it all ends eventually
i'll take it away
nothing more
that can make me stay
another reflection
the way you looked at me
it hurts so much
to set you free
Monday, August 31, 2009
part 0, chapter 5
He had a dream of him reaching out, standing in a golden field. The sky was bright blue and the wind was blowing lightly, playing with his hair. He looked happy.
"Come on." he said, his hand extended to him. "It's not that far from here."
They laid on the ground staring up at the sky. He felt warm next to him. Safe. Nothing else mattered in those few minutes. They both carried the scars, and had done so for so long, but on that day it was all forgotten. He almost could have called it home.
But his real wounds had started to ache and he could smell the iron in the air. Claude hadn't noticed yet but it was only a matter of time. He was so tired of hurting him.
In the summer of 1997, over a decade before the end, Charlie knew what he had to do.
"Come on." he said, his hand extended to him. "It's not that far from here."
They laid on the ground staring up at the sky. He felt warm next to him. Safe. Nothing else mattered in those few minutes. They both carried the scars, and had done so for so long, but on that day it was all forgotten. He almost could have called it home.
But his real wounds had started to ache and he could smell the iron in the air. Claude hadn't noticed yet but it was only a matter of time. He was so tired of hurting him.
In the summer of 1997, over a decade before the end, Charlie knew what he had to do.
part 0, chapter 4
Bruises on his neck, his ghostly complexion, the wound on his chest that never seemed to heal. He took it all in as Claude spoke next to him. "Look."
There was worry etched in the lines under his eyes and how dark they seemed to have gotten. "Look what it's doing to you." He said, and Charlie thought he could see him tearing up a little. That scared him. Claude almost never cried.
"Fine. S-so what? It's not like we can go back." At the thought of doing so, fear ran all through him and he had to stop thinking about it.
The fluorescent lights were burning into his eyes, and he wanted to leave. But somehow he was stuck staring at his own reflection. The longer he looked, the more tired his self in the glass seemed to be.
There was worry etched in the lines under his eyes and how dark they seemed to have gotten. "Look what it's doing to you." He said, and Charlie thought he could see him tearing up a little. That scared him. Claude almost never cried.
"Fine. S-so what? It's not like we can go back." At the thought of doing so, fear ran all through him and he had to stop thinking about it.
The fluorescent lights were burning into his eyes, and he wanted to leave. But somehow he was stuck staring at his own reflection. The longer he looked, the more tired his self in the glass seemed to be.
part [?], chapter 2
It was two in the morning when he suddenly awoke. He stared, unblinking, at the ceiling for a few seconds before he felt it. His breath hitched in his throat and he tried to gather the strength to sit up. He felt like he was choking as he reached the button and pressed it.
Everything else was a blur. He saw them come in and surround him, stick his arm with a needle. The last thing he thought of before he went under was, I want to see Clayton.
Slowly the linoleum floor came into focus. He was laying on his side, and he could see someone standing a distance from his bed. They were wearing boots that were covered in mud.
He opened his eyes all the way and turned his head to see who it was. Clayton stared back at him with sad, wide-open eyes, holding a bouquet of flowers. He could hear the rain hitting the roof.
Then came his quiet voice. "Thomas?" he said, looking like he was seeing a ghost in front of him. He took one step back. "They said you weren't going to wake up." He took another step back, and then broke into a run out of the room.
He couldn't quite think coherently, but as Clayton left Thomas swore he could see a hearing aid in his ear. When did he get that? he thought. As the footsteps of people echoed toward him, he fell back under.
Everything else was a blur. He saw them come in and surround him, stick his arm with a needle. The last thing he thought of before he went under was, I want to see Clayton.
Slowly the linoleum floor came into focus. He was laying on his side, and he could see someone standing a distance from his bed. They were wearing boots that were covered in mud.
He opened his eyes all the way and turned his head to see who it was. Clayton stared back at him with sad, wide-open eyes, holding a bouquet of flowers. He could hear the rain hitting the roof.
Then came his quiet voice. "Thomas?" he said, looking like he was seeing a ghost in front of him. He took one step back. "They said you weren't going to wake up." He took another step back, and then broke into a run out of the room.
He couldn't quite think coherently, but as Clayton left Thomas swore he could see a hearing aid in his ear. When did he get that? he thought. As the footsteps of people echoed toward him, he fell back under.
part 0, chapter 3
Charlie wasn't answering. His blood stained the grass red.
There wasn't anything he could do. He slumped into a sitting position and stared at him. His eyes were looking up at the sky, unblinking.
Suddenly the world changed. He couldn't see, but the sound of an alarm clock was ringing in his ears. Desperately he tried to open his eyes, move, anything. Then everything came into view.
"Are you okay?" Charlie extended his hand to him. He took it and stood up, looking in shock around him, blue sky and white clouds, a road stretching onward into the distance. No rain, no jungle, and no blood.
There wasn't anything he could do. He slumped into a sitting position and stared at him. His eyes were looking up at the sky, unblinking.
Suddenly the world changed. He couldn't see, but the sound of an alarm clock was ringing in his ears. Desperately he tried to open his eyes, move, anything. Then everything came into view.
"Are you okay?" Charlie extended his hand to him. He took it and stood up, looking in shock around him, blue sky and white clouds, a road stretching onward into the distance. No rain, no jungle, and no blood.
part [?], chapter 2
"It's all..." She looked off into the distance, staring past him at something that probably didn't exist. "It's all going to happen again. And again."
The sketch started to turn into something else, something he could recognize. Light brown hair and bright eyes, a boy with a camera in his hand. He was covered in his own blood.
Nolan turned away, trying not to be sick. "Stop." he said, unable to look anymore.
"Go back." she said. "It may only be one time, but I fixed it." The page had been cleared, and in its place was a different drawing of two people. He looked at it for a long time, unable to tear himself away. And then he went back.
The sketch started to turn into something else, something he could recognize. Light brown hair and bright eyes, a boy with a camera in his hand. He was covered in his own blood.
Nolan turned away, trying not to be sick. "Stop." he said, unable to look anymore.
"Go back." she said. "It may only be one time, but I fixed it." The page had been cleared, and in its place was a different drawing of two people. He looked at it for a long time, unable to tear himself away. And then he went back.
part 0, chapter 2
He was running as fast as he could across the wet grass, crying and out of breath. He had never wanted to see this place again, never wanted anything to do with it, but something was wrong and he could feel it.
Then he saw them, Claude and himself from thirty years ago. But it was all wrong.
Charlie saw himself at age 19 slumped over and choking on his own blood, staining his hands red as he tried to cover his mouth. His eyes were dim but wide open, the light fading out of them. Claude was frozen in place as he stared at the wound.
"No," he said quietly, watching as Charlie fell to the ground. He still hadn't moved, tears streaming down his cheeks.
This was all wrong.
Then he saw them, Claude and himself from thirty years ago. But it was all wrong.
Charlie saw himself at age 19 slumped over and choking on his own blood, staining his hands red as he tried to cover his mouth. His eyes were dim but wide open, the light fading out of them. Claude was frozen in place as he stared at the wound.
"No," he said quietly, watching as Charlie fell to the ground. He still hadn't moved, tears streaming down his cheeks.
This was all wrong.
part 1, chapter 5
He’s thinking about it.
Thomas is bending over him. His hair falling in his eyes, lips upturned in a gentle smile. Hands making their way down. His fingers trace over it.
“Wait.” he says, sitting up. “I can’t do this.” He tries not to notice his expression falling as he takes a step back.
He stops thinking about it, his heart aching and his eyes burning with fresh tears. Why did I say no? He thought. Why?
Then he finds himself thinking about his eyes, his laugh, the way his hands felt against his skin. It was all coming back too fast even though it had been too long to hurt anymore. He might have been sobbing, but he couldn’t hear himself.
There’s a knock at the door. He’s pulled out of his thoughts, and only one replaces them. What the woman with the harsh-smelling perfume had told him. You have to start telling yourself that it won’t be him.
He bit his lip and got up, wiping his eyes. It was only a few steps to the door, but they felt like hundreds and when he finally had his hand around the knob he was shaking. You have to accept what happened and keep going, she had told him. Clayton inhaled violently and opened the door.
The man at his doorstep was crying, or maybe it was just the rain. His red hair was soaked, dripping onto his clothing and his face. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his shoelaces were untied. There was a silver ring on his left finger.
For a moment he was absolutely frozen. There he was, directly in front of him. The same person he had been in love with ten years ago.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
part [?]. chapter 1
Even if the auditorium was empty, he poured his heart and soul into the song. Even if no one was ever going to hear him play again, it was his everything, because that was all he had left.
His friends were fighting amongst themselves, his parents were dead, his girlfriend had left him for some guy overseas. And every time he went to sleep, the girl with the white hair told him a story.
"It was such a long time ago," she would say in her strange high voice. "You wouldn't remember. I wouldn't remember. As far as we're concerned, it never happened. In that place you poisoned yourself. Your parents were separated by death. Clayton shot himself when he was thirty, and you never even met Thomas because he died of a heart attack when he was only sixteen." She would smile a little. Flip her hair off of her shoulder.
"Aren't you glad we're not there now?"
He started to feel cold, and stopped playing, glancing around the room to really make sure no one was there. He closed his eyes.
She knelt next to him and whipsered, "Aren't you scared?"
His friends were fighting amongst themselves, his parents were dead, his girlfriend had left him for some guy overseas. And every time he went to sleep, the girl with the white hair told him a story.
"It was such a long time ago," she would say in her strange high voice. "You wouldn't remember. I wouldn't remember. As far as we're concerned, it never happened. In that place you poisoned yourself. Your parents were separated by death. Clayton shot himself when he was thirty, and you never even met Thomas because he died of a heart attack when he was only sixteen." She would smile a little. Flip her hair off of her shoulder.
"Aren't you glad we're not there now?"
He started to feel cold, and stopped playing, glancing around the room to really make sure no one was there. He closed his eyes.
She knelt next to him and whipsered, "Aren't you scared?"
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
part 0, chapter 1
It was simple, but he was finding it difficult to wrap his head around it. Instead of continuing forward, like he had planned, he sat down. It was cold for fall and the high winds made it worse. He could only sit there and listen to the sound of the waves.
For a moment he almost felt it, the water closing in around him and taking his air. The endless blue stretched out before him. But it was gone as soon as it came and he still couldn't will himself to move.
This is what I wanted. he thought. I thought I wanted this. What am I doing?
As if to remind him, increasingly he could feel the cold metal that was around his neck. He thought of his name engraved into it and tried not to throw up. Even though he hated it with his whole being he never got rid of it, and it stayed around his neck. Day and night, awake and asleep, dead and alive.
He stood.
For a moment he almost felt it, the water closing in around him and taking his air. The endless blue stretched out before him. But it was gone as soon as it came and he still couldn't will himself to move.
This is what I wanted. he thought. I thought I wanted this. What am I doing?
As if to remind him, increasingly he could feel the cold metal that was around his neck. He thought of his name engraved into it and tried not to throw up. Even though he hated it with his whole being he never got rid of it, and it stayed around his neck. Day and night, awake and asleep, dead and alive.
He stood.
Monday, August 3, 2009
dirt
there's dirt in his hair
there's dirt on his face
there's dirt all around
and getting inside
he can't help but wonder
how things would have been
if he stayed forever
if he hadn't died
there's dirt on his face
there's dirt all around
and getting inside
he can't help but wonder
how things would have been
if he stayed forever
if he hadn't died
part 1, chapter 4
He was a normal kid, for the most part, and maybe that was one of the things he admired most about him. The main thing they had in common was being an outsider, but Woodrow was so good at hiding it that anyone could guess he had lived in the states since he was born.
The only giveaway was the notebook he would sometimes open in class, filled almost cover to cover with a novel he was writing in French. He treated it as his prized possession, angry when someone even looked at it for too long. Obviously he couldn't read it, but Nolan was fascinated by it all the same.
If he thought about it too much he would break down and cry, but he couldn't help it. His handwriting that was hard to read, the way he wore his jeans just a bit too low, how his hair always fell into his eyes the same way. And the camera.
A red camera with a strap that was constantly dangling from his wrist. He would always take pictures at random times, whenever he felt like it. Nolan thought about what might be on the memory card, but he could never bring himself to look at it. And still the camera sat on his desk, nearly two years later.
The only giveaway was the notebook he would sometimes open in class, filled almost cover to cover with a novel he was writing in French. He treated it as his prized possession, angry when someone even looked at it for too long. Obviously he couldn't read it, but Nolan was fascinated by it all the same.
If he thought about it too much he would break down and cry, but he couldn't help it. His handwriting that was hard to read, the way he wore his jeans just a bit too low, how his hair always fell into his eyes the same way. And the camera.
A red camera with a strap that was constantly dangling from his wrist. He would always take pictures at random times, whenever he felt like it. Nolan thought about what might be on the memory card, but he could never bring himself to look at it. And still the camera sat on his desk, nearly two years later.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
part 1, chapter 3
He couldn't hear. They were speaking to him, but it was just white noise. His mother was staring into his soul.
Afraid to speak, he only shook his head and pointed to his ear. In the few seconds his parents were looking at each other in confusion, it set in again and he buried his head in his hands. Thomas was gone.
He didn't know how long it had been. He had just woken up in the hospital, and for a few minutes he really didn't remember what had happened. He didn't know anything. He wanted to see his friend.
But then it all came rushing back and he had been choking on his own breath, crying and probably screaming but he had no way of knowing what it sounded like. His parents, who had been outside the room talking to the doctor, then came rushing in.
The tears wouldn't stop and even hours later when he was home they just wouldn't go away. Something would remind him of his best friend and it would all come back.
He found himself sitting in the living room looking at a photo album. It was half full of pictures of them, doing all the things they did in the last year. At the lake, rehearsing songs for their band, or just eating lunch. At that point he didn't feel anything, but the tears kept coming.
He didn't understand. This wasn't unexpected. They had planned their whole lives around it for a year and a half. He thought he had come to accept it. But he hadn't, because it was eating him alive.
Afraid to speak, he only shook his head and pointed to his ear. In the few seconds his parents were looking at each other in confusion, it set in again and he buried his head in his hands. Thomas was gone.
He didn't know how long it had been. He had just woken up in the hospital, and for a few minutes he really didn't remember what had happened. He didn't know anything. He wanted to see his friend.
But then it all came rushing back and he had been choking on his own breath, crying and probably screaming but he had no way of knowing what it sounded like. His parents, who had been outside the room talking to the doctor, then came rushing in.
The tears wouldn't stop and even hours later when he was home they just wouldn't go away. Something would remind him of his best friend and it would all come back.
He found himself sitting in the living room looking at a photo album. It was half full of pictures of them, doing all the things they did in the last year. At the lake, rehearsing songs for their band, or just eating lunch. At that point he didn't feel anything, but the tears kept coming.
He didn't understand. This wasn't unexpected. They had planned their whole lives around it for a year and a half. He thought he had come to accept it. But he hadn't, because it was eating him alive.
part 1, chapter 2
Normally, he hated summer. It was hot, uncomfortable, and the storms that came with it made it hard to go anywhere without getting rained on. And late summer, the worst of it, meant school was coming up.
But in that moment, sitting on the shore with Thomas, he loved it. Whatever he had been thinking about, his worries, his problems, they vanished for that short time. He felt like everything was okay, just sitting there resting his head on his shoulder. Even though it wasn't.
Even though he only had six months.
"I love you," said Thomas. "You do know that, right?"
Clayton bit his lip, trying not to cry. Neither of them had ever said it before. He stared out at the water and tried to return to peace but it wasn't working. "I know. And I love you too." He laid back on the sand, staring up at the sky and listening to the waves.
But in that moment, sitting on the shore with Thomas, he loved it. Whatever he had been thinking about, his worries, his problems, they vanished for that short time. He felt like everything was okay, just sitting there resting his head on his shoulder. Even though it wasn't.
Even though he only had six months.
"I love you," said Thomas. "You do know that, right?"
Clayton bit his lip, trying not to cry. Neither of them had ever said it before. He stared out at the water and tried to return to peace but it wasn't working. "I know. And I love you too." He laid back on the sand, staring up at the sky and listening to the waves.
part 1, chapter 1
It was quiet. The thing he remembered the most about that night was the silence. There weren't any dogs barking, cars weren't going down the street, even the sound of crickets seemed to be gone.
At the time he didn't notice. They were sitting on the couch, texting each other even though they were two feet apart. It was stupid, he was nervous. His face was hot as they discussed their feelings over text. What do you really think of me?
Clayton looked up from his phone and at him, thoughtfully. "What?" he asked, frowning slightly. "Sorry, I know you wanted...well, I just have to say something."
He looked down at his phone and frantically typed something, unable to speak. He started to sweat. Are we just friends?
Smiling, he typed out an answer. Not exactly. Then he was looking at him. It was a quiet look, but it spoke a hundred words all the same. Neither of them said anything for a moment.
Something was going to happen, but before it did, he saw. It took his gaze off of his friend and made his blood run cold and his fingertips go numb. His eyes went wide.
"Clayton," he whispered, pointing to the window. "Look."
Red and blue lights flashing in front of the house, almost blinding him. He stood and ran to the door, running out of the house. Nolan was frozen for a moment but he followed. He couldn't feel his legs. He desperately willed himself not to cry. You don't know what's happened, he told himself. It could be nothing.
But somehow, he just knew.
"Is this the residence of..." The officer glanced at his paper. "Clayton Dominguez?"
He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to hide that they were shaking. "Yeah."
Nolan saw it before Clayton did. In the officer's other hand was a red digital camera. The lens was shattered.
"...at 6:30 today, we found..."The words faded out and he didn't hear most of them. "....think he may have been hit.........blood on the road..."
"Missing."
He didn't have any time to process the information. Everything was blurring together and he was suddenly knelt on the ground throwing up, but he wasn't sure how he got there.
The next thing he felt was a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's get inside." said Clayton's voice in his ear. As he was helping him up he saw the car had gone. How long had he been on the ground?
At the time he didn't notice. They were sitting on the couch, texting each other even though they were two feet apart. It was stupid, he was nervous. His face was hot as they discussed their feelings over text. What do you really think of me?
Clayton looked up from his phone and at him, thoughtfully. "What?" he asked, frowning slightly. "Sorry, I know you wanted...well, I just have to say something."
He looked down at his phone and frantically typed something, unable to speak. He started to sweat. Are we just friends?
Smiling, he typed out an answer. Not exactly. Then he was looking at him. It was a quiet look, but it spoke a hundred words all the same. Neither of them said anything for a moment.
Something was going to happen, but before it did, he saw. It took his gaze off of his friend and made his blood run cold and his fingertips go numb. His eyes went wide.
"Clayton," he whispered, pointing to the window. "Look."
Red and blue lights flashing in front of the house, almost blinding him. He stood and ran to the door, running out of the house. Nolan was frozen for a moment but he followed. He couldn't feel his legs. He desperately willed himself not to cry. You don't know what's happened, he told himself. It could be nothing.
But somehow, he just knew.
"Is this the residence of..." The officer glanced at his paper. "Clayton Dominguez?"
He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to hide that they were shaking. "Yeah."
Nolan saw it before Clayton did. In the officer's other hand was a red digital camera. The lens was shattered.
"...at 6:30 today, we found..."The words faded out and he didn't hear most of them. "....think he may have been hit.........blood on the road..."
"Missing."
He didn't have any time to process the information. Everything was blurring together and he was suddenly knelt on the ground throwing up, but he wasn't sure how he got there.
The next thing he felt was a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's get inside." said Clayton's voice in his ear. As he was helping him up he saw the car had gone. How long had he been on the ground?
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