It was dark, too. I remember that. The only light came in through the stairs, and there was some that came through the windows, too, but that was it.
I was on three of my favorite drugs at the time. I had been occupying myself for some time under their influence, especially now that Antonius had just come back to town. There was nothing like detachment, like setting my mind in a frame where the horror of what happened was no longer inconceivable
Lots of shouting. I remember lots of shouting.
"Lewis! Lewis! Chug a beer! Lewis!" Cries of ascent. because then I could start to deal with reality and try, in any way I could, to forge some sort of resolution and get on with my life.
"But that's not how it happened!"
"No rebuttal!" Many voices now. Voices of all types. "No rebuttal!"
Antonius was the only one who could share the pain with me. Shanai had almost cut him as deeply as she had me. So we liked to hang out together in those days and feel depressed, dope up and become detatched. And we grew closer in our detatchment.
That night I was drunk, high, and wired off my ass. And there were also these little snowflakes... The recipe was fine that night, and, if I remember correctly, involved rather large amounts of the correct ingredients. And I was really into my high, my trip if you please.
All the intrusions, all the voices. Louder then softer they're BREAKING ME UP!!!
"No rebuttal! Douse him! Douse him!" Humph.
"But that's -"
(but what? that's what?)
"No rebuttal!" Cries of ascent.
(no, really - what were you going to say?)
My vision reminded me of a movie screen. It was like - I was watching a horror flick or something. I could only see feet crawling, because my head was so heavy it was aiming for the floor. Pairs of feet all organizing themselves in pictures and then scampering hurriedly off to another location.
But none of them stopped before me.
(there is quite the difference, son, between knowing what is known and understanding it)
Of course, all my fraternity brothers believed by then, after a year, that my "breakdown" - as some so adaquately decided to term my grief - was permanent. And they knew how I was like when I was disturbed from a trip, especially when I was really falling into it, like I was then.
No rebuttal! Crying and shouting and
(Where are my children!?!)
screaming.
No rebuttal.
(O, MY GOD!!! Where are my children!? Where are my fucking
Suddenly the angels were there. There was a light far away in the distance. Its weak rays passed by these broken, cloaked angels, unable to illuminate them.
CHILDREN!!!!)
Two visions subsisted as one.
I was still in the fraternity house and they were still shouting all around me. And I was also before this monstrous tribunal...
(If you've done anything to them -!)
There's one of them close to me. The leader. And he's speaking with me. To me. "You know why they can't see you?" he purrs.
He's pacing in front of me. Like a judge. His voice is a mere whisper on the waves of my high. They're calm right now. But my heart is racing in my head. I'm waiting to hear the answer. Tensed. Poised. Dying, even...
His feet (I can only see feet) pass in front of me. "You know why they can't see you?"
So full of hate he is. So hating. The other angels are standing solemnly by like statues. They don't move.
Monstrous tribunal.
"You know why they can't see you." He's in front of me again and now he's leaning closer. His face must be just before mine (but I'm looking at the floor) and yet I can feel no breath. And as he moved, I remember hearing the sounds of stone bending. Hard and cracking.
"Because you're already dead."
| * | * | * | * | * |
All of a sudden I'm in the woods. A bright, sunny day in the woods. But this forest is a different kind of forest that you're probably imagining. The trees in this forest are all straight and go more or less up! And the low brush is twisted and unhealthy. It's all the same kind. And it's very shadowy in here. The trees are large. There are no animals, at least none where I am. For some reason they're all afraid.
The image has the consistency of a movie screen that's three feet wide. It's all as if this vision, this big idea, were being squished between the folds of reality and I'm just smart enough to bend over and take a closer look...
Fear.
No rebuttal!
Douse him!
They're coming after me again.
I had never had this vision before, but I knew it had a history and that a part of that history was with me, in some other form perhaps, or consciousness, and so I knew this had happened before. They had come after me once before.
And now they're after me again.
So I must run. It's the only solution, really. After all I can't stand and face them. It's not allowed.
Already the charges have been brought against me and judgement passed, without even a breath of a cry from my person in defense.
NO REBUTTAL!
There are dead leaves on the ground but the trees are all draped in a deep, yet fading green. And my footsteps land in the soft mud, striking the ground in rapid thumps, cushioned only by the thin bed of leaves. Crackling for one fleeting instant before being silenced by the ever vengeful earth.
But that noise is enough for them to hear me. (fear me.)
Running, faster, never stopping. FEAR! Fear in my throat pushes my limp feet onward, faster and faster. The trees are racing by and it's then that I know I'm missing something, something important, but I don't know what it is or maybe I'd stop for it.
| * | * | * | * | * |
I knew they were catching up to me, of course. I could sense them. But each time I glanced behind me there was nothing but the calm, cold forest staring back all squished into three feet of space.
And then they had me. I came to a dead halt in the forest, but they came right on at me, striking with a lightening precision...
A full, rectangular shadow falls over me, deadening the whole experience in eternal twilight.
And then
everything stops.
I can still see myself, as from outside myself, staring up at the sky in horror, the shadow drowning me in thick menace as I try to scream, but it's stopped. It's frozen.
Now you can see it's just another hardened image, and even harder to look upon than that.
| * | * | * | * | * |
So they're still after me.
The thick green beast chasing after me, always. But there's nothing I can do about it. I can run, but I don't think I'll ever be able to hide.
You think this is paranoia. You think I'm crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm just tired.
So they're after me. They've always been after me. Since I was twenty. And I can still hear the screaming. Except now they're screaming at me:
(NO REBUTTAL!)
Footsteps still. And they're coming closer.
(The sharp rush of air on wings, fast and deadly.)
You may find this horrifying.
(Horrifying? No, I don't think so. A simple way of life maybe.) Sometimes I don't know why I'm running from them.
(Shouldn't I just stop?)
Because sooner or later they really will catch me. Tear me up. Let the blood run loose over the cool rocks.
But life is worse.
I feel ...
(Metallically:) I feel like I'm in a room with a hole in the center. And it's sucking everything in. Even reality. And all of my friends. I have to watch them go down, kicking and screaming, always knowing that I'll be going soon...
Can you save me?
Because since I was twenty I've felt the tug. Deep darkness is calling me.
Since I was twenty, they've really been after me.
What can be worse than that?
This site and all its contents are the result of the tumultuous workings of the mind of one Adam Wasserman.