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Rated: GC · Short Story · Psychology · #858780
Unfinished story that leaves off at a bad place for a first time reader, sorry.
The Darkness That Shined - (unfinished)
10/8/03

Sitting on the cold damp floor, I thought about all the things I did today and how unimportant they were. I got up one hour after I was supposed to be at work, came into work two hours late, sat at work and did absolutely nothing, came home from work, thought about how much I hated work, and then sat on the floor and began to think of all the unimportant things I did today. Afterwards, while standing up, I reminded myself that I was always going to hate work, and that it would just make it that much more tough to dwell upon it. Too bad that this is basically what I do every single day of my life.

I lightly brushed my hand across the wall as I slowly made numerous little steps forward. My apartment never gets any light. It is perfectly positioned so that the twenty-four story office building, which stands right outside of my only window, blocks all sunlight that would be coming through. I didn’t even have enough money to buy an apartment until I found this one with no electricity. I didn’t even know they still had places with no electricity, regardless of the whole paying your bill issue. Basically, my apartment is always pitch black. However, there is one exception to this crazy fact. At a certain time of day, I believe it is around 4:30pm, the sun moves in a certain way so that a single bean of light shoots through into my lonely window. It rests itself upon the middle of my floor. It is probably a few feet in circumference, and it provides just enough light for me to read the newspaper for about six or seven minutes. The light disappears back into the darkness just after this. If it wasn’t for those six or seven minutes, I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what was going on in the world.

Thank God! I finally finished a long days worth of work. It’s Friday, and I am going to go home and do absolutely nothing. I get out of work at around 4:00pm, and make it home just before “beam time.” This is an expression I use for those six or seven minutes of heaven, heaven for me at least. Remembering the exact spot, I pulled up my rickety wooden chair, grabbed my newspaper, sat, and waited. A few minutes later, I could almost hear the sun crawling through the tiny alleyway and into my window. The light enveloped me. Knowing I had little time, I began reading in an instant. A little annoyed after finding nothing quite interesting, I stood from my chair as the light began to fade, and sat upon the floor. I thought to myself about the things I had done that day, and how unimportant they were.

I walked down the barren sidewalk through a children’s playground. Everyday I took this root to by my newspaper after work just before “beam time.” Little children would always run up to me, give my shins a quick kick, and then run back to their swing sets, or monkey bars, or whatever the hell little children do these days. God, do I love children. I used to have a son once when I was married. Looking at my life now, I can’t believe that I was ever married. I learned to forget my son’s name over the years. I lost him in a supermarket once and never saw him again. I was too scared to go home to my wife and tell her, so I ran away to New York City. Who knows, maybe he’s home with her now, wondering when I’ll be back, or maybe he was kidnapped. Maybe he’s still lost in the grocery store, wandering up and down the frozen food section, still turning every now and then to ask me for my jacket, and only finding air. All I know is that I will probably never see him, or my wife, ever again.

I retrieved my paper and began the journey home. As I walked along the busy sidewalk, I bumped into a young woman in a quite ugly lavender dress with a flower in her hair. I think it was a daisy. She would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for the fact that I grabbed her arm so quickly. By the time I brought her properly back to her feet I had decided I would call her “Lavender” because of that ugly dress she was wearing. She told me her real name, but I chose not to remember it. She said she wasn’t busy and that she’d love to have a cup of coffee with me at her favorite café around the corner. After agreeing, she linked her arm to mine and we frolicked around the bend. It felt quite awkward at first, but then as the sweat from her burning skin seemed to flow into the pores on my arm it didn’t seem so bad anymore. We sat at the circular metal table. The sun’s light bounced off its glossy surface straight into my eye. I did not complain because she would think I was weird. I never thought about how she started the conversation that day because I was too busy positioning my head.
“-so what time is good for you?” she insisted.
“What was that?”
“I said what time is good for you?” she repeated viscously.
“For what?” I inquired.
“For me to stop by silly. God am I that repulsive to you.”
She followed the prior remark with a giggle more hideous than that fucking dress she was wearing. I just wanted to pick up the cancer-inducing diet coke she was drinking and throw it at her chest. Then I would start rubbing in the fluid causing an irreversible stain. She would probably then sue me for sexual harassment, considering how in that was.
“Sorry,” I replied, “I guess the electric pulses traveling to my ears got lost and ended up in my ass because I couldn’t hear a word you just said.”
“You know what,” she stared at me for a moment, “You’re really weird.”
“Sorry, I get that a lot though.”
I said this without fear. She gave me another glance and than tried to respond. Whatever words were about to be spilled were replaced by a large burst of air.
“Ew,” I uttered as the steamy jet of intoxicating gases penetrated my nostrils.
“What was that,” she said, focusing her eyes in on me tightly as to try and completely understand the meaning, thought, and nature behind my unheard comment.
“Nothing,” I replied.
“Well, as I was saying,” she continued on, “I think you’re kinda funny. Do you mind if I stop by tomorrow?”
“Um,” I hesitated, “Why don’t we go to your place.”
“Nah, I don’t really feel like cleaning. I’m sure your place is spotless,” she said with confidence.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, I don’t know. You just seemed like one of those OCD kinda guys.”
“Um, thanks.”
God must have been listening to me at that moment, because right then she stood up and placed a card on the table.
“I gotta go,” she uttered, “Call me about tomorrow.”
“Ok, bye.”
With that, I ended the meeting. I slipped the paper she gave me into my pocket and stood to leave. She turned around and gave me a gentle wave. Everything was ok until she smiled. Her upper lip seemed to be trying to release from its foundation and escape up into her knows. Her pearly white teeth angered me. No teeth were naturally that white. Something was wrong with this woman, I could tell. She turned around and continued to walk further and further away. Her putrid lavender dress stretched back and forth across her body as she swung her hips miles to each side. I could have sworn I saw her knocking people out of the way with them. She looked at her watch, then the traffic light, then me. With a quick twitch of her neck she was facing forward again and walking across the street. She turned the corner and left the horrid portrait of New York life lain out in front of me. Her exclusion from the picture made things seem a little more boring; however, she was gone, and so was her dress. Thank god I wouldn’t have to talk to her until tomorrow. Or at least I thought so.
When I walked into my apartment that night I realized that for the first time I had missed “beam time.” I didn’t think too much about it. Another one would come tomorrow regardless. I reached along the side of the wall until reaching a spot I thought to be acceptable. I slid down the side and relived my day. I was just about to see that nasty smile again when my phone rang.


***************


It’s been three months now and the smell is becoming unbearable. I think the stench is escaping through the hole I put in her head. That’s where the majority of the rats usually head to. There is no better way to get the sweet juice than a hole in a melon. I think my stock went up three points today. I’m rich.



***************


Lavender dresses fill my dreams. My name is irrelevant.


***************


Isn’t it interesting how moss grows on the south side of the tree?


***************


There is no suffering, only consequence. Sometimes there aren’t any of those either.


***************


Four years later…


***************


I took in the fresh summer breeze and let it spill out of my ears. I was a new man. The things that I had been through had just recently taken a big effect on my daily life. I was a new man. Roses frame the new balcony of my new apartment on the Upper East Side. Fifteen rooms, empty rooms, fit neatly together to create the construct of my home. I like the kitchen the most because it has a table made of glossy marble. When I sit to eat I can see another me eating the exact same meal. I had a mirror installed just above the table. Now when I either look up or down I can see thousands of me. It gives me a sense of company when I get to eat with them. They’re the only friends I have. Nobody trusts me anymore. They shouldn’t though, so I don’t blame them.




© Copyright 2004 Eyepatch (juddgaff77 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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