“They don’t want people to know! God, they could just be hiding things like this all over. They could’ve just bought it all up the moment it hit stores, and then hid it all over. Trying to burn it all would bring too much attention, and so would smuggling it out. Hiding it in any one of their homes would bring ‘em hell if they got caught.” she discovered this all in that moment.
She quietly stepped back over to me and sat down on her legs once more. We let out a collective worried sigh as we simply looked into each other’s stressed complexions.
“Can’t get away from it…” Danni murmured.
“Hm…?” I mumbled. Somehow, I knew what she was saying, yet simply wanted confirmation.
“Well…well, look it at this way. They’ve got bigger fish to fry. You saw in the paper where they were; they went RIGHT past us. They don’t care about us. They’re after bigger and better things, obviously.”
“True…” I nodded slowly, finding myself staring at the floor.
“Hey.”
I looked up.
“There’s no point in worrying about what you can’t change. Remember…how did it go? ‘If you keep looking behind yourself, you’ll have a heart attack over your own shadow before you see your enemy’s’. Alright?” she concluded with a weak smirk, standing up and reaching out her hand. I took it, grateful that she was made up of a greater fiber, more than sarcasm. The line she recited was from an old movie whose name I’ve forgotten; I saw it with Danni one of the first times we met.
It seemed that most of the convention was gone. We left the building, now having no reason to stay. Our only intent was to wander around now, just as so many others our age were doing. We found ourselves traversing the dusty and deteriorating gray sidewalks, darting in and out of traffic, hearing the faint cry of sirens in the distance, and hearing the very real wail of car horns right in front of us. Each car whispered with gas exhaust as it impatiently drove by, in a hurry to its destination. Without an iota of effort, our worries were washed away by the simple and lazy hours strolling by.
When we turned the corner at the sidewalk, I caught a glimpse of her eyes lighting up, and I saw exactly why when I caught up to her: The Wall spread some more!
The Wall was the facade of a massive abandoned factory; it went out of business years ago, and nobody bothered to do anything with the space ever since. It retained a history of dozens of years within the stones it was made of, and its defining characteristic now was the way it had become a haven for graffiti artists. Just as the world’s history repeated itself, so did The Wall’s: every few months, all of the graffiti would be replaced with a plain red coat of paint by workers for the town. Then, just as soon as it was gone, an explosion of new art went up seemingly overnight, and there was always more than the time before. This process had been going on for years; like an army, the town workers annihilated the sense of creative expression in one day with their blood-red paint, and also like an army, hundreds of colorful bubbles and words returned overnight, sneering at all who tried to destroy it. Danni and I especially also loved to see which portions were re-done, now with more detail and vibrant, shouting colors, and which parts were brand new, born overnight.
“Lookit this one!” Danni pointed to a chaotic tangle of arms and eyes, all of every color under the sun. The way they winded, twisted, pulled, pushed… I couldn’t help but think it was just trying to burst out of The Wall. All around it were sprays by other people. Some were names, some were profanity, some were poems… a little bit of everything. We paced on, observing every little bit of personality splattered onto The Wall.
And in an instant, all that personality seemed gone. Or, it was there, but disturbingly corrupted. I looked over to Danni to make sure I wasn’t the only one who saw it: All of the swaying, bubbly, colorful text in one concentrated spot was replaced with plain, black text. Perfectly straight, perfectly printed, as though done with a ruler. It was obscene on a wall of profanity; I gave it a quick read, but became too much of a combination of disgusted and confused to go on. Danni felt the need to read it out loud.
“Change! Real change! Devon Miller is the man you need! With over 30 years’ experience, nobody is better suited for the job. Remember that name during elections on August 31!” she read aloud, pouting her lip at the end.
“I guess the old guy got sick of this place. Guess there’ll be an election instead of just a buyout.”
“Does this old guy have a name?”
“Uhh…”
“You don’t know any more than I do about this.”
“It’s still just shameful to put this on The Wall.”
We just nodded to each other, and stared for a few moments. I think one of our biggest concerns was that none of the graffiti artists tore it apart like dogs the moment it appeared, injecting some much-appreciated personality back into The Wall. Then, I jolted up when I felt someone sling their arm around my neck.
“It sure is something, isn’t it?” the stranger whistled. I stepped forward to shake off his grasp, and gave him the dirty look he deserved, all while looking him up and down. He was about five foot eight, and possessed a slender build. He wore a gray business suit, red velvet tie and all, against his skin that was rather tan in comparison to the near-porcelain hue of Danni and the apricot tone I held. His black hair was cut short and slick, almost greasy.
He inhaled, looked down, put one hand in his pocket, and held the other as though he was trying to explain something. He flashed a smile with his perfectly white teeth, and everything about him oozed with a deadly charisma. I looked over to Danni for just a moment, and she returned the look with a raised eyebrow.
“Allow me to introduce myself… I’m Mr. Miller.” he pointed to the sacrilegious “graffiti” behind us. He stopped, looked down, then back at us. “Here, let me show you something.” he motioned us to follow him, and reluctantly we did, even if only out of curiosity.
He started leading us into the business district of town, away from the humble shops and apartments. The way he always had something to say without stop was more than a bit unsettling…
“Now, how old are you two…? Thirteen, fourteen…?”
“We’re both seventeen.” Danni growled, making it very clear how she felt about him. All this “Mr. Miller” did was smile again, completely uninterrupted.
“Ah, I see. Well, I’m sure you read through what our party wrote—“
“Vandalizing our wall!”
“—we felt that it would be the perfect spot to cater t—“
“You can find your advertising spots somewhere else!”
Her relentless was impressive, if not just shocking. I never quite saw her act this way before, to anybody. Although this suit and tie was annoying, he wasn’t truly hurting anybody…
“Here, take a seat. Would you like a drink?” I jolted when he started talking to me again; I didn’t even realize where we had walked. The small town had so quickly disappeared, and in its place were rows upon rows of massive business buildings. We were at a surprisingly small political convention, its purpose mostly being to draw the attention of anybody who walked by. Miller’s face and policies were plastered on just about any sheet or object it could find, all with the very same plain text that The Wall was vandalized with.
“Sure…” I took the plastic cup, and had a sip. It was extremely bitter, and I practically spat it right into his face. I forced myself to swallow it, and made a mental note not to have anymore. I held it out to give it back to him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, feigning courtesy.
“I’m on a diet.” I grinned.
“Oh, what are you abstaining from?”
“Rat poison.” I shot a glance to Danni, and she gave a sickeningly sweet smile.
“So, let me just talk a bit about why you’re here.” his demeanor was repulsive, “As you’re becoming adults, you might want to become a little bit more involved in the politics in your country. It’s your business, shouldn’t you be involved?
”
“Not really.” Danni and I responded almost in perfect unison.
“Well, you just might. Anyway, I just wanted to show you this opportunity now. You might not be old enough now, but you will be sooner or later. If you have no need for them, maybe you could give these to a friend or parent?” he handed us both some pamphlets, stained a yellow that somewhat reminded me of ancient scrolls.
“Our parents aren’t that political either, but thanks. Bye.” Danni declared for the both of us. Times were a bit rough, and even though everybody always wanted to believe that someone could change things so they end up with a little more in their pocket, was it really worth going through all that trouble for? Politics lately were volatile…that much was easy to see.
She yanked me by my wrist, and we walked back to the apartment, all of those major business buildings around us disappearing once more for the humble shops to rise in their place. The sun was drooping down behind these buildings, painting the sky with an orange-yellow. The summer warmth in the city started to retract, ready to go to the other side of the world where it would be better appreciated.
“I need to get back to my place, it’s getting a little late…” Danni told me when we arrived at the door to my apartment. We gave each other a hug, and she started down the hallway before stopping at the first step of the stairs.
“Hey Leo?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re never really gonna be interested in politics like that, right?”
“Nah.”
“Good.” she grinned, and continued down the stairway.
I chuckled softly to myself, and shoved my hand into my pocket. I pulled out a ring of keys, and fiddled with them until I found the right one to unlock the door. I stepped inside, and locked the door behind me. As usual, my parents weren’t home yet. They tended to come home after the sun retreated back behind the little land that wasn’t already built upon and let the moon take the spotlight. I flopped out onto the worn and beaten couch, and pulled a book from underneath.
Before flipping through my novel’s contents, I took a good look around the room, just as I often did; it was a humble yet respectable apartment. Tan walls with divine, blood-red curtains (even though they were five dollars at the thrift store) acting as a backdrop to dozens of little gadgets spilt on the green-blue carpet. There were dozens of little cracks in the walls from years of use, damage, and some of the ceiling was eroded from the upstairs neighbors’ antics. With a sigh, I sat on my back and turned the pages of the book in my hands…
Page one hundred and eighty-two. The chapter’s title was “And My Nightmare Begins” of “Primitive Intuition: A Disturbing Collection of Twenty-Five Poems and Short Stories”. Horror wasn’t usually my cup of tea, but what can I say? The embossed cover of thousands of snakes intertwined into a twisted, almost DNA-like stairway against a black background caught my eye. I started reading the dark passages, and just as always, made a mental image in my head.
“Trapped. Suffocating. Dying! Beelzebub is laughing his crooked laugh all along my spine, throughout my time.”
Entrancing.
“Another minion sent to lay me down in a bed of ash, coughed up by the earth.”
Crippling.
“Ten thousand eyes stare me down until the end of days.”
Terrifying.
“Drenched in gasoline! Conquest, War, Death, Famine! Immolate me!”
Intimidating.
“The reaper stares hard. Twisting jaws, spinning blades, caressing stones by another name of fingers. Your survival is haunting.”
Fabricating…?
The heat was stolen from the room. My jaw drops. Or is it ripped off? Before me, the color of the room is bled out and everything reeks of ashes; all that remains is black and a bony hand grabs my shoulder. A robed figure stands behind me, his garments of a shadowy substance, dissipating but never disappearing. He holds a scythe, gripped by bones. His entire body was bereft of flesh or skin. His empty eye sockets stared right into me… I tried to scream, but no words came out. I saw this demon raise its scythe high, put one deathly leg forward, and take a heavy swing. I shut my eyes tight before it hit, felt my body hit the floor, and then, nothingness…
I awoke to a complete blur. Through the muddled vision, I could barely make out what looked to be a court room along with a judge’s bench… thousands of thoughts ran through my mind all at once, but one was immediately put to rest: I felt a sharp pain in my head, so I was still of this earth. The room appeared to be made up of a light brown and white color scheme; not too rare for a court room setting. Every one of my senses was near-useless, and the only emotion I could feel was fear. Sheer terror. I tried to turn my head, but I could only move it a few inches. I could make out a few men clad in black suits sitting beside me. I was slumped back in my seat, and tried to use every ounce of strength I had to move, but couldn’t raise myself. With my poor hearing, I thought I could hear yelling, screaming. One final thunderous roar made my world tremble when I could make out the shape of a gavel striking. I felt myself grabbed by two men, each one grasping one of my arms. I was yanked away. I could feel all eyes in the court on me, even if I couldn’t see them.
As soon as I was dragged to the back of the room, I blacked out momentarily. After I forced myself awake again, I was thrust into a new, completely white room. It had the horrifying qualities of an asylum, and all I wanted was escape. I was thoughtlessly cast into the middle of the room, where I saw a person (most likely a medic, due to their white garbing) hold a needle up. I tried to squirm away, but all that I found myself doing was blacking out once again as the needle was shoved into my arm…
My muscles were my own again, but blackness was all I could see. I immediately forced my eyes wide open, only to squeeze them shut as the light painfully poured into my eyes. I rubbed them violently and quickly to allow myself to see. The first thing I did was run my hands over my body to find what was wrong with me… but I found nothing. I clenched and relaxed my fists repeatedly to make sure every inch of my body was working once more.
How the hell did I get here? All that ran through my head were the events that happened while I was reading that book, and afterwards… the demon, the courthouse, the injection…
Once my eyes were functional again, I took a terrified look around the room, not sure what would throw itself at me now. The room I was in reminded me of the last I saw, only instead of being in a padded cell; it was architecture I had never quite seen before. The room was rectangular, and probably a good forty by twenty feet. The walls were about fifteen feet high, but were laid about twenty feet short of the ceiling, which contained nothing of value except bright, intrusive lights. The walls were once again an encapsulating pure white… off to my side was a sectioned-off shower area which was currently being used. I could barely make out the figure of a man through the blurry glass.
In front of me were two doors. Before taking the chance to open one up, I took a look behind me to make sure nobody was watching. Safe. I turned the knob on the left, and… an empty room. It was the size of an average bedroom, and completely devoid of anything; just an empty, white room. In confusion, I turned back and opened the other door. Inside this room was an area about twice the size of the one I was in, and it had four doors, as well as another shower in the corner. There was a man in the other corner, garbed in a white robe. He didn’t say a word, and only stared at me with lonely eyes. I stared at him back, but my eyes screamed disbelief. I ran forward to the first door on the left, and my heart jumped into my throat. Another empty room! I ran to the next door over, another empty room! The next door opened up to an area twice as big… but had eight doors. More lonely men here, all garbed in white. God help me, I’m trapped!
I threw open door after door. My hopes were dashed and built up with every door opened. My eyes were absolutely blinded by the white without escape. I finally stumbled into a room with… sixty-four doors. I could only tell because each room doubled the number of doors that
the previous had. The scale was humbling, overwhelming. There were probably a few dozen of the hopeless men in here, and I threw every door open, my breaths becoming heavier and faster, panic gripping me. I threw open one last door, and all that I knew was that the room I opened was NOT white.
“GOD DAMMIT!” I dropped to my hands and knees, and hyperventilated right there, head hanging low, facing the floor. I couldn’t care less who was watching. I had been stuck in that hellish maze for hours; I had every right to release my tensions.
I raised my head slowly, and blushed a bit when I found a number of people watching. I looked all around me, finding a perfectly normal lobby. Well, it seemed to be a lobby combined with a library. Greek pillars were erected to hold up the building. Their history was new, as there were no bold scratches or patches upon them. Odysseus had been long gone from their fictitious sights, and this humble home was their new inspiration. I could see all the way up to the domed roof, covered in twisting maps of glass, a cunning sort of geometry in their structure; every edge and curve recited formulas of old to explain their exquisite creation, all forming a map to lead the way for future generations. The color scheme was once again white, only it was a more relaxed, natural sort of white, reminiscent of marble, the very same marble that the Greek pillars also offered to those who wanted their design. Off to my right seemed to be some sort of waiting room full of chairs that had no occupants. That room was tan with red borders, but didn’t jut out from the plain white too much. Off to my far left was a doorway beyond a series of very short steps alongside a handicap ramp. In front of me was a secretaries’ desk; a middle-aged, red haired woman occupied it. Behind her was a twisting stairway that went to the upper floor. I stood up on my feet again, and looked around cautiously. The door that I just came out of was attached to a complete wall; that is, it wasn’t built halfway to the ceiling as the others were; it was proud to be the first that blocked the other prisoner’s view to freedom. I took a few steps forward, and couldn’t help but be curious of what was upstairs. I slowly walked by the secretary, eying her suspiciously, but she didn’t even seem to notice me. I relaxed a bit, and started my ascent up the stairs of the same marble-white that the columns were.
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