He turned around and looked into the eyes of his best friend, or what appeared to be his best friend. Because, you see, his best friend was dead. Had been dead for several years. He looked exactly like him, Paul thought. He had the exact appearance: small eyes, thin blond hair, thin frame, long nose with large nostrils and patchy skin. Even his clothes, from what Paul could ascertain, were similar in style.
So who was he? Could he be the same person, somehow resurrected from the beyond? He’d read about things like this, but never in his wildest imagination could he believe that someone could comeback. Had Harry comeback.
They both stood motionless in front of a local video store, neither moved, their eyes still fixed on each other. Paul was carrying his video back from the night before, some horror film, his favourite genre, that he had rented the day before. The other just stood there. It was 9.00pm.
"Who are you?" Paul blurted out. He was fidgeting with his coat, trying to calm himself down.
"I'm whoever you want me to be. I could be a dream, I could be a nightmare, I could even be your mother. But I’m nothing more than myself."
"I meant what's your name?" Paul said, looking into the others eyes.
"I'll tell you if you follow me."
"Follow you where?"
"Over there." The other pointed to a nearby chair in the front of the video store. "Just over there." He walked away, with an upbeat walk, resembling John Travolta from Saturday Night Fever.
Paul was somewhat surprised. Should he follow? Why not he told himself. What could I lose anyway? Either it’s him our it isn't, he thought.
He followed.
Sitting down, Paul decided to push on with his questions.
"Your name?" Paul said, still a little nervous.
"My name is Harry."
Paul went pale, he felt cold inside, a trembling emotion was edging to the surface. He wanted to vomit. Could it be a coincidence? It has to be. Did Harry have a twin? Possible? So why the fuck didn't he grow up with him?
"Does that surprise you." said the other. "You looked surprised when I said my name, almost frightened."
"What?" Paul said, startled.
"Surprised."
The other reached inside his pocket and took out a packet of cigarettes. Paul was still thinking about his answer.
"No, not really."
"Smoke?" The other said, reaching out toward Paul.
Should I take anything from this guy? Paul thought. It's only a smoke you idiot. "Yeah why not." He took one and put it to his lips, the other reached over and lit it. The other put the packet way. Strangely there was no smoke in either his mouth or hand. I wonder why? Paul thought.
He inhaled deeply and let the nicotine take its effect upon him. He still didn't feel anymore relaxed. Oh well, he thought.
Why am I still thinking of him as the other? He has a name now you idiot - HARRY - He isn’t Harry! I know he isn't Harry, not the Harry I know. It can't be Harry, he's the other, another Harry. He'll always be the other. Just tell him. No. Yes. No.
"You look like someone I used to know. Someone I went to school with, a friend of mine who died." What the fuck, Paul thought. Why did I say that?
"And his name was Harry?"
"Yes." Paul said, again drawing back on his smoke.
"Well I can assure you I'm not your dead friend." The other said all a little to reassuringly for Paul.
Now why would he say that? Paul thought.
He threw his smoke onto the ground leaving it there to distinguish itself on the nearby concrete. It was a cool night, no wind, it'd go out, Paul thought.
"Well that's bloody obvious isn't? I mean how could you be dead and yet living at the same time. You look so much like him that's all."
"Maybe I am him, who the hell knows anyway? I don't think anybody really knows who the hell they are anyhow. Right?
"Except you're here, and he's dead."
Paul pictured times gone by with the real Harry, fun times, times he would always remember as some of the best in his life.
"Which school did you go to?"
"A school in the country, far from here, buts that's irrelevant. How old are you?"
"Twenty One." Stop telling him everything about yourself, you idiot, Paul thought. But he couldn’t, he was compelled to talk about Harry. "I was 14 when Harry died. He died in an accident when his father and him were out fishing, they never found his body. I guess it just washed away."
"You don't say." The other said. "Just washed away?"
"Yeah."
"And now you think I'm him, back from the dead, or where ever."
"Not really."
"But you're not sure?"
"I'm not sure about a lot of things and this is just one of them." Paul said still feeling uneasy, but more relaxed than earlier.
"Does it matter who I am? I mean if you think that I'm your Harry, then I'll be Harry, for tonight anyway. Just let your memories of him flow back." The other said. "That makes no sense at all you know. I know you're not Harry and pretending will not change that." Why was he going on with this Paul thought.
Paul wanted to leave but he couldn't, he felt a connection to this guy even if he wasn’t Harry back from the dead. Whoever he was, Paul wanted to stay, just to make sure he wasn't Harry. "It might. Was he such a great friend that you want him back so desperately." The other said shifting slowly along the chair.
Paul only now realised that there was no one else around, no one entering the video store, and no one leaving. Strange, he thought, were the video store still even open.
He still felt uneasy, uneasy about the whole night. He'd only come to drop of some videos and he ends up meeting a guy who looks like his best friend, only he's dead. Not only that, but he is talking to him as well.
"We all want what we can't have I suppose."
"Right." "You know, I better get going man, drop these in the box and head on home, it's been great meeting you, but you know?"
"Yeah whatever. You see me and you think that I’m your dead best friend, and now you wanna leave, was I that boring?" The other said agitated.
"Hey man, I didn’t mean anything by it, you just looked like someone I knew, that's all. There’s no need to get excited."
Paul moved further away from the other, slowly, so he wouldn't be noticed.
"What if I told you I was Harry?"
"I wouldn't believe you."
He didn't truly believe what he was saying, but he said it anyway. Things like this just don't happen he told himself.
"I am Harry!"
"I don't believe you." Paul said, shaking his head.
"Really Paul."
"Really."
Paul pictured himself earlier with this guy, had he told him his name, he didn't think so, but couldn’t quite remember. Then how, Paul thought, did this guy know his name? Was it Harry? No? Yes? How?
The other quickly got up and stood in front of Paul. Paul remained seated, unsure of what to do.
"You know who I am, you always knew, from the first time you saw me tonight. And you also know how I died."
"I know. Didn't I mention that before; anyway you're not Harry."
"Denying it wont help you Paul. Do you think I'll just go away, vanish again like I did all those years ago? What happens now.? Well, who knows? I doubt that I could just let you go though. I mean this pretty much changes everything, don't you think?"
"I think you're insane!" Paul said standing up. "Completely fucking insane!" He moved away from the other, but the other followed. "Look, I'm leaving, I don't care where you go, but I'm outa here man." Paul turned his back on the other and walked away.
The other reached into his coat, and felt around its warm insides, delving, searching and finding. He pulled out his hand and held a knife. He followed Paul.
"Oh Paullllll, maybe you should turn around, you know it's probably better if you do, you know, face up to the sins of the past."
Paul turned around and saw the knife and panicked. He ran, tripped and fell on his front. The end was near.
The other mounted him from behind and sat upon him.
Where the hell was everyone, Paul thought.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Ah, I don't know, you tell me?"
"Because you hate me, because you blame me for something?"
"Maybe or maybe I just like hunting people. You think that I drowned Paul, well guess again. You think that my father couldn't save me?
"How the fuck should I know?" Paul said struggling.
"The drowning was a story Paul, a story concocted so my parents, and god bless their souls, could get rid of me from their minds. They wanted to forget about me, so they said I died. You know, the real quick and easy way. But instead of drowning, I was committed to a mental institute.
"Really, is that all?"
"Your flippancy will get you nowhere."
"So you're going to kill me?" Paul said, still struggling inside.
"I'm not going to kill you! Or am I?" the other placed his knife down beside Paul. Paul was unaware of it. "I'm going to help you find god."
"I think I'd rather go to church."
"Bad luck, you're going to hell!"
"Then doesn't that defeat the purpose of finding God?"
"Just shut up."
The other picked up the knife and placed the point at the back of Paul’s neck. Paul tried to move, but he couldn’t, he was frozen.
"Why?" he asked
"Because I blame you, Mr. Goody, Mr. Do Right, Mr. Never Wrong. 'Can't you be more like Paul?' my mother used to say. Your goodness sent me into madness and now my madness is going to send you to whatever.
"That's all?"
"It's enough, isn't it? Goodbye Paul
. "Yeah whatever."
The other pushed the knife down into Paul's neck, it was like pushing a knife through an orange the other thought. This way of killing had become his favourite over the years. There was no blood and no sound. Paul’s body went limp.
The other got up, pulling the knife from Pau'’s neck. He looked down and admired his work, now there would be another for his dark god. His messiah. He turned and left.
The body moved, it stood, it followed, it found.
The other was startled, stunned. He turned back and faced it.
The body was different, it eyes were red, its teeth elongated, pointed. It has taken on a new appearance, a new height.
The other couldn’t move, he was frozen. The body spoke.
"Did you think you could kill me? Me! Me! he pointed to himself. "You fucking fool! You can’t kill what you are! Fool! Aaaaaahhhhhhh!"
As the body reached out his hand the other collapsed to his knees. The other took it and kissed it and loved it. His master was back.
She had thought of this moment so many times before, dreamt of it so many nights. She'd felt is was almost real, then. Then she thought she'd known exactly how she would feel when it happened. She knew it would happen, eventually. She knew it.
Yes, she knew it would happen, was sure of it. It was inevitable. She knew it, the fading grey sky above her knew it, the surrounding naked trees knew it, their forgotten leaves, laying dead on the ground knew it. And, of course, the voices in her head knew it. Oh, they knew it alright! It seemed that it was all they talked about lately....
voice 1 - "You'll do it, and soon, believe me."
voice 2 - Definitely, it's going to happen."
voice 3 - "Hope you're prepared."
1 - "Of course she's prepared!!! She was born for this!!! If she does ONE thing that matters in her miserable little life, THIS will be it!!"
2 - "You'll love it!!"
1 - "There's nothing like it."
3 - "That's for sure."
1 - "You thought drugs were good?! Forget it! SEX? Sex is a visit to the library compared to this!!"
3 - "You will LOVE it."
2 - "And you WILL do it."
1 - "We KNOW."
Yes, they knew, she knew, maybe everybody knew. HE knew. HE had known for quite a while. He told her he knew. She wished he hadn't. It was a stupid thing to do. To tell someone you know. It's just stupid - UNIVERSALLY stupid. To actually tell her that he knew. He knew what her destiny was. What was she supposed to do? What she HAD to do. What she was BORN to do. It was a very, very stupid thing for him to say. She couldn't understand why he had even told her! She'd NEVER understand. She knew one thing, though. She knew that if she had known something like that, she sure as hell would have kept her mouth shut. Why didn't he keep his mouth shut?! She couldn't understand it. It was upsetting her. The sinking feeling that had overcome her that day, when he told her. He tried to joke about it, but she knew he was serious and that HURT. Nothing was the same from then on. She know, then, that nothing could be the same. She knew NOW that nothing would ever be the same again.
"Why did you have to say anything? You knew it would hurt me!!" She looked down at him lying in the grass with his back to her. "Why did you do it? Why?!" But he wouldn't answer her.
3 - "He'll never say."
The voices started.
2 - "When you say something like that, make that kind of revelation about somebody, it's just best to pretend it never happened."
1 - "Yeah, keep your mouth shut and hope no-one ever brings it up again."
2 - "Look, we know it hurt you OK? but you should just forget him. He was a stupid ass-hole anyway."
1 - "A stupid ass-hole who doesn't know when to keep his dumb-ass mouth shut!"
She watched him as he lay, unmoving. She ached for him to turn and face her. To tell her he hadn't said it, everything was fine. He wouldn't turn though, and she knew that. They had fought, and when they fought, he always took refuge inside himself. sometimes it took days for him to speak to her again. One time, she remembered, it was over a week before he would open his mouth to converse with her.
"This was a big one." she thought, "This was a REAL big one."
2 - "Fight of the fucking century!"
3 - "You'll be lucky if he ever speaks to you again!"
1 - "Definitely. Some of the things you said!!! If I were him I would've slapped you around a bit, knocked you to the ground, and peed on you while you laid there crying, begging for my forgiveness."
"He wouldn't do that! Gordy would never dream of hurting me!!" she screamed internally.
1 - "Oh yeah? Didn't it hurt when he said those things? It did, didn't it?!! That hurt a lot more than any slap could. Which would you have preferred huh?"
"Fuck off!! I'm sick of talking to you!! You make me crazy!"
1 - That's fucking lovely, that is. Just fucking lovely!! Crazy?! WE make YOU crazy??!!?!?"
"Yes!! Yes!! People aren't supposed to hear voices, it means they're crazy. And I'm not crazy so FUCK OFF!!!!!"
3 - "I'm sorry dear, but by that definition you are."
"FUCK OFF!!!!!"
1 - "You're crazy honey. Stone cold CRAZY!! Crazy as a loon!! A fucking NUTCASE!! Certifiably INSANE!! DERANGED!! MENTAL!!!! Delusional!! Suffering a CALENTURE of the BRAIN!!!! NON COMPOS MENTIS!!!..... "
"STOP IT!!! I'm not nuts, you fucking ass-hole, so stop saying that!!!"
1 - "......Craziest bitch I ever knew!!!!"
"I swear, if you keep it up I'll ram a screwdriver through my fucking head and you'll never say another thing again!! I'm not fucking CRAZY!!!"
2 - "No, you're not. That whole 'voices in your head making you nuts' is bullshit. EVERYBODY hears voices! It's the fucking psychologists and psychiatrists that have made everyone think that! It keeps them in business! Now no-one's game to admit it when they hear voices. It's one of the world's great injustices."
1 - "It's a fucking shame, that's for sure."
She sat quietly, staring sadly at the back of Gordy's head. She surveyed his long, muscular body. He was quite a guy, Gordy. Any woman would die to be with him, but he didn't want 'any woman', he wanted her. He wanted Anna. "My Annabelle", he would call her. She had always hated it when anyone called her 'Annabelle', it grated her spine. But when Gordy said it, it was like the finest sound she could imagine. It flowed from his lips like honey from a spoon. But he wouldn't be saying it now. Not after that fight.
She looked around, remembering how it had been when the fight began. They had been going to visit his parents inter-state. Driving through the most beautiful scenery she had ever seen. She begged Gordy to pull over, so they could spend just an hour alone together before they met with his family. But he wouldn't, he wanted to surprise them, and to do that they had to get there before lunch. Then, they had gotten a flat tyre. Anna had thought it was a sign from God, an omen! They were supposed to spend some time there alone, it was meant to be. Gordy didn't think so, he started straight in fixing the tyre.
Anna sadly perused her environment\; rolling hills, green fields, it was truly heaven on earth. She longed to lay with Gordy in the luscious, soft grass. If only he'd stop fixing that God-damned fucking tyre!!!! She decided to take charge of the situation, she grabbed the tyre-iron from his hands and heaved it, as far as she could, into the field. Smiling, she remembered how Gordy had looked at her, bemused. His eyes smiled at her as he walked into the field.
She followed him, making sure to stay a few feet behind. He bent and picked up the tyre-iron, turning to face her. He smiled waiting for her to reach the spot where he stood. She stopped an arm's length from him smiling back. He dropped the tyre-iron, reaching for her. It seemed he was no longer in such a hurry.
They had fallen to the ground then, bound together by a passion so strong, when they finally emerged from their private world to the reality that awaited, the sun had moved a considerable amount across the sky. They had certainly missed the opportunity to surprise his family, so they relaxed and enjoyed their surroundings. They had been talking for some time when the fight began.
She didn't want to think of it. She wanted to see Gordy's face, to look into his eyes, to tell him she's sorry.
"Gordy?" she touched his shoulder, "Gordy?" He wouldn't move. She held his shoulder firmly and rolled him back towards her. He lay staring blankly up at her. His face was partially shadowed in the twilight sun. His left eye looked sunken, droopy, blending with his head. His hair stuck up on strange angles, she brushed it with her hand and felt a sticky dampness.
Flashes of their argument seeped into her memory, permeating the walls she had used to keep it out.
*
Gordy. Happy. Looking off to the trees, "You know, sometimes Annabelle, I think it would be so easy for you to kill someone. You get this look in your eye, and I think 'I wouldn't be surprised if she killed someone, someday.' "
*
Anna. heart. pain. sadness.
*
shouting. loud. argument. vicious. words. 'how could he say that?!'
*
"Anna, I'm sorry, I was only kidding."
*
kidding!! that's not something you kid about!
*
loud. yelling. words. slicing. wrenching. pain.
*
"Anna, what's wrong with you?!"
*
"Wrong with ME??!!! There's nothing wrong with me!! You're the one calling me a murderer!"
*
"It was a joke!"
*
"It wasn't funny!"
*
"Just calm down! You're acting crazy!!"
*
"I'M NOT CRAZY!!!!!!!"
*
1 - "Kill him Anna, you have to."
3 - "You have no choice Anna, he KNOWS!"
2 - "Do it!"
1 - "Do it!"
3 - "Do it!"
*
grass. tyre-iron. reaching.
*
raising. above head
*
"Anna, what the hell are you doing?!"
*
raised. high. ready to strike.
*
"Anna! It was a JOKE!! Annabelle, honey, it was a fucking JOKE!!"
*
"IT....."
*
striking
*
"..... WASN'T..."
*
bashing
*
"...FUCKING..."
*
soft
*
"....FUNNY!!!!"
*
blood
*
red
*
wet
*
face
*
warm
*
blood
*
hands
*
blood
*
grass
*
blood
*
tyre-iron
*
blood
*
Gordy
*
dead
*
staring
*
blood
*
1 - "We told you, you'd do it didn't we?"
"Yes. Yes you did."
2 - "It wasn't hard at all was it?"
"No, not really."
1 - "You were born to kill, Anna. It's what you were made to do."
"He's looking at me. Why is he looking at me. He's dead, how can he keep looking at me when he's dead?'
3 - "He's not there anymore, it's just his body."
"Why does he keep staring at me!?"
1 - "Turn him over, then he won't look at you anymore."
"Turn him over? Yes, turn him over, I'll do that."
She had held his shoulder then, just as she held it now, only then, she had rolled him the other way, and now, the blood was no longer warm. He was cold, damp, sticky. She was sad. Why did it have to be Gordy? Why Gordy? She wanted Gordy back. She loved Gordy.
- "Sometimes we hurt the one's we love."
"Why?
- "Who knows why we do anything, we just do."
"Wait a minute," she thought, "that voice. That voice is new. It's new, but it's familiar. I know that voice."
- "Of course you know my voice, you've known me for ages."
"Gordy?"
- "My Annabelle, I missed you."
"Gordy?!"
- "Yes honey."
"It's really you!!"
G - "Really me."
"But you're dead!"
G - "I know, weird huh?!"
"How can I hear you? You're dead!!"
G - "I know I'm dead hon' how else would I get inside your head?! Your 'friends' here are cool, I like them, you should have told me about them ages ago!"
"I don't understand."
G - "There's nothing TO understand. I'm here, I like it. It's cozy."
"Cozy?"
G - "Yeah, it's like a party in here!"
"In my head? A party in my head?!"
G - "Yeah."
"But you're just voices, voices inside my head!"
1 - "Hey! Just 'coz we don't have bodies and we happen to live inside your cranium, doesn't mean we don't have fun! Now cut it out, you'll bum-out the new guy."
"I'm sorry Gordy. I didn't mean to kill you."
G - "Forget about it, this could be very interesting."
"But I KILLED you!"
1 - "Hey, I hate to break up your little get-together, but as you just mentioned, you KILLED a guy! Don't you think you've spent enough time hanging around the scene of the crime? Shouldn't you get your ass into gear and get us the FUCK OUT IF HERE!!!!!?????!!!!!!"
"Shit. Sure. OK. Sorry. What would I do without you guys huh?"
2 - "Who knows?"
1 - "Who the fuck cares?!! Let's get moving!!"
She looked around, straining to see her surroundings in the darkness. "Which way?"
1 - "South."
2 - "East."
3 - "West."
G - "North"
"Which way's which?"
1 - "How the fuck should we know!!!!"
"How 'bout that way?" she pointed in the direction of the hills.
1 - "Sounds good to us."
G - "Let's go hon'."
She stood and walked towards the hills, leaving behind everything she owned and everything she hated. She had everything she ever needed. Freedom. Just her and her friends.
By the time the police caught up with her she was riding a donkey up the fast lane of the freeway on her way to Mexico.
Bovine waste control
It reeks of self interest
why anyone would want to step in the cow shit
it is beyond me
I walk
like one stricken by a bear
The system sucks
Drink some beer
Who walks the fields alone
insanity it is the only defense
clean up the shit
So I was running as fast as I could through the open empty graveyard, over theft concrete markers that barely made reference to the bed flow feet. They were coming of me, coyer fifes from tee vouchers outlining the parameters, swift feedlot of children not quire children and not quire gunman. Got it. Got you. This is the movie where of kids fog tout to the cemetery to play loud music and drink beer and deer things wake up and chase after the.
I am not a teenage and I am not drunk. These things chains me are not dead. Somehow I feel asleep patina over a dead lay's frame and woke up to see leather boys counting own Die and Seek and I not "it." Sanctuary is the city marker, they said. And I ran.
Me civilization rots. 1819, 2898. Old moved from the serene Catholic graveyard ogre the ways to vet packed ere, convicts and adulteress, housed only adder dearth it be so. Some of the voids were moved here never one gunner after fathom, move from peace at the unexpected discovery of an effort descendant, a slew of discharged chamber maids pieces of wishing that revealed a. We are not exempt. Local favorites were fugue in pieces, arms and legs an chilled ripped from the earth and despoiled into music. Smaller boxes required bravely three fir under in plots out by hour square. Toby. Mark Ghonathon. Names flash beneath meek feet as I towards the city light, to the fate leaning adder at the end of try track.
And's they're off! Metal bit dandle off the ankles of their right leather boots an clink against flat stones. Tier breath chimes bin ear labored wheezing begird me, breathing like they donor know fowl band don't relate care, I was a sprinter once, long ago. There is a trapped inside my body., healed back by layers of middle-aged day and pupae soaking line, I want to tell you about the story of the woman I came here to see, but I haven't oft the tune. Perhaps be buried here beside her, when the trine comes.
I of the lip of freeze bad catch myself with one hands the forged. Someone is laughing at me, I can't tell if it's coming from behind me or beneath the ground This is story of man and woman very much in love. I've seen of toe cab arms cradling the voids create demur the found, the arms and leafs of one man over the sides as if he was raking nap in. how the rest of the world seems to grow older and wiser and more tolerant of each other, while we are exactly same as we were five years ago, an old people with votes to play with. Bombs of off inter in station. Metal detectors screams alive in grocery stows and airports, alive. The boys behind me are as arch as uteri. I think I've been posting me prayers to the wrong God.
Once upon a time there was a little white freshwater fish called Albert who swam and swam and swam, all day long. Then one day he came across a particularly interesting rock and was so startled that he leapt out of the water and landed upon the bank of the river. Since his breathing systems were designed for use in water and not in air, he began to asphyxiate and thrashed around in the vain hope of propelling himself back into his natural medium. As dark spots began to float before his eyes, he heard a voice saying, "No, Albert, you have work still to do in this world," and at that moment his tail found purchase on a large stone and he was catapulted back into the water. From that day forth Albert was a changed fish, and wherever he went the word of the Great Fish God was spread.
Unfortunately, nobody noticed, because most fish are stark raving mad anyway.
The cult of the Great Fish God, called Ricky, grew into an all-encompassing religion within the space of three years, and every freshwater fish danced to its tune. It expanded seaward, and in a decade every water-dwelling creature on the planet was controlled by Albert and his seven disciples. Suddenly, disaster struck! Albert, or High Priest Albert of Ricky as he was now known, had been granted a long life by Ricky for his good works, or so he claimed, until one day he swam unwittingly into a net and was hauled out of the water that gave him life, and departed from this world. When the foremost of the disciples, Bill, heard of this he was enraged, and swore that he would not rest until Albert's death was avenged.
Mankind didn't stand a chance.
Luckily, however, just as the great sea armies were mobilising, the seven ruling disciples of Albert, son of Ricky, were distracted by a rather nice pattern of scum floating on the surface of the river where it joined the sea, which caused a temporary lapse in their charismatic hold over the minds of their subjects. The dolphins then realised that the existence of Ricky was a philosophically absurd concept. Their next revelation was that they were also quite peckish, and so they ate Bill and his six friends. The Cult of Ricky was dead.