Tuesday, May 17, 2011

What End

Thunder breaks and my eyes open. I see the corner of the east side of my room. The west side. The bathroom. Nothing is concealed in this room. Getting up, I examine myself in one of the mirrors. It is as I expected, nothing has changed. Putting on my coat, I leave.

Outside is dark. What woke me up seems to have passed. I know my position. Any area, every space. Or do I? The hole in front of me proves otherwise. How it have eluded me, a simple hole? I should know everything.

Jumping, however, is ridiculous in my current condition. I would most likely shatter my legs on the landing because of all the extra weight. Bound by limitations, I climb down the hole. I hit bottom after 10 feet. A smell that is not one single smell smells. My sight has been taken by the darkness. If I had come during the day, I would have had light from above. Unfortunately, I didn't. Reaching into my coat, however, I pull out a lighter. As I flick the switch, the smell of well-cooked meat dilutes the smell from this place. Looking back, I remember when I last pulled this lighter to cook meat when I was in the jungle. I didn't have time to make a fire but the past is the past. The flame illuminates the the water, giving the river a reflective glisten. There is trash in the water with clumps of floc. 8 feet across the water, there is another path that runs parallel to the one I am currently on. If I had to, I probably couldn't reach it because the water could hold dangers unknown to me. Walking left of my entry point, east on a map, I notice that this underground area follows the street. This area, however is not that simple. There are holes at spots in this tunnel. Each hole corresponds to a building on the surface. A noise comes from one of the holes. Startled, I motion closer with one hand inside my coat, the other holding the flame forward. Impure, murky water gushes out of hole and enters the river. This place is a sewer. Shaking my head, I revel in my stupidity. I had forgotten sewers it seems. What else?

Moving back to my entry point, now shining with light, I hear a noise. It's not quite the same as waste from a building. It more like a swishing noise through water. Stranger still, it was quiet and coming from the river. Grabbing the same handle as before with one hand, I etch cautiously towards the sound. Suddenly, a reptilian creature erupts onto the path. A perfectly tossed knife only blinds one eye causing the alligator to hiss in anger. As it attempts to retaliate, more knives pierce its flesh and before it can reach me, its legs give. Retrieving and wiping each knife with my disposable wipes, I examine my 9-foot foe. It'd be a shame if I just left it here. Pulling out a much longer sharper blade, I detach the head and kick the body into the water; the teeth might be useful and no sense in leaving a rotting body on concrete. Head under one arm, I climb up the ladder.

When I reach the top, I shield my eyes. The brightness, it burns. Upon entering the Watershed Heights, I notice the faint trail that the dripping head has left behind. Normally, such a trail would be wiped. In this town, a little blood probably wouldn't raise any alarm. Then it hits me; there are people here. Not for me though. For the fountain, the broken thing that served as a center of sight. But now it works. Too many people; I must leave. Carefully, I make sure no blood follows me into Watershed Heights. When I enter my room, I toss the head into the sink and enter the bathroom; the stench on me is only mildy annoying but unappealing nonetheless.

Getting out of the shower, I hear a rumble, a growl, similar to the alligator's. Has something come for revenge? Another growl breaks the silence; this time, I notice the source, my stomach. Should I cook some alligator? The head can't have much meat though; it'd be a waste of energy. I reach into the cabinet a grab out some poptarts, which have 360 calories for two and the perfect blend of carbs and sugars to refuel me. I freeze. Gunshot. And not just any gun, an m-16. Somehow I just know the sound. Why? It came from right above me. Putting on my coat, I open a mirror and walk up.

Peeking, I see a man. He's holding an m-16. It's that crazy guy I saw before talking to himself. He's doing the same thing, talking. Waving his gun, he looks so familiar.

"Him. We want Him." On the screen in front of me is a man. With a rough, battered look and his rifle, the man looks like a veteran. My eyes stayed on the target while they spoke."More importantly, we want him alive. Bring Him back upon discovery of his whereabouts." Turn to face them, I replied "Understood."

Him. It's him. I need to get him. But how? He's crazy. Worse, he's got an m-16. Those two things should never be associated. As I crawl up, my hand shifts a pebble. More like a rock. That slingshot. Perfect. All my other tools would have killed him or made a mess. Positioned, I take aim but his movement are unreadable. Even worse, he's been visualized by officers. Why are did they respond so fast? I need to get going, before this escalates into an inescapable situation. I take my shot. He shot first. Not me but himself. His body falls.

Mission Failed.

Monday, May 9, 2011

What pie

It's the eight floor. There is an aroma coming from my window. It is that freshly baked smell that comes from a just made pastry. Enticing. Attractive. I see a light in electrical emptiness. People are coming like flies to a venus flytrap. But I am a fly too, so jumping on the bandwagon is no suprise. After checking my space and grabbing my jacket, I take my leave to the diner.
Outside, on the ground, the smell is much stronger and the people number greater than I saw. The line is as expected, long. Is the wait worth it? I count thirty six people in the dinner. Policemen are jumping the line. Thankfully, the diner had some size, those loose objects on their possession were in the range of none. In any case, I was prepared; metal detectors would not have caught me. A man stands dazed in front of me. He is at the front of the line. After he leaves, I order a cookies and cream pie, sugars seem to be more appealing to my diet as of late. Once I recieve my pie, I take a seat at the same table as the man I saw before. I savor every last bite of my pie.

Friday, April 29, 2011

What to eat

I am in a diner. Doors are located 15 feet and 10 feet from my location. These doors are exits. My body is slightly weighted, carrying a burden I had not for a long time. Why? Danger is the last thing on my mind. The waiter comes to me but I notice a man on the streets. He stumbles onward into the building. Without noticing the strange man, the waiter recalls my attention to my order. I want a burger, some fries, some onion rings, some water. Caloric intake unknown. This might be my last meal. The waiter recalls with a smile and strides toward the strange man muttering to himself the entire time. The smell of cigarettes and liquor entered my senses, this man had a troubled past. Either that or he was an alcoholic smoker. The prior could be problematic; there are many strange people.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

What should I do

I look outside. I can see everything. Everywhere. Everyplace. Maybe that's why I picked this place. Maybe it wasn't because this room described how many rooms were in the building. I can see something happening. I can see a woman move look down and away from some other people. They are carrying a black box. Everyone uses this box. Should I stop them? I look out again. There is nothing to do around here. My legs push me forward.

Who am I

What happened? The ground feels cold but gravity keeps me here. I remember a knife. I threw that knife. Here, at the target. As I rise, I see an object lying on the counter. In my hands, it is a v-shaped piece of wood with another piece coming down from the vertex. There is an elastic material reaching across the v. It is a slingshot. The knives I threw were still in the target. At least one of them was. The others were in each other. There is a roar. I can see flames. The food trailer is on fire. The closer I get to it, the more familiar it seems. But there is a man grinning as he passed the fire. It almost made him seem responsible. "There's something wrong. We can't stop it." The speaker is in a chair wheel a steering wheel with 146 buttons. There is a force pulling us down and I know this isn't good.

Thursday, March 10, 2011


It's not a circus, it's a carnival. There are 34 stands here. Each step in the blinding sun makes me nauseous. I don't know where I am but there is a dog. He's just walking around a restuarant. EPIPHANY! The Vietnamese restuarant. That is where I am. What am I doing here? I need to go to that circus. No, the carnival. What's wrong with me today? Stumbling on the street, I among my way to the circus. In my dazed state, I walked and was approached by unintelligible carnis saying something about something that I needed to pay to do something. The rides all looked run down. There are spastic bumper cars, not like they all cease functioning, but rather they randomly stop individually. The Ferris wheel is just as spontaneous, losing mobility before every full rotation.
Left, right, forwards, right, left, forwards, right, back. Once again I'm lost but I have reason to be; I don't yet understand the frame of this circus. Seeing my confusion, a carni walks up to me again. He tugs at my sleeves with pleading eyes. As I'm positioned into stand, I see the target. It looks to be 15ft away. That can't be right because the booth extends further. Now I see. There are mirrors, which serve to shorten the actual distance. I'd judge it to be 30ft. The mirrors must be covered in plexiglass, they'd break so easily otherwise. The whole design is just a ploy to scam some money.

As I am just thinking, the carni just takes the 3 dollars in my hand and hands me three knives in return. What's wrong with the knives? Nothing. There's just a faint memory lingering on them, a feeling of uneasiness. Why can't I remember? I want so hard to remember. There is only one thing to do. I take three quick throws.

"Good job Hiroshi, excellent shot as ever," says the man on my left. "It's whatever," I reply. "We need to send you out sometime, a job might help hone your skills," says the man on my right. "Sure," I say. "I heard about this place called Watershed Heights," says the man on my left.

Everything goes black.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

What Wonders

Dark. I can't see. Why can't I see? This world is simply nothing...What's this? The light, it burns. Reality hurts, so I shift in my bed to compensate. Yet, inevitably, I walk over to the counter for some cereal. Outside looks odd, murky, gloomy, actually it looks terrible. Sigh, I have to go out again, they want me to for what good is doing anything without a purpose?
I've noticed someone strange, however, I do not consider him a threat in anyway. He is just kinda strange, that magician guy. Its been a long time since I've heard the word magic. Well, it doesn't exist. Don't people recognize that cold, hard logic is a real description of how things work. As I study his behavior, I'm not quite sure he doesn't notice me. If he doesn't, someone is. I need to hide again. No time, I have to move. Stop thinking, react. Why can't I stop thinking? Up ten steps, down 5 steps, up 12 steps, down 6 steps, up 9 steps, and down 5 steps. Nothing really matters. I'll take a walk.