I see eyes all the time. Not really mine all that much, but I see the eyes of Sonic, dead, two shining lumps of green coal, and they stare at me from the window of my room, or sometimes from a mirror on the wall. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHH Also, I see a small flicker of movement, accompanied by the two pinpoints standing out in the darkness. Like - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I feel lips brush my eaSsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh eyes, and they’re watching me. And it doesn’t end there. Oh no. Of course not. They won’t let me off so easily. They have Amy crying from within the walls, and she’s in pain. Pleading, begging pain, just like I remember her, before she wasn’t able to speak anymore. Sometimes the house creaks, or the door cracks open and I can see the two lights with Amy screaming in the background, barely above a whisper. At night, at this time of year, the house gets really cold and the nights get really dark. This is the - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Her. time where I can hear them the most, because, well, to be honest, they like this time the best. It’s poetic irony, really, and if I wasn’t where I am, I’d think it was funny. I’d laugh. Honestly. But I don’t. Knuckles does all the laughing for me. That’s right. He’s here too. He started about two weeks ago, bellowing, laughing, scraping his sharp fists across my walls. Earlier on I’d wake up to find mere scratches, deep and scornful, like maybe a servant did it and didn’t tell me out of fear of getting fired. It was nothing to me, really. They would have had nothing to worry about. Then I’d get less and less sleep, from the eyes, the screaming, and the laughing. Soon, it got to be where I’d just cower in my covers, watching, listening. Praying. Even though I don’t deserve to. Anyway, like I said, when the daylight gradually, oh so very gradually, lifted the darkness, giant words would be scraped into the wallpaper, towing over me, right in my bedroom, where I didn‘t hear any - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Is that . . . ? servant come in and make them. Revealing. Dwarfing me. But, alas, I am getting ahead of myself. This, of course, all started about a month ago. My former girlfriend, former fiancé, former lover leaves the house in a very heated scuffle with me. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - what's . . .? I didn’t hit her, technically, but she had a giant bruise on the side of her face from when I pushed her into - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - That death is only mystery for me, and that the intention never worked, because I don’t know what’s . . . . the fireplace. Her head ramming into the stone in the back, it had knocked her dazed for the precious - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I finally think that I’m dead. second where I chose to lock her inside, the iron doors closing shut. Now, architects aren’t idiots anymore. They think nowadays, so every fireplace like mine, in every - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Something far away starts to pound, then scratch, and the figure comes closer still. A round ball of white light, and snobby, wealthy, rich piece of shit’s house, they’re equipped with a handle on the inside, in case a snot - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Closer. nosed brat accidentally locks himself inside and the parents are too busy playing golf or yodeling or - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Closer. whatever the fuck they’re doing, to hear him. If you’re even five feet away from the hearth then even the loudest shouts can barely be heard. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It’s coming into focus now, and I can feel it breathe. The handle opens the doors from the inside. No one should complain, and if they do, it’s cause for concern. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Closer So, to cover the handle problem, on my own, I take the fireplace poker from the very handy rack off - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Closer. to the side, and I shove it into the handles. My hands grip around the edges and I grit my teeth, bending as - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It looks so familiar, like a dream or something that I may have experienced. hard as I can, forming a loop around the two bars, the metal squeaking. Very encouraging. It’s around here, Elizabeth, my former everything, starts searching for the handle. And I could only - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It should be so comforting, this simple, but . . . . no, look, listen, please, I swear to you, I can see a shape coming closer. grin. My left hand covered in soot, my face a mask of pure enjoyment, I started to caress the iron doors - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - No direction, no substance. Somehow, so thick and suffocating. No need to breathe this time, though. as though they were her face. And I tell her, softly, so she probably couldn’t hear me over her own shouts - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Nothing. or the thick prison, “Shhh . . . Shhhh . . . . .” I think back to a time in my life where everything wasn’t this simple, this great, this . . . Fuck. Sonic, Knuckles, and Amy. They all still used to be here, alive and well, but back then, everyone - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Darkness. took them for granted. The type of ignorance that only lasts for so long. For say, the span of a lifetime, or a - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The lights go out. childhood, or even a decade. No one who ever met us thought that we’d die one day. No, no, no, we’d - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 'HA!' outlive everyone. We’d be here until even the planet decided to stop spinning and the sun to stop burning. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Then Knuckles laughs. They’d raise their children to respect us, as if we’d be holding their hands their entire lives. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - In the mirror I can’t see him. I can’t see anyone. I can only see me. My eyes. They look so . . . That’s how it would be for us. We’d get older. They’d get older. We’d start doing all of the - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I can’t move, and the big red blob moves right for me, eyes ablaze. His nose touches mine like the cold of winter. things that these people had done themselves, and they’d hate us for it. Ignorance kept them from hating - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Eyes. Sounds. Words. Knuckles walks towards me, shaking, shivering. WAKE UP!!! I can’t feel the water anymore. themselves. Our decline from fame could be felt, oh yes it could, and it hurt. “Jumping the shark,” if that term - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - out, followed by Amy’s face, in a tortured mask of terror. I saw them sometimes, more often than that, actually. can be carried over to our lives. We should have coined something like that . . . I would have to say that we aged rather gracefully, and started to step away from the spotlight, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Snap, they come open, and suddenly there’s Knuckles, standing by the door. He leaves it cracked open and these blue eyes peek doing good deeds less often. We were moving on, but then . . . then, something . . . happened . . . I’m sorry for this, actually, because I have nowhere to start. The condition I’m in, the - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - clothes and put the food on the toilet lid I feel right at home. My eyes close . . . . . . . . . NO! I FELL ASLEEP!! predicament, prevents me from thinking clearly. It seems I can talk about what I want to remember, and - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - flickering, but at least it’s small and it’s comforting. The white of it, for some reason, relaxes me, and when I take off my now, my first childhood memory is surfacing . . . Dad. Big, lovable, stupid Dad. My first memory, and also my first bad memory. It’s like having your first dream a nightmare, or - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Doesn’t sound that bad of an idea, actually. The bathroom is upstairs next to my bedroom, and the lights just scream dim your first sexual encounter a rape. Dad. With his shining white eyes. His hands always clenched in big, meaty fists. Those tight - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - without my books. Eh, reading makes me tired anyway. Gotta keep eating, gotta keep moving. Easy enough. Shower often. lips of his, showing no emotion. There is no mother. I don’t ever remember having one. Although, I do have a couple of - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - able to handle them. I’ve been awake for two days and I think I can handle a few more. As long as I keep busy, which will be hard theories as to where she went, I don’t mind telling you. Take a wild guess. Dad. With his body obscured by shadow, the shadow of the huge oak tree. Dad. With his booming, accusing voice. Dad. Father. He blamed me. I can tell the way I remember that look; I was so little that I must have - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Okay. Here is the plan. I face them. I let them try and come into the light, into my world, where I may be been so low to the floor or ground or wherever I was. The lights were so bright that he appeared like - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Also, these large scratches that look like fingernails draw these rectangular objects that look like trees. black paint, covered from head to toe. But his eyes . . . they still shined brightly. They hung with hatred, aimed right at me. He looked so angry. Whatever happened to Mom, only - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - That’s the only outcome. As I walk back up the stairs I see more words scrawled. ‘YOU KILLED ME.’ ‘THIS IS MY HOUSE.’ ‘COMING.’ COMING. Dad knows. And he’s . . . . . Well, anyway. Lost it again. This time, I’m with my girlfriend, my fiancé, my lover. Elizabeth. Pretty, pretty Elizabeth. Full of pep, full of attitude, full of shining teeth and golden blonde - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - where no one would find unless I told them. Fuck. On my own, this time. Admit it. Defeat unless they surrender. hair. She always smelled like oranges. She felt so soft at my fingertips, but that’s none of your fucking - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - After all, I am alone. Alone. The books is in the other part of the house. In the library, lost in the piles of books business. The point is, she was mine, and I loved her. I truly did. And I believe that she loved me as well. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ambient glow goes on. I finish the west part of the house and I give up on the rest, just locking the other doors. Throughout the dark times, she had stuck to me like industrial glue. Since we met, we’ve been in - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - light in the house, wondering why the fuck the spell isn’t working yet, if she indeed went through with it. Another each other’s sight. At least once a day, I made sure of it. Our relationship never got boring, or dull, or - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - this icy breath on the back of my neck, and I catch a glance from the window. Sundown. I panic, going completely nuts. I turn on every tedious, or awkward. I had made certain of that as well. The money never exhausted, always coming in, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - not looking, it’s a single word from the instructions. They‘re taunting me! I get up from the floor, still shivering, feeling there were dinners, there were zoos, there were cruises, there were resorts, there were second honeymoons - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - still be alive, so . . . she wanted me to have it. Oh . . No. The writing scrawled every whatever, every chance I’m and proposals and rings and candy and roses and candles and cards and stuffed toys and string quartets - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The one I had chosen to avoid, and she cast it. Of course, had that particular one really worked for her, she would and parties and dances and nights of raw passion. There were tears of joy, happiness, appreciation. There were family functions, special occasions, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - it ended. After two hours her struggle died down. I left upstairs to our bedroom to find the very last instructions opened. expeditions, pets, houses, apartments, mansions, beds, kitchens, the works. There was the first kiss, the - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - And just before she left, for good, I caught her concentrating over it, casting something. I grew furious. We fought, and soon, oral sex, the anal, the missionary, the lotus, there was upside down, from behind, in the tub, in chocolate. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - She expressed concern over what I was becoming. “What I am BECOMING, darling, is something better than you can ever hope to be.” Fuck right. Let the good times roll and never stop, for five long years. I cheated on her five times, she on me once, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - she was scared. She said she couldn’t look at my face anymore without growing deathly afraid. Something about my eyes. but we didn’t mind. We understood each other. Variety keeps it fresh. After the experience, we’re stronger than ever. We love each other even more. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - All that I had learned. I really trusted her. My former everything. She used me to get to the book. She lied to me, too, saying Both of our parents loved the other side. Our snobby, well-to-do friends loved us together. The sex was - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I did them a favor. Elizabeth was mine already too. But I tell ya, the worst mistake I ever made was showing her my secrets. amazing. The conversation admissible. Five long years. One year before the “jumping of the shark.” The peak, and she joined me. I saved her life and she - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - it. I used it to eliminate some and gain others. The team. Elizabeth. I say, they would have died anyway, without dignity. was after me from then on, the prospect of near-death being the perfect reason to enjoy her life, and the - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - pages were missing from the fight but the message was still clear. It’s how I stayed afloat all these years. And okay, I admit best way to do so was to break a shy, innocent little shit like me. No illusions, I know she came on because of the money, and the fame, and the curiosity. She - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Oh fuck yes I did! And he was right. It’s all about intentions. I can get whatever I want if I can just put my mind to it. Some and every other 14 year old girl had questions they wanted to know about me. Even though she was about - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - have done the same thing in my place! Mr. Jackson’s book was more than a gift, it was a blessing. Not a curse. I used it. four years older, I let her have me. Even that young I could recognize potential when I saw it. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Knuckles. The laughing. Sonic. The eyes. Amy. The crying. They do this because they blame me. Just like Dad. They would Elizabeth became my shadow, along every sideline game that starred me, Sonic, Amy, and - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - already I can tell who it is. I know what all of this is. And I can say it with confidence, too. Elizabeth. The screaming. Knuckles. She broke me in, and I broke her. We shared secrets, we taught each other tricks. After the - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - conscious screams “AWAKEN!!” and last time, just before I wake up, still in the dark, a face starts to come into focus, and deaths and the great decline, I needed her more than ever. I may be an evil bastard but I still have feelings. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It’s dark. I can’t see anything. This is the furthest the dream has gone. My subconscious is in control, and my unconscious In short, we blossomed. And she’s still locked in the fireplace, I can hear her struggle, barely hear her shout: “The door’s - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Their eyes roll back into their heads and I get smaller, smaller, smaller, smaller, and I enter my father, Dad, dead and six feet under. stuck!! Tails?! The door is stuck!!” Shh. Shh. “Get me out of here!!!” She’s claustrophobic. I learned years ago that she has an undeniable hatred for being alone in - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Her grin travels past her ears, and when I turn away there is my father, naked, also grinning. the dark. In our bed, there was always some part of her touching me. Her foot, her ass, her back, her hand. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I see my mother suddenly appear in front of me, legs spread open. NO! NO NO NO NO!!!! I don’t want back in!!!! She told me that she’s always slept with a night light. Shhh. Shhh. Be calm. Be silent. She started pounding on the door, hard. The bent poker was wrapped so tight that the door only - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I’m a little kid, and I become dumb and stupid, but I remember the box and I hope and pray that I don’t have to go through that. opened a couple of inches, not even enough to let light in. Her shouts paused, as though she’s thinking - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - My eyes snap open and there’s a truck ahead of me. I slam on the breaks and the chick bites down so hard that my dick is severed. about something. Horrible realization. I stood away and watched, listened. The kettle in the kitchen a flight downstairs was going off - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - the only part of the dream that makes sense, because it happened. It prompted my loyalty to the book. I wanted what was lost. and I could still hear her breathing. Very calmly and ever so clearly, she says, “Miles . . . let me out of here.” I only smile. “Miles? I know you’re there.” She’s scared. She’s so fucking scared, and her attempts to hide her fright are laughable. She - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - his face. I’m a teenager, driving along a desert highway, some chick sucking me off. I close my eyes and I enjoy it. This is doesn’t know that I’m here. That’s what’s making her panic. Either I’m standing here toying - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - through him, easily, quickly, so fast that he doesn’t have time to cry and his smile is forever plastered on the halves of with her or I’ve left her there to decay in the dark. Either she’s alone or she may as well be. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - morphs into this wooden box, trapped on all sides. The red stains remain, and more are created when a huge pitchfork slices “Miles . . ?” I take a step back. She starts to kick with every mention of my name. “Miles?” Pound. “Miles!?” Pound. “MILES!!!!” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - it. He seems so happy. He giggles and coos, and I smile, thinking that he could be my redemption, my reason to live. The crib Pound, pound, pound. That moment, right there . . . The purest form of anything I can ever hope to do. The harmonious blend of mystery and terror. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I’m twenty, and I’m looking at my child in a crib, which for some reason has these huge red stains painted along the inside of From my perspective I can sit comfortably and laugh at her misery, but from her end, it’s probably a - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I see I snap its neck like a twig. The eyes I suck out. The feet are tougher than I thought and I have to chew WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!! nightmare. It’s dark, it’s hard to breathe, and worst of all, it’s quiet. She can’t her anything besides herself. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - as me. His frozen expression stays on me. WAKE UP! WAKE ME UP! I’m in my thirties and I go to this pond, and the first duck I know her so well that I can savor the thoughts that run through her head. She wonders if death - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The longest time passes before I finally notice the rope coming from his neck, his feet inches off the ground, almost as tall is like being in a dark room by yourself, and time doesn’t exist. Time dies along with you, so it’s eternity in - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - me. It’s my first memory of him, and he stares at me for the longest time, hidden in the shadows, eyes ablaze with accusation. a dark room listening to your own breathing echo. You feel your own panic. The air tickles and taunts. And sometimes, you see a shape . . . This familiar shape off in the dark, far away, and you reach out towards it, watching it grow . . . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - He looks so weird doing this. Suddenly, I’m younger, in my forties, but somehow young and stupid and my father still towers over No. No nonononononono NO!! Fuck this! Next I’m driving along this lonely desert highway, having just learned how to drive. Elizabeth’s - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - me to continue. Some scenes repeat, with no reason attached. My father stares down at me and just starts screaming at me. head is in my lap, and it feels so good that my eyes are rolling into my head and FUCK YOU I am not ashamed of this. New topic. Okay. The house. The mansion. Inheritance is the best way to save money. And since I get all of my money from - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I tell myself, and I try to wake up. But I can’t. That suffocating blanket falls on top of me, and it keeps me down under, forces that anyway, it’s not like I have to do algebra. Or even learn it. I can do whatever I want, really, since - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ‘.livE’ Live? You want me to live? ‘!!LIVE’ Why do you look so angry, Dad? What did I do? I’m dreaming. None of this real, I the only things worth doing cost an arm and a leg. Back to the house, I call it a parting gift from Sonic. He called it his bachelor pad. His nest egg. He - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - is. Wait. Dad. Hello dad. Wait. What is that? Are you trying to tell me something? Speak louder! Your voice seems so far away. didn’t even live in it. He kept it closed off, kept it maintained for years, waiting until the perfect someone in - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I can’t see. Still so red . . . But then I realize that my eyes are closed. Wait. Wait. I open my eyes and suddenly there he his life came along, so he could pretend that it was all for her. That this house was special because she was - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - my toilet, and the irony is that I want it more than the anesthetic, pain killer air of wherever I end up. It’s too bright and special. He would lie to her to strengthen their relationship. So, nothing is perfect. There is a lie behind a flawless everything. Sonic said that he had to lie to - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - that of a donut. Light floods me and I can’t breathe, and when I try, it hurts too much. I used to get air from my feeder and make the world a better place. I say it’s bullshit, even if I did tell Elizabeth that the house was for her. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - out of my dried lips. The cord drags me faster and faster until I fall through this dark point in the middle of a circle, like This house has seven stories. This house has its own library. This house has more rooms than I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - cannot reach the walls of my bubble with my arms. The soft pink turns into a violent red, and I start to cry, bubbles rising will even need, more rooms than we can fill children with. The fireplace is as big as a closet, and rises - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - funny. Then, I feel a tug, and the water turns from clear to blood red, and I wonder, at last, am I dying? Free floating, I higher than the floors, topping out ten feet above the roof. It has yards that could be parks or golf courses. There are ponds. There is fruit cellar and a wine cellar. A - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - my shit and my food, squished into this tiny tube, being fed into my wrinkled stomach. I don’t know the difference. It’s library, a LIBRARY, for fuck’s sake! The kitchen alone is bigger than the old apartment building Sonic and - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - all the world is, then it gets twisted in my image, created if you will, as soon as I come into it. As my vision fades I see I used to live in. This was my dream for the bulk of my life, until it became . . . well, you know how these - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - around my neck and attempt to choke myself, try to stop breathing, before things get to complicated. In my bubble, this is things go. Maybe you’ve even heard this story before. It’s the one where this troupe of traveling circus - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - for the simple life I have, but I know there is no dignity in any of it. It’s not for me, and so I wrap the umbilical cord freaks that the media disguised as “Heroes” travels around the world doing deeds that no one else will do, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - backwards. I’m old, so very old, and lonely and tired and I just want to die. I feel so complete just floating, and I long most likely out of sheer laziness. They’re soon taken for granted, because the world is so cruel in their - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - it’s starting again, the dream, THE DREAM! STOP it begins as much as life begins, inside of the womb, except everything is search for the newest thing. Everyone slowly becomes the same person, and these freaks of man-made - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - thankful that it didn’t fall into the wrong hands again. IS THAT ME?!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH MY EYES?!!! Oh no, oh no, nature watch all of it die. They still do their job, solving cases in two hours, dealing with garden variety scum. Work - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - guess it was just his eyes that got to me WHAT THE HELL IS THAT IN THE MIRROR?!! I say we’re all better because of it. Just be decreases. One by one the members come to grips with their station in life and resolve to move on. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - pocketed the book. I hid it from the others, saying that it disappeared along with his body. I don’t know why I did it. I But. Then. Bam. It happens. Society becomes so predictable that it could be mapped like a typhoon or a solar flare. Murders - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - attacked. We won. We brought him down, and as they were dealing out the final blows, as his last gasp spilled out of him, I turn into natural disasters. Suddenly, something new pops up, and these freaks give their profession one - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - wait to find out AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! His book his book his book, I took it from him, while Sonic and Knuckles and Amy last shot to stop it. And let’s just remember what happened to them all because of it. Yes, you’ve heard that one, I know. You must have. The funerals were televised to bored audiences, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - all, and the way Jackson saw it, even if it was like that, at least we have the luxury of ignorance, and we’ll just have to the interview of the last survivor edited to look like a different person entirely. No? You’re sure? Huh. Odd. Maybe this story was manipulated through years of telling, each observer giving an extra spin. I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - and none of the buttons worked, would life be more meaningful and precious, or would the flavor be lost with the point of it guess it really isn’t the same story anymore. I guess whatever is left of the original is only alive in one person. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - frozen computer program, and we all knew about it, that the last thing we see cuts to a blue screen that says “Error. Shut down.” Off track, off track. I want to talk more about Mr. Jackson, and his famous book. Infamous, rather, the way all eventually - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - still surprise him,” if we all knew what death was like, then what would be the point? What if death happened to be like a become. A melancholy, depressed, normal individual. “Remember him? Remember when he used to actually help the world?” I still do. Masses change faster than individuals. Mr. Jackson just tried to break free of the collective of which - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - caught or disabled, he was not afraid of death, in fact, he anticipated it, saying that it was “the only thing that could you had all become one with. He was the only true individual. He created a new path for others to follow, which - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - see, Jackson, he wrote a book, about all of what he learned, to leave a legacy behind to those who wanted it, if he ever was in a way is the same thing as the first. But he wasn’t about that. He tried to teach free thinking. A paradox of his - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - enough for you to share, oh no, you had to take it all from me. You shouldn’t have . !fuck fuck FUCK! He wrote a book, you own kind. He taught that it was all about intentions, that the mind was more powerful than any hurricane. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - little bitch. You should have never tried to do what you did. You always have to have more, don’t you? The wealth wasn’t He started out as a professor, moved to magic shows, lived finally in villainy. Mr. Jackson - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - “WHAT DID I DO TO YOU?! TAILS!! WHAT HAVE YOU BECOME YOU FUCKING MONSTER?!!” I frown. That . . . the audacity . . . you demonstrated the power he held, purely of his own doing. The problem is that he became every other bad - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - heard her, only I could control whether she made it out alive. “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!!!” Pound, pound, scratch, scream. guy in the world: cocky. He bragged about this book . . . And then he was ours. The Sonic Team’s final job before the deaths. Our retirement. Mr. Jackson’s burning red eyes remind me of a dream I’ve been having recently. It seems so familiar, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - quiet at the same time. One of the servants walked by and didn’t give me a second glance. Not a thing. It was like only I too, like they’re images from my life or maybe I’ve had this dream before. In either case, they’re been getting - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - vegetable for about two full minutes before she lost it. Her scratching and kicking and screaming seemed so loud yet so longer and longer, and it’s been harder and harder to get out of it. To wake myself up. Even when I realize that it’s a dream, what seems like this suffocating blanket - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - something else . . . the fireplace. No Yes. The fireplace. Elizabeth. Her suffering and not mine. She seemed calm as a falls over me and I don’t snap out of it. Realization that it’s all a lie should crack the contours, should burn - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - in all directions. The whispers have turned to . . . . theyre . . . laughing . . . laughing at me FUCK!!! Think about the glue, should dissolve the framework, but it doesn’t. The walls don’t collapse. The tape doesn’t decay. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - it hits me. OH GOD! Chills move up and down my spine and I collapse to the floor, shivering, clutching myself, trying to see The dream goes on, even when I know I can escape. Something forces it to go on . . . . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - They all say the same thing, and . . . it’s frightening. When I walk back into my room, to face what new word has appeared, This baby just won’t stop crying. Just like the writing on my walls don’t disappear. The servants all abandoned me and I can’t get it off myself. A new word is added every night, then every hour that it’s dark. Then when I’m out of the room. I hear voices follow me from the kitchen to the library to the den to the stairs.