100TC #9 - Insanity

I know I have not posted a new text for a long time, and I am sorry. But inspiration is something that has to come by itself, and forcing it does not always give good result, so I prefer taking my time to do things properly ;) So here is the 9th entry of my 100 Themes writing challenge, based on the theme "Insanity".

*** 

- INSANITY -

Sex And Whiskey

She was a strong woman. She was about to give birth to her first child. Well she hoped to, her last attempt at having a child had been a failure. Stillborn, her baby died before he even came to life. She was scared to death about it happening again, and she prayed to all the gods to hear the baby cry. It was time, the baby was here. She had been drugged by the doctors to avoid birth complications. For some reason she was still half-conscious. She had no idea how long she had been on the hospital bed with the doctors surrounding her, but she could still see them even though she couldn't not feel a thing. Their voices were muffled and her sight was clouded, yet she was still half aware of what was going on. After what seemed to be hours, the baby had finally come out of her womb. She fell unconscious.

I woke up, feeling real bad. I felt like I was having the worst hangover of my life. Where was I? I could see shapes and shadows walking around me, but I couldn't see much, nor hear much either for that matter. It was like there was a giant storm around my head, shielding me from what was going on in the outside world. And that pain in my head, it was as if I had just been hammered. What on earth could have happened, where was I? Who was I? 

The young man prayed to all the gods everything would go well. He had only just started on the job, and he felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Maybe not the world, but at least one life depended on him. Maybe even two. He had to succeed. He was well aware of how the previous attempt ended in failure and he surely did not want to be the one linked to it. He would feel responsible, and he could never forgive himself if it did fail. Taking a deep breath, he moved forward.

That feeling of the first sip from a glass of aged whiskey, there is nothing like it. I can feel it go down my throat and into my stomach into a long, nice and warm embrace. There is nothing else in the world like it. Keeps me warm when the outside world is so cold, like a hug from a past that used to be good, unlike this full of shit present, and an even bleaker future if you ask me. I have nothing else left now. I have made mistakes in the past and they will follow me to my grave. Whiskey is my only friend now, the only thing that keeps me alive. Keeps the madness at bay. Meh, it is better than all the suffering I guess. That was not my fault, yet they blamed it on me, the bastards. And because of them my life is lost forever. I have no reason left to go on.

What is life to someone who barely has the time to breathe it? Is there really nothing for someone who dies before being brought into the world? Or maybe there is something after all? Maybe what is for us the glimpse of a second is for them a whole lifetime? Who knows those things? No one? Lies! I do, because I have lived it. There is no one to hear my dying thoughts, except maybe you, whoever you are. You will know how it is. A life of death. What fate it is to be born only to die right after? I did not even have time to live, nor to actually learn how to talk... So how is it I am using words in my thoughts if I do not even know what words are? Are we born with the gift of the Verb, even if we think we do not know how to use it? Are we born out of something that died? I do not know, but here I am thinking, even though I should not. Maybe I should stop thinking. Yet there is no such thing as not thinking. No matter how hard you try, you cannot not think, and that even if you do not have a brain. So here I think. And the writer types what I think. And you reader read what he typed. And so we are one. You are inside me through him. It is like a threesome when you think of it. We are sharing a sexual experience here. Is it not great? I liked sex in my time! Or did I? Actually I do not think I ever experienced it. Or maybe I did. Anyway it was great. Or not. I do not know. What do you care anyway? Leave me alone, get out of my head.

The voices would not stop haunting him since that day. Voices of the dead, of people who suffered because of him. The more he would go on, the less sense they made. As this, this did not make sense.

You read this yet you do not. Reading those sentences, you scratch your head. The memories of the dying. You wonder what is the link between all those paragraphs. Maybe the writer is just trying to fool me, you think. Maybe I am losing my time reading this. That is exactly what you are thinking. You close your eyes, trying to make sense out of this. Yet you cannot understand something so senseless. You decide reading this is not worth your time. You have better things to do. This is just plain insane, you think as you click off the tab on your internet browser.

*** 

(C) Copyright 2014 Hope Alexander aka David Giroux for the text

Painting by Edgar Degas (1876)

100TC #8 - Memory

8th entry of the 100 Themes writing challenge. For my previous entry I have been doing mostly short stories. This one will be a bit different, it is more of a poetic text and is open to interpretation, I hope you enjoy :)

***

- MEMORY -

Call of Mnemosyne

The sound of church bells...

I remember

I remember a church. I see a sea of people in ceremony garb. A king and a queen, and obviously nobility. They are crying. A coffin is being carried. People are mourning. Who died? Who is being mourned? Could it be me?

The scent of spring flowers...

I remember

A large garden, not from this time. Going farther than the eye can see. People watering the flowers, gardeners hard at work. A magnificent garden that is almost a work of art. I look at it from a balcony. Where am I? Is this a caslte? Could this be my house?

The sight of an old house...

I remember

I remember white stairs. All in white, hidden behind a hidden door. Windows bringing in a faint light in the secret staircase. The white stairs are going up. What could be on the upper floor?

The feel of the summer sun on my skin...

I remember

Warm sand under my bare feet. I am trapped in it, I cannot move. I am getting sucked in. In the distance I can admire magnificent buildings. I scream but no one can hear me. Is this how I died?

The taste of jasmine tea in the morning...

I remember

I remember a magnificent city, and a banquet full of exotic dishes, the scent of jasmine filling the air. Hundreds of guests attending, their heads turned towards me. Is this in my honour?

The sight of blood...

I remember

Someone having a heart attack. I hurry towards them, they need help. I get some tools and help them breathe. How do I have this talent?

The burning passion of sex...

I remember

I remember a handsome man, naked, enlaced with me. We are careful not to be seen. We cannot be seen together. He holds me tight in his arms. Is he my lover?

Only faint images, pictures flashing in my head like memories from a past I have never lived. Unless I have lived another life, or maybe more than one? I remember it, it is unclear, only fragments. But I remember it. These flashes are as real as any other memory. Yet what are memories, are they all real or only the product of our imagination? And what if imagination and memories were both the truth, what if they were one and the same? I know one thing for sure, I do not belong here. I remember where I truly belong and no fake memories will take that away from me.

***

(C) Copyright 2014 Hope Alexander aka David Giroux for the text

Painting : Mnemosyne by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1881)

100TC #7 - Breathe Again

Sorry everyone I have been getting a bit late on my 100 Themes writing challenge. I will say I am a slow writer, and posting a new text every day is quite a challenge. So I might slow the pace a little bit, but do not worry I will still post very often :). I shall not make you wait any longer, so here is number 7, based around the theme "Breathe Again". 

***

- BREATHE AGAIN -

Blood Rose

Finally, I will breathe again...

It has been so long. I felt like I was choking. I needed air. I needed to breathe. I needed it, to feel alive again. Without it I am not, I felt like a mindless corpse tending to my everyday job, soulless. I tried to change, I have always known this was wrong, but as far as I can remember, this is how I have been. I do not know why others do it, but I know why I cannot stop myself from doing it. It feeds my soul, my very being. It gives me the strength I need. It gives me a heart, with it I feel whole, I feel human, I feel alive. Every time I do it, it is as if I was reborn. Born anew, stronger than I ever was before, I feel life flow through my veins. It is enthralling, it is the most powerful feeling I could ever feel. It is more than an addiction; this is the very reason of my existence. It is all part of a great design I have been meant to be the center of. I might be different, others might think I am wrong, but I am above it all. Unlike them I know, I know what this feels like. I know what it can bring. The truth has been revealed to me in it, it makes me who I am, it is my destiny. Alas, I cannot do it whenever I please and I have been a long time without enjoying its delights. But tonight is the night I will breathe again. I will cut her veins with the knife I have prepared for this special night. The blood will flow out of her veins, slowly like rain on a beautiful blood rose, and life will slowly leave her poor and frail body. A small sacrifice for a greater design. I live only to kill, and as I slowly drain the life away from her, as I will see her take her last and final breath, the last sparkle of life dying in her eyes, I will breathe again. 

***

(C) Copyright 2014 Hope Alexander aka David Giroux for the text

Picture by Ashayaa

100TC #6 - Innocence

6th entry of the 100 Themes writing challenge. Another short story today, enjoy :) Thank you for reading.

***

- INNOCENCE -

An Empty Chair

“Such a sweet child, Sofia is. I am so proud of her. She is really good at school, you know?  For a 7 years old girl, who’d think she’d be that good at maths? She has a bright future ahead of her I know it, she’s a little genius. Such intelligence in such a sweet innocent little thing. She’s not only good at maths, she also has a wonderful imagination. She always tells all those stories about her imaginary friends. There’s Mr M. for example, she says he’s her best friend. Apparently he’s the one who tells her all those things about being so good at maths. I know how things really are though, she’s only a little girl of course she’d wonder why she is so good at it while other children her age barely know how to count. So I guess she imagined that friend as an explanation to her extraordinary talent. That friend and the many others... Such a sweet child though, such imagination is evidence of a great talent. She can also sing and draw and she’s only 7! I feel like there is nothing she can’t do! She is still so innocent though, so pure... She has a bright future ahead of her I can assure you that!”

Officer Hart could not get his hand off his mouth. He listened to the whole testimony and did not know what to reply to this. He never had to deal with that kind of behaviour before and he felt that was above him. The only thing he could do was to be honest, so he said:

“Sofia doesn’t have a bright future ahead. She doesn’t have a future at all. She’s dead. Your daughter’s dead! She was killed, 10 years ago damn it! Don’t you remember?”

“Nonsense”, replies the woman. “10 years ago she wasn’t even born you foolish man! What is that? Some kind of sick joke? If you are here to talk ill of my daughter I will ask you to leave right now!”

“I am not leaving, Mrs Snow, I am here investigating your daughter’s murder. I know it has been a long time but the case has been reopened as there are new leads on her murderer’s identity. But I will need you to cooperate, I need your help. Shake some sense into you, for heaven’s sake!”

The officer sighed in desperation as he left his cup of tea on the table. Mrs Snow looked angry. She did not seem to understand what was going on. A bewildered look on her face, she replied to the investigator:

“Officer Hart, I don’t know what you’re up to here, but I assure you my daughter is very well alive. Why she’s the one who prepared the sweet tea we are drinking right now, just before your arrival! She’s in her bedroom at the moment, probably playing with Mr M. Follow me I’ll show you!”

And as she says that, she rised from her chair and headed straight to a door on the first floor. Hart sighed and followed her. He would play her game for now, what better could he do anyway? The woman clearly never survived the shock of losing her daughter. She belongs in an asylum, he thought to himself as he followed her. Mrs Snow pushed the door. To Hart’s surprise, the door opened on a children’s bedroom, a chair back to both Hart and Snow on which was sitting a little girl facing a window.

“Who is that?” Asked a puzzled Hart.

“My daughter, Sofia, of course!” replied Mrs Snow.

Hart did not understand. He knew for a fact Sofia was dead and he also knew Snow never had any other child. So who was that little girl sitting on that chair?

“Hello Sofia, I’m officer Hart from the police. May I speak with you?” Asked Hart, still playing Snow’s game.

No reply. The girl did not move an inch, she did not even turn her head to look at them. She seemed completely absorbed by what she was seeing through that window because she was not moving her head from it. Actually she was not moving. Not at all.

“She’s very shy”, said Snow. “Dear Sofia, come say hi to officer Hart, darling!”

Still no reply. Hart started to find this really suspicious and decided to go in the bedroom to have a closer look at that little girl, to see if he could recognize her face. Snow stayed behind. The officer got close to the little girl and what he saw made him jump in terror. Her face, he recognized it. It was Sofia indeed, but her face was dead. Her body was completely stiff. Her skin was not human anymore and her eyes were glass balls. It was Sofia’s body indeed, but she was not alive at all. Her body had been naturalized, just like taxidermists do with animals. What a horrible sight to behold. That explained why the body never had been found. Hart was terrified at Snow’s sickness; she had embalmed her own daughter and thought she was still alive. He started feeling groggy and he thought at first it was because of the grim find. But he quickly realized that was not the problem. His vision started to go blank and he collapsed on the floor... The tea... She had drugged him.

“Oh, feeling tired officer Hart? Let me help you” said Mrs Snow as she grabbed the unconscious man’s body by the feet and dragged him downstairs. She dragged him all the way down to her basement, where she put him on what looked like an operating table. She turned the lights on. The room was quite large. Half of it was occupied by the operating table and by taxidermy tools. The other half held what looked like a gigantic dollhouse. Mrs Snow walked to it and opened its door. Inside, there were dozens of naturalized human bodies, just like Sofia’s. They were all girls, most of them children and amongst them, two grown women. They were all dressed up in princess dresses and other children costumes and were wearing a great amount of makeup on their dead faces. Mrs Snow looked in her dollhouse as to make sure everything was in order, smiled and shut the door close. She then turned her head to an empty chair sitting close to the dollhouse. She smiled and started talking to it:

“Hello Mr. M.! How are you today? You are going to be happy! I have brought you something new, a fine specimen at that! He will make a nice new toy for you to play with when I’m done with him! And a boy at that! You never had a boy doll before, have you? I’ll make one for you just now honey, you’ll just have to be a bit more patient! He’ll make a very nice boy toy for you to play with. Yes, very nice indeed! I better get to work if you want your new toy soon! Mommy likes to make you happy, my sweet Mr. M.!”

She gave the empty chair a warm smile, and headed back to the operating table. She grabbed a surgical knife and started undressing the unconscious officer Hart. She would have a lot of work to do to make him a perfect doll. The night would be long.

***

(C) Copyright 2014 Hope Alexander aka David Giroux for the text

100TC #5 - Break Away

Hello everyone, here is my fifth entry for the 100 Themes writing challenge. I know I am late and I did not respect the one post a day last week and I am very sorry for it. But now I am on summer break until september and so I will have time to post a lot more so please expect a new text every day from now on, I will try to respect it as much as I can :) Anyway, I will not make you wait any longer, so here is today's short story based on the theme "Break Away". Enjoy! 

***

- BREAK AWAY -

6:00 AM

6:00 in the morning. So early to wake up, she thinks as she makes her way to her bathroom. Half-asleep, she gets in the shower. The warm water caresses her skin, making her think about the warmth of her bed to which she would gladly go back to. She stays in the shower for a while... too long of a while actually. Realizing she is late, she quickly gets out of it, grabs a towel and does a fast prep; no time to get her full make up on this morning, sadly. While she looks at the mirror, a strange feeling bothers her. It feels like the one she is looking at, is not her. It feels like, through the mirror, it is someone else glancing back at her and not herself. Probably the lack of sleep, she thinks, not having time to worry about pointless philosophical questions like “who’s on the other side of the mirror?” Being late as she is, she does not take time to eat her breakfast and leaves for work straight away. Her day goes as usual, nothing new, just the same old everyday routine. After her work shift she comes back home and exhausted, falls on the couch. She wished she had someone to come back home to, alas, a couple of weeks ago she had found her beloved boyfriend in bed with none other than her brother. She felt so betrayed, by the man she trusted with all her heart and by her family, both at the same time. Her ex and she were to get married not long ago and this obviously put a bitter end to their plans. And so she was now living alone, going through her every day routine, doing the same and coming back home at the end of her days to find herself alone. Everyone told her things would get better, that she had to be strong. But she is tired of playing strong, she is tired of this life, it is as if her dreams, her world had collapsed in one night. Every day she wishes she could break away from this life and start a new one, somewhere far away where she would not be constantly reminded of all she had lost. But all she could do right now is go on and wait. After a lonely evening, she goes to bed, feeling her cold bed is way too large for someone alone.

6:00 in the morning. Her alarm sets off and all she wants to do is to pick it up and throw it against the wall. She really could not be bothered about going to work today. It would be the same as always, not that she hated her job, but she had no real interest in it. She feels like staying in bed, sleeping her dark thoughts away. But she knows she cannot do this and so with a superhuman effort she leaves her cozy bed to get to the bathroom. Half-asleep, she gets in the shower. The warm water caresses her skin, making her think about the warmth of her bed to which she would gladly go back to. She stays in the shower for a while... too long of a while actually. Realizing she is late, she quickly gets out of it, grabs a towel and does a fast prep; no time to get her full make up on this morning, sadly. She takes a quick look at the mirror to see if she is presentable. The condensation in the mirror prevents her to see clearly, but she still has that strange feeling when she looks at herself. The woman on the other side of the mirror seems so different, as if she is gazing at someone else... but whom? No time to worry about that, she is way too late. She does not take time to eat her breakfast and leaves for work straight away. Her day goes as usual, nothing new, just the same old routine. After her work shift, she comes back home and exhausted, falls on the couch. “Always the same old boring shit”, she thinks to herself as she browses the TV channels. With nothing to do, she decides to go to bed. She feels exhausted not only physically, but mentally, and she thinks to herself an early night would do her good. Even then, she cannot fall asleep and the night feels like it will never end.

6:00 in the morning. Her alarm sets off. She wants to snooze it, but knows how late she always is so she gets out of bed as quick as she can and heads straight to her bathroom. Half-asleep, she gets in the shower. The warm water caresses her skin, making her think about the warmth of her bed to which she would gladly go back to. She stays in the shower for a while... too long of a while actually. Realizing she is late, she quickly gets out of it, grabs a towel an does a fast prep; not time to get her full make up on this morning, sadly. While doing her hair, she has a strange feeling, as if she is being watched. Her mirror is covered in condensation so she cannot fully see, but what is on the other side is clearly not her. She grabs her tower and starts rubbing it against the mirror. When she is done, she screams at what she sees. The woman on the other side of the mirror does not scream back, she stays there, cold, standing still. She does not understand who it is. How could she see a different reflection on the other side, how is that even possible? She asks herself is she is even awake, but she knows for a fact that she is. The woman on the other side of the mirror looks dead. She looks like her, but 50 years older. Her skin is wrinkled and dry, her hair grey, her eyes glassy. Around her neck is tied a rope, of which she could not see the end. The girl closes her eyes in terror. When she opens them, what she sees in the mirror is her reflection, the reflection of her normal self.

She very well knows what all of this means. Is it her brain sending her a message? Or some spirits? It does not matter, she got the message. She needs to break free from this life. This daily routine is not bringing her anything good. Every day is the same and every single second she spends here only reminds her of how miserable she is and of the past times she will never get back. Idleness is Death, that is what she got from the woman in the mirror. She needs to do something about it, she knows it. She needs to leave this life which cannot bring her anything good anymore. What she needs is a new life, far from here, very far, if she does not want to end like the image of death she had seen. She would not be going to work today. Not today, not ever again. She packs a small suitcase, takes her car and drives to the airport. She does not care about leaving everything behind, there is nothing left for her here. And so she books tickets for the country she had always dreamed of going to. She would worry about the consequences later, for now she is just moving away. A new life is waiting for her. A fresh start, far from all the bad memories. Waiting at the airport, a warm feeling shakes her whole soul. Hearing the boarding announcement, she smiles. 

***

(C) Copyright 2014 Hope Alexander aka David Giroux for the text

Source for the picture unknown