quickly vanish from before my face. I turn my head to the side to see. Surprisingly a dull shadow is coming up upon me, quickly opening its jaws to swallow me whole. I turn back to face the darkness spread out above me, viewing my life for one last time. The shadow cast itself onto me, piercing my mind with a blinding light that contrasted against the night. I let out a scream as the further I became enwrapped into the shadow. The light shone brighter and brighter in my head and all around me, until all light seemed to glisten with a pure white tinge. Then suddenly as the light was shining at its peak, my brain felt as it split, leaving me torn and in the dark yet again. My cries of pain, confusion, anger, did not echo back as I found myself lost to a shadow of light. No longer falling away into nothingness, but caught in something else.

 

 

"Try again, and this time do it better!"

 

 

 

The darkness slowly seeps its way past my only barrier of protection, my skin. The pain is strong, unending, the feeling I hope is the last I ever had, as the night, could this be night attacking me? The night is patiently waiting for me to die. It pours into me burning my flesh but only to the point that the darkness can reshape it by prodding and cutting away what is unneeded. I shoot up, sweat running down my face and body, drenching my clothes. I reach out grasping my arm, chest, face, reassuring that indeed my dream has not yet become my destiny, but how much longer? Worse still is that the day will never come and I am to live here, in my place with true nightmares. The sweat drenched clothes make me feel uncomfortable so I rip them from my body as the smell of my vomit and sweat mix with my fear cause me to run off in any direction unsure of where I'm going and whether or not I am actually the one in charge of where I am going until I can no longer smell anything. The sound of my feet echoed off into the distance returning at impossible and inconsistent times. Which proves that all hope is, is a confusing, desperate concept seen in random occurrences, such as the echo of footprints...probable cause for insanity. I sit to catch my breath, and think. There are no doors, this is no house, there is no light, this is no heaven, there is air, this is not death, there is me, there is no me, there is love, there is no love. Lost. I think I'm lost. But lost from what, where was it I came from was there ever another place for me but this? Should I be able to remember? I get back to my feet and move without caution or care, thinking...always thinking. How is it I can know of myself, of love, of being lost, and of hope if I had not learnt there from any other place but this? The ground shifts under my feet, I keep walking. One of my feet steps down onto nothing and I lose balance, stumbling, falling into or within or with the dark of night, and I'm sure it is night, moving spontaneously around me forever. I close my eyes, looking into my night, my darkness, seeing only one question. Is hope something that is learnt?

I awake. All around me is not but blackness, dull lights shine in the distance, or are they a lesser shadow within this infinite space I find myself waking up to? I stand, yet feel as I always do, as if I am being pushed up to my feet independent of my bodies desires to sit, stand, squat, jump, dance, or any other movement. The air in this place, which must be my place as I have never known anyone to ever be here although I am not sure how long I have even been here, or if even "here" is an actual place to be, is thin and light, and easy breathe by now. With the morning, or what I am positive must be morning, routine over and done with, I turn my attention solely onto the dull lights. I stare down the unwavering, unblemished lights refusing to blink, letting the tears stream down my face until I can no longer hold back the urge to shut and rub my eyes. Closing my eyes I am enveloped into a complete darkness with no chance of light peering through, to my relief and horror, as this new sensation of dark is mine and mine alone. I've learnt nothing by gazing into the shadows that remain as what must be silhouettes of statues upon the utter lightless void. I move or the darkness shifts, I'm not sure, however I become further from the dull light though I took a step forward. I try again, only to be removed from sight of any difference within the darkness of this place. This time I fall onto my knees, my hands touching, feeling the unnatural warmth of what must be the ground though it is too dark to distinguish anything at this point, I slowly inch forward and can feel the floor, ground, whatever dragging beneath my hands, as if I am being dragged into the heart of this desolate place, taken to the core of unverifiable hell. Once the movement stops I throw up, though I have no memory of when I last ate. The bitter taste brings a weak smile as I pass out.

    With the last few steps in sight, I felt my heart pulsating in my ear. The unexpected excitement made my body shake. The thrill of reaching the last steps, of what appeared to be a never ending staircase, subconsciously forced my pace to increase. Now the logic I was using was probably faulty, as I broke out into a sprint, like a bat out of hell. The dull walls were whizzing by me, as I looked down at my feet. Maybe it was the blue moon, or an accidental slip of concentration, where ever the blame lies. I began to trip.

    It seemed I was free falling for all of eternity, which didn’t bother me in the least bit. For the impending doom that was below me, an inevitable fate, far worse than the one I was suffering. My arms wailed around in the air, it became clear to me what was going to happen and I prepared myself for the contact. The mere seconds I spent falling were over as my head smashed against the of the ice steps. A fierce pain ran through my head, and everything began to fade in and out of focus, when I heard it. 

    My apartment or wherever I now was echoed with the wailing of that unknown beast. Please God don’t let that be the last sound I hear, I thought to myself, as I sunk further into the darkness that was clouding my mind.

"Fuck today, it's tommorow" - Freddie Mercury

With a flick of a switch, the light quickly changed to complete darkness. I made the final strech towards my bed. Hoping to make it without hitting the floor, I toppled over landing safely onto the mattress. As the spring loaded, softness took it's affect on me, I began to slip between the real world and that of dreams. Just as the walls started to fade into the surrounding darkness, I heard a loud screeching and my eyes opened. Standing up  I shook off the sleep that clung to my body. I flicked on the lights and let my eyes adjust to the brightness. Once all was fine and well, I headed towards my door and put my hand on the rather cold doorknob. I felt a shiver run down my back as I opened the door, when I stepped into the hallway, I noticed that it was getting colder and colder with every step I took. Eventually I turned around and went back to my room. I grabbed the robe hanging from my door and threw it over my half naked body. I quickly managed to make my back out into the hallway stopping at the stairs. Standing before them I watched as they shifted into a spiral staircase. With my first steps heading down the stairs, into the living room, the railing and stairs quickly froze to ice. I was Continuing my venture down the stairs, when the screeching sound echoed through the house, again. As the sound hit my ears, the pictures hung on the wall began to melt away. Red, and gold ink blots ran down the wall in many designs. With the colours now running under my feet as I walked down the stairs, they seemed to spell something. What was that, Ron?