Sleep - Short Story

[deadpie]

This isn't finished, but you can read it if you want to. Maybe I'll update it if anyone's interested. Also, regular warning that some parts of this have dark humor, so don't read if you're easily offended, or do because I like it when complain about things I spend hours working on.

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Sleep


I -

The floorboards are cracking and the walls are disintegrating in front of my eyes. A man on the other side of the room is posing like Jesus on the cross with a devil like smile. From the outside of the house a blackened fog breezes inside and my body shivers. Everything is black except this orb like thing in front of me, which seems even blacker than the blackness of the fog itself. I reach for it, but cannot grasp it.

And then it all came back; I’m standing in the kitchen staring blankly at a bowl cereal on the island that my mom is eating from. She looks over to me and asks blatantly, “Did you take your codeine yet? Don’t forget that we’re getting coffee afterschool.”

I answered back to her, “Already took it. Stop bugging me about that.”

My ass itches horribly and my yawns seem to be stretched into fifteen second breathe outs. The reason I take codeine is because I’m a narcoleptic. Even though I have no choice to take it, the shit doesn’t work that well. Two days ago I fell asleep in the middle of the hallway.

The thing about people with narcolepsy like me is that it only takes ten minutes to enter REM sleep mode. A normal person would usually take about an hour to an hour and a half. This means I almost start dreaming immediately.

Mom walks over to me and nudges her hand through my hair and I push her back violently. She knows that she’s obviously invaded my comfort zone, than pulls her car keys out of her jacket and says, “We should get going.”

Both of us made our way to the garage and when I got inside, I immediately pulled out an album from under the seat. Every school day I force my mother to listen to Avant Garde classical music with me. Today I think John Cage fits the mood.

Once we’ve pulled up to the school I grab my backpack, throw it over my shoulders, and get out of the car through the window just to piss my mom off more. She speeds off when I’m halfway to the door as if that would prove her hatred for me.

I can’t blame her though. I would hate huge medical bills too.

-Ran to the restroom and immediately starting pissing out in the stall. I let out this loud; “AHHHH” just to let everyone around me know that I was enjoying myself. When I looked down at my dick, I noticed that my urine was purple. Slowly, the color lightened into clear piss. Once I finished, I immediately zipped up and got the fuck out.

I got out to the hallway and texted ChaCha “Is it normal to piss purple?” If this is some machine, then it probably wouldn’t be bothered by the question. But I could easily see some guy from India just randomly stumble upon the question going, ‘The fucking fuck?’

Of course it’s not normal. Not even ChaCha thinks it’s normal. For a second I thought about telling the nurse, but that would be pretty embarrassing. Thing is, I do need to visit the Nurse before class starts.

When I got inside, this pretty ass whore was sitting down next to the fat fuck Nurse’s desk. She had nice tits and decent sized fingernails, along with beautiful blonde hair. Thing is she was too tall for me, so If I ever wanted to attempt to kiss her I’d need a fucking barstool.

The female pulled her cellphone out of her bra and said, “So what are
you here for?”

“Just to check my BS.”

“Your bullshit?”

“No, my blood sugar.”

I’ve had type one diabetes all my life and I’ll just say it’s not a pleasant thing to have. If you didn’t know that, than you’re probably dumber than Jim from sixth grade who flashed his dick to the art teacher. Now if you put narcolepsy and my diabetes together, they make a good solution for the solution called, “Fucking bad”. It’s hard to really keep your eye on your blood sugar when you’re always falling asleep randomly during the day.

For the past month I’ve been having pains in my kidneys and I’m pretty sure that there’s either a gigantic worm living inside me or I’m going to go under kidney failure. Your kidneys can only take so much of this shit.

“That’s cool”, the girl replied back to me. “I’ve got pre- lung cancer from smoking too much cigarettes.”

Fuck, her saying that word made my hands start to shake. I stopped smoking about two weeks ago, mainly because mom didn’t like the smell in my room even though she’s a chain-smoker herself. Funny, I guess she just doesn’t want me to turn out like her. That must be really depressing to hold onto one’s conscious.

Nurse is still in the restroom, probably taking a dump. I look back over to the girl and ask, “So what’s your name again?”

“Eve. I know it sounds like a slutty religious name. You seem like a John or Preston.”

“Actually, my name’s Scott; Named after my father’s friend. It’s quite an interesting story how I-“

My body started to limp, started growing lightweight. Eve ran over to me and my eyelids started to shut. When you start to fall asleep this fast, it seems like you’re kind of floating or coming closer to death. Then the blackness takes over.



Eyes wide open.

Across from me is this man with long black hair at a dinner table. He looks about thirty years old and ye’ bit skinny. We’re outside somewhere in an open corn field. The sky is gray and looks like it could rain any second now and the weather isn’t too cold. The man unfolds a napkin with silverware wrapped inside of it and starts cutting at this huge piece of stake just sitting there on this wooden table.

“Who the fuck are you”, I asked vaguely. “And where the fuck am I?”

“My name is Damien. It’s nice to meet you too!”

He sliced a small piece of the steak and bit tenderly on it while seductively looking at me. A fly about the size of an acorn landed on my hand and I jolted out of my chair screaming like a fucking cunt. The man pointed his fork at me and chuckled, “That’s my darling Beelzebub. Don’t worry, he won’t bite.”

“You didn’t answer my second question.”

The man slammed his fork into the table, stood up and walked over to me. “This is an alternative universe. You’re on the planet Earth. Only twenty years ago did this planet go under a global reset and I had to take control of it.”

“What the fuck is a global reset? What the fuck are you even saying?”

“A global reset is when the world ends. I guess some of you call it the Doomsday or Apocalypse. See, once the world has come to an end, everything goes back to stage one just to determine in the rules of humanity will change over time.”

I backed away from him and bumped into someone from behind me. It was him, except this time a snake was crawling down his right arm. The obvious reason for this all is that it’s a dream. If I’m able to realize it’s a dream, then I can control this dream. That means I can also wake up faster.

“This is a fucking dream”, I told him. “Once I’ve woken up, I’ll have my mind thinking about that pretty girl in the Nurse’s office. It only takes ten minutes for someone to forget their dream. I’m sorry, but you’re just a fabrication of my fucked up imagination. Maybe you’ll come up in another dream, but for now, I have to go.”

Damien busted out laughing at me. His laugh seemed to echo out loud through the sky and clouds. I closed my eyes and thought about escaping this field, but I couldn’t. The darkness of the sky was lowering above our heads and thickened the humidity in the air. My body started sweating and I looked down at my pants as I felt something wet come down my legs. I just pissed myself.


Eyes wide open.

[deadpie]

II -


My pants are soaked with warm piss and the school nurse is looking straight down on me when I wake up. Holy fuck, my head aches like shit.

“Don’t worry”, she says. “We still have that other pair of pants of yours we’ve kept here just in case of something like this.”

Actually, it’s normal for sixteen year old teenagers to wet themselves if they’re diabetic, according to my Doctor. He told me that a year ago when I brought it up to him. It seems like allot of fucked up things that happen with me are quite normal. It’s normal to want to punch your nurse in the face when she tries to pull your pants down for you. I push her hands back off my jeans and mumble, “I can take my pants off myself. You just get my other pair.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I gave you your insulin while you were asleep. Do you want to use the shower inside the bathroom?”

No, I want to have my urine dry up on my legs so I smell worse than your daughters yeast infection. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

She goes into this bucket in one of the cabinets that has my name. I inspect the room looking for the cancer girl, but I’m pretty sure she’s busy telling fifty people some short kid died in front of her or whatever. That sounds kind of typical.

The nurse tosses me my pants and a pair of boxers and I slowly walk to the restroom. The feeling of sticky piss doesn’t feel that comfortable, in case you didn’t know. I make sure the door is locked before stripping down and getting in the shower.

I’m quite sure that I’ve fell asleep at any horrible timing of the day. My parents thought it would be a good idea to give me driving lessons once. I did pretty well the first couple times, but a few months ago when I was on the freeway I fell straight to sleep, flipped the car over and my mom broke her arm. My parents were the ones that got in trouble though. It should be obvious to not let your son drive without a license - Especially if he’s narcoleptic.

Small pieces of shame fill at my guts as I start wanking off to cancer girl inside of my head. I’ll probably never see the sexy bitch again.


“Scott”, a voice raddles in my ears. “Earth to Scott. Are you awake?”

Mother hands me my coffee and I jab it from her hands like a maniac as we look for a place to sit inside the monstrous sized starbucks. We sit down at a table, but its close by these buff skinheads looking guys that look like they could possibly be gay. Not saying I have a problem with gay people, but gay Nazi’s are a little scary to be by.

“So how was school today?”

Ugh, that stupid question parents always say to pretend they give a fuck. I sip off my caramel macchiato, which also has whip cream in it, and then look over to the right. Something about this place makes me feel strangely paranoid, like as if I know that I’m going to die in here somehow.

“Other than embarrassing myself in front of this girl with nice tits”, I mumble. “It’s been alright. Mondays usually are quite shitty, so it’s not like I should keep my hopes up high expecting something good to come out of this. It’s kind of like Transformers Two. All my friends were seeing it, but when I saw it, I was like, ‘This movie is fucking dumb’.”

“You should really work on keeping your language less vulgar. I don’t have a problem with it, but once you get a job, they might not accept that type of language.”

“Don’t speak to me about language. I’m a sixteen year old ready with only three classes left to finish before I graduate. You know what that means? I’m a fucking genius. People should be worshipping my shit.”

“See, that’s your ego kicking in.”

Rage is engulfing all my emotions and pure hatred runs through my caffeinated blood. I gulp half of my coffee down and reply, “I don’t have an ego, bitch. I’m like, the most un-egotistical person on this planet. Fuck, I’m only five foot tall and look like four years younger then what I am. The fact that I’m having to quit cigarettes just makes me feel less confident about myself for some reason and I don’t even feel human anymore without my daily dose of nicotine.”

Silence. Mission a-fuckin-complished.

“I keep having these random memory blanks. It almost feels like I’m jumping through memories of the day quickly without actually doing them, but I remember doing them. Is this a symptom of insanity?”

Mom shakes her latte to check if it’s empty, puts it down on the floor, and crushes it with her shoe. “Don’t worry, Hun”, she says. “You’ll be seeing your doctor in a couple days and you can tell him all about your nonsense.”

One of the gay Nazi’s looked like he was staring at me. A long yawn passed by and I realized I was getting tired quickly. “We should get home. I’m getting tired and I don’t want to just fall asleep in here.”

“Alright, but when we get home you’re telling me about this girl with nice tits you told me about earlier.”

I rush out of the starbucks trying to get as far away from the creepy Nazi’s as possible. Weather seems a bit colder than before and the clouds have that apocalyptic grey color to them. Cold weather always makes me tired. My legs start wobbling and I keep myself up by holding onto the car door, waiting for mom to catch up and let me in. The sound of the doors unlocking went off and I plowed my way into the car. I buckle my seatbelt, and roll my head back and forth trying not to let sleep take over.

Most dysfunctional teenagers have insomnia. I would kill to go days without sleeping. Unfortunately, I find myself falling asleep at the worst times possible, but never being able to sleep during the night. Once my body decides it wants to sleep, I don’t think there is much control over it. I have to obey my mind. That makes me kind of feel like I’m not even my own self. I feel like my personality is split into, like another consciousness outside of my rebellious brain. Both wage war every day, but sleep always wins. It’s only a matter of time when my kidney’s give out and death wins.

“Still awake”, mom asks me. “At least I don’t have to have you play your weird music the way home.”

Bricks tied to my eyelids pull me farther down into the realm of sleep. Everything is black and I can feel my skin tingle as I rise out of myself and sink lower into the seat.


“We meet again, my friend”, a familiar voice says. “It’s been five years here, but only six hours for you. You still remember me from your previous dream, right?”

“Motherfucking fuck!”

It’s Damien again. Except this time we’re sitting down at a desk in this gigantic library. The shelves are as tall as skyscrapers and my curse words echo out through the place. He’s wearing this black leather jacket and that fucking snake is back crawling on his arm again.

“This is something I like to call the gallery of existence. Every book in this place contains each memory, thought, event, and so on from the beginning of time from every universe. You know that there’s an infinite amount of universes? There are trillions of planets with living forms in each of those universes spawning quad-zillion beings every second. So this place only grows larger and longer. A magnum opus of humanity and everything in between if I may say.”

“Now that I know that I’m dreaming, I’m going to leave”, I say. I try to push myself up from the chair, but it’s like my ass is just glued down. The fucking bee is buzzing around my head again and now it’s the size of a fucking soda can.

“Doesn’t this place interest you? Even if it isn’t real, although I promise you it is, aren’t you somewhat interested in learning about some of it? Now we may think that we’ve just lost some memories after years of aging, but they’re actually stored into our brain. Unfortunately, humans aren’t allowed that much access to even their own brains. Only ten of it is given and your civilization says the other ninety percent is completely useless. Well, they’re just not thinking outside the box, are they?”

“Look, this is interesting and all, but I really want to leave.”

Damien snaps his fingers and the chair I’m sitting in vanishes into thin air, leaving my ass slamming down to the concrete floor.

“I could show you memories you’ve lost here”, he went on. “Or better yet, I could show you your future.”

“My future is pretty obvious”, I reply. He looks strangely at me as if he’s concerned about my choice of words. “I’ll end up dying of kidney failure or head trauma from randomly falling to sleep and bashing my head on something. So what? Everyone dies. Get this dude – I’m not interested.”

He looks quite disappointed now. Not like I care though. Well, I’ll start caring if he appears in another dream of mine, but I’m pretty sure third is the charm for something less wacky.

Suddenly, I can feel a stinging pain in my legs. I look down to see my body from waist down disintegrating into the dust. Screams fill my aching lungs and it feels like someone had split my stomach wide open and started dumping my organs out. I can’t even see myself now when I look down. Shit, am I about to fucking die?

I’m definitely dead now.



Sheets of my bed tucked in. Sun is peeking out from clouds throughout my window and the clock says its seven thirty. A full pack of cigarettes still sits on my night stand. I could easily finish that pack before school starts tomorrow, but my health is already bad enough as it is.

I stand up, scratch my ass and walk out of my room through the hallway to hear the sound of the television. Nobody is in the living room, but the TV is still on. I make my way to the kitchen and find a note on the fridge that says, ‘Your father and I are going out on a date. If there’s anything you need, make sure to not call us under any circumstances.’

‘Go fuck yourself’ I yell to myself, grabbing the note and tossing it as it floats down slowly. By the kitchen counter is my test kit. Finger pricking really sucks when you end up hitting a nerve in your finger, but other than that, it’s not that bad. When stupid whores whine about how horrible shots are, it really bothers me. Hey bitch, I have to shove four to six syringes in my side every day.

Blood sugar level is normal, so I don’t have to worry about anything for a while. I run out to the garage, grab my skateboard, and skate down the neighborhood.

You’re probably bothered by the fact that I skate. Like as if every person that skates has to listen to shitty blink 182 and have extremely long greasy blonde hair. Well, first off, I started skating because my first father gave me a board before he died. Now that probably sounds like the average tragedy how-I-became-a-world-famous-skateboarder- story, but don’t worry, I don’t plan to do anything interesting with my life but just die. So I decided that because I never appreciated his existence, I guess I should start using this as a beginner.

And I don’t like Blink 182, by the way.

Finally, I pull up to the skatepark looking to finish off my boredom without jerking off to shitty porn with Hawaiian music for the soundtrack. Although, I have to admit the OST for The Sex Files was quite good, also known as the parody of The X Files with sex craved aliens.

I usually find a place by myself or somewhere with not many people to skate at. The more thirteen year old my chemical romance fans close by the harder it is to breathe. I go over to this pipeline and of course, out of all people to just randomly pop out of the blue at a time like this, is cancer girl.

“I was wondering if I was ever going to see you again”, I say to her. She takes a drag off her cigarette, offers it to me, and I blindly give her the, “Trying to quit.” She probably thinks I suck dick now.

“I have to say, I was scared and excited at the same time when you fell to the floor. ‘Nurse told me that you have a serious case of narcolepsy. You wouldn’t believe how long I stood there laughing when she told me that. Don’t worry though; I still think you’re cute.”

Holy fuck. She thinks I’m cute? Does this mean I get to possibly fulfill my tie-the-girl-up-to-my-bed –while-wearing-scream-costume-and-fuck-her-madly fantasy? Probably not. By cute she must mean, ‘you’re so short and somewhat angsty that I could hug you for eternity!’ That means she would never have sex with me. I should go hang myself in my closet right now. Actually, self-erotic asphyxiation sounds nice right now.

“We should start a club for dying people.”

“Well, everyone is dying slowly”, I respond. “Do you mean for people like us?”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant smart allec.”

“Sounds good to me. Except it should be something like a suicide club where we all jump off a roof at the same time. I saw that on a movie off of youtube. I think it had a decent grade on Rotten Tomato’s.”

“Good to know.”

Now I know she’s sick of me. Why the fuck do I have to change discussions and dwell into fifty other subtopics? There goes my chance of even getting a hug from her. I came here to skate off boredom, not waste my time with a girl who could care less about my existence. Now it’s time to jump the shark and be a complete fuckface.

“Are you even real”, I ask her. “You aren’t some hallucination in my head, are you?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m real.”

That means nothing. “Alright, well can you prove it?”



Everything is dark and I feel like I’m in a basket of clothes. I don’t think I’m drunk, but I do have a throbbing headache. I reach a hand over to push open a door which notes that I’m in my closet. Why the hell am I in here again?

Another blackout. That’s the only explanation. I can’t remember the gap between seeing cancer girl at the skatepark and me being here right now. It feels like someone had just gone inside of my head and erased an hour of my life.

I head out to the kitchen in search of food. Tonight’s contestant is Spaghetti-O’s with artificial meatballs. It’s only eight thirty and my parents aren’t back, so why don’t I just treat myself to some champagne while I’m at it? I mean, I’m all alone by myself lonely as fuck, so why not.

Huh, something’s in my pocket. I pull it out and see a number, written down. It must be cancer girl’s number. Maybe she’s interested in me now. Or this could be about her interested in creating the suicide club I have plan.

I open the microwave before the timer goes off, just in case, and rush over to the table as my fingers burn off. Luckily, I didn’t have to drop the bowl, because then I’d spend the rest of the night licking it all up. I’m not the type of person who likes to let his one dollar canned food go to waste, if you know what I mean, which you don’t.

The fog is back. I can see it coming from the hallway, channeling its energy to my thoughts. My arms are restrained from moving and my legs feel like they’re going to snap. I want to scream but my throat is too dry. It fills through the kitchen with the pearl blackened stars staring down at me.

And now I realize that this is not a dream, but a hallucination. The fog clears out into thin air around me and I go to grab my champagne as if nothing happened, because truly, nothing did happen.

It’s simple: I’m losing my fucking mind.

[Kiko]

I like it, it's a good and easy read. I like how the main character is really fucked up yet still lovable. ‘you’re so short and somewhat angsty that I could hug you for eternity!' Made me laugh out loud :P

[TheMatrix]

Pretty good.

[Maverick]

You're a pretty talented writer, Tim. I look forward to more.

[Magus]

Good as always, miT. Nice read.

For those who are not sure about Narcolepsy.
l2x14qETS7E

[deadpie]

III -


“You opened a bottle of champagne without asking me”, my mother says. “And you forgot to do the chores I told you to do.”

Chores? I don’t remember any list of things to do around the house. Champagne? Oh, that’s right. That’s why I’m sitting here at the kitchen table. Half of the Spaghetti-O’s were gone. So I must have fallen asleep here.

A sudden pain comes to my side and I fall out of my chair, screaming out for help. It feels like someone was jabbing a blade inside of me repetitively. There are people who can light themselves on fire and not say a single word. But this pain cannot be stopped, not even by daydreams of unicorn fucking in rainbow land.

I yell at my mom, “What the fuck are you doing looking at me? Call the fucking police you stupid bitch!”

She stands above me and laughs, morphing into that of Damien. The pain stops, but once again, I cannot move myself to escape.

“The reason some people experience pain in dreams is because the pain is actually happening outside of it too”, He says. “You’ve gone under kidney failure. You’re not feeling any pain because that’s the painkillers kicking in. Not only that, but that special champagne your mother had that you opened actually had a special ingredient inside of it? Want to guess? Ginseng. Yeah, the only thing you’re actually allergic to. So now you just hit two nails right into your fucking coffin. You’ll probably die in an hour, unless you do me a favor.”

This isn’t happening. Every day of my life I’ve spent trying to get over my father, fighting my health, and all the schoolwork – it was all for nothing. This is a pointless life with an obvious sour ending.

I’m released from his control and I stand up to him replying, “Well, what do you want me to do? That should be the obvious question.”

“Save me”, he answers back quickly. “I’m at your school, just in a younger body. If you find me, you’ll have to try to convince me not to kill myself. By this Friday I will have blown my head off with a shotgun.”

“And how do you expect me to find you?”

“Eve.”


Eyes wide open.

“You opened a bottle of champagne without asking me”, my mother says. “And you forgot to do the chores I told you to do.”

What the fuck is going on? Why am I sitting here at the table again? I stand up and yell, “What the fuck?”

My mother vanishes into thin air in front of me. I look over at the table where neither my food nor the champagne bottle is there. Outside the window is the sunlight peeking in. Somehow, it’s morning.

I walk over to the living room where I see my mom flat out on the sofa drinking out of the bottle that I thought I was drinking from earlier. She turns her head and notices me saying, “Oh, I forgot you have school in thirty minutes.”

“I do?”

“You have school Monday through Friday, dumbass”, she argues. “What the hell is wrong with you? Ever sense dinner last night you’ve been acting strange.”

I itch at the back of my head which seems soar. This is quite normal because when I do fall asleep randomly you tend to hurt your head and kneecaps. Luckily, the house is nothing but carpet, which is a precaution my family was forced to take.

“To be quite honest, I don’t remember anything sense dinner. It’s like what I told you at the coffee shop – everything is just missing.”

The bitch isn’t listening to me. Why is it anytime I’m telling her about a life crisis of mine she’s not interested, but when she asks me what’s wrong she’s devoted for answers?

About ten minutes later she gets off her lazy ass and drives me to school. While walking through the hallway to the nurse’s office I remember that I forgot to take my codeine. If my mother didn’t leave any back up at the school then I’m seriously fucked and I’ll have to ask some junkie’s if I can buy meth from them so I can stay awake. Of course, that option is pretty fucking dumb.

The nurse isn’t in her office, but the cabinets are open, so I grab my bucket that has most of my medical stuff. Thank Satan, there’s a bottle of codeine with two pills left. I open it up, shove both in my mouth and swallow both without water. Yeah, what an awesome magic trick, as my mom would say.

I spaz out when I hear a voice say, “What in the hell are you doing?” Once I turn around I notice it’s the nurse and she apologizes, running over and hugging me. Her gigantic saggy old boobs bounce on my chest and I push her off me slowly to get her away.

“Uh, I forgot to take my medicine this morning, you weren’t here, so I decided to get it myself. Sorry if that’s a problem.” It’s not a problem; I just have to pretend to be a nice cute virgin boy that sings Christian rock songs so she doesn’t castrate me for digging in medicine without permission.

“It’s alright cutie”, she smiles. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not like I’m going to castrate you or anything crazy.”

Well…

“Hey kid”, some says behind my back. “You forgot to call me last night.”

I already know who it is before turning around. Cancer girl. Why can’t I ever remember anyone’s names? “Uh, sorry. My memory of last night is blacked out.”

Nurse probably thinks I’m an alcoholic now because I’ve been saying that for two weeks every morning. I grab my test kit from her, and then ask, “Do you know any guys at this school name Damien?”

She pulls out a pen and does this crazy awesome finger thing with it while thinking, “Uh…Maybe?”

I lick the blood off my index finger after taking my ‘bullshit’. “Yeah I know, it’s a generic question”, I mumble. “But it’s kind of important. I’m supposed to help him with some…cat dissection project?”

What the fucking hell am I even saying now? Her boobs are distracting me and I can’t even make a good excuse. Cat dissection? Where the fuck did that even come from?

“I know this one Damien. He’s our age, black hair, and talks allot about nihilism and necrophilia.”

The nurse turns around, probably trying to rephrase what she just heard. “Yeah, that sounds just like him.”

“If you want to know where he is, He sits in C Lunch at the table next to the Deli. Usually sitting in the chair with the words ‘Damien’s Spot’ written on it in sharpie.”

Is she some school seat geologist or something? Maybe she got a part time job as a janitor. No, girls that hot can’t be vacuuming the chip bags I toss around in the hallways.

Cancer chick walks up to me and gets a medicine bottle from the nurse. Topotecan. My guess is it’s what she takes for her pre-cancer or whatever. Lung cancer if I remember. But then why was she smoking at the skatepark? She must be quite careless about dying. Not saying I don’t respect that.

“You want to see something cool”, I ask. She looks over and I stick this syringe into my side, slowly pushing the insulin in. Unfortunately, she wasn’t shocked at all by this, unlike most girls I show this to.

“Why don’t you just get one of those insulin pens?”

“Because they’re expensive.”

She doesn’t respond, which is exactly what I was looking for.

Everything is silent now. Cancer girl is trying to talk to me but I cannot hear her. The once loud conversations roaming the halls had been shut off. My body felt like it was being pulled out of its own skin, but not in a painful way, but more of that of a euphoric way. That’s when I realized what was happening.

Why does this always have to happen in front of her?

Her arms grab onto mine and I can feel my outer body lift back into my inner self. Dying girl actually helped me from falling down. That’s funny because nobody ever stops me, even when they know. They just think, “Well, let’s just let him rest.”

“Thanks, even though it’ll probably happen again in ten minutes.”

“No worry”, she replies. Actually, I do worry. There are a thousand people walking down the hall that could stomp me to death without noticing I just dropped to the floor.

I leave the nurse’s office as the bell goes off, signaling me to get to first period. Luckily, I don’t get late for classes because of my Nurse pass and I only have three classes left in high school.

That sudden sinking feeling of walking into a full classroom comes in with everyone’s eyes pryed on me. Not like I give a shit about them, but it’s kind of disturbing. It just feels like something you’d see in a David Lynch film – thirty people staring at you in silence like robots. In the end, that’s all these people are at my school. They’re all robots; following their boring groups and trying to be as hip as possible, whatever the fuck that even means now.

Me? I fit in everything. Not because I do everything, but just because it’s easy to see what people like in a person, so I can just kind of push myself into their comfort zone.

I take my seat, which is in the far back left corner and pull out my pen to start digging at a hole in the middle of the desk. This is what I do every time I come to class. I don’t really need to listen to the teacher or anything because all this shit is common sense. If it’s a novel we’re working on then cliffnotes is really helpful. I do like books, it’s just I don’t like reading novels written on toilet paper by Ayn Rand.

This whole is very special to me because when I do fall asleep on it, the whole is able to fill up with my slobber. It’s great to just leave there, because I’m sure the next person to sit down is just like, “What the fuck is this sick shit?”

My head is resting on the desk and the only thing I can think about is being with the cancer girl. In my thoughts, she’s on my bed absolutely naked, I’m climbing to her, and of course, I fall asleep right on her chest and she tosses me off.

“Scott! Wake up or get out of my classroom!”

Did that bitch seriously just tell me to wake up? I put my pen back in my pocket and say, “I’ll remind you for the fourteenth time this month that I’m a narcoleptic. The nurse has even come down here to tell you that. How fucking stupid are you? Now just hand me my homework or whatever, then I’ll leave. At least participate in one tenth of your job. Or you could just go back to sleeping with students.”

The class ‘Ooooh’d’ waiting for her to fight back, but instead she grabbed a couple sheets of paper off her desk as I was about to walk out and handed them to me. I won this debate, but for some reason, I’m still not getting an ego boost. Why can’t I ever have any self-confidence?

Hallways are silent and completely empty. Its surreal moments like these that really creep me out – large empty spaces, dark hallways, corners waiting to be crossed, etc. A familiar face passes by me as I take a turn in the hallway and it clicks to me.

Damien?

I turn around and run back after him. “Are you motherfucking Damien?”

“Yeah. You wanting to buy something from me or what?”

“No, It’s just someone in this dream told me to-“

And right in front of me the guy disappeared. He just fucking vanished in front of my eyes without me even blinking.

“Sorry about that”, a voice says behind me. I turn around and he’s flat out on the floor. “you want to help me get up?”

I go over to him and grab his arm, but right as I lift him up I feel my own body fall backwards. As soon as I slam down to the floor the drowsiness kicks
in before any of the pain. In return, he dragged me up to my feet.

He asks, “Are you really that fucking weak?”

“No, I was about to fall asleep.” Seems like the codeine isn’t kicking in as much as I wished it would.

The hallway lights flicker and leaks and random leaks come from the ceiling. He sits down on the floor and says, “Sit down with me, boy! I want to show you something beyond your imagination. Have you ever seen the world fall apart and crumble before your eyes?”

“What?”

I sit down next to him anyways, not knowing what to expect of this. The hallway walls crack and water blows through the seeps in them, shooting out in all directions. He pulls a pair of glasses out from his pocket, places them on, and continues, “Many Christian believers believe that God sent a flood to blanket this earth. Now wouldn’t that be just beautiful to see from above your head?”

A flood from the hallway began speeding towards us, but some type of circular field protects us from getting wet. The walls are tumbling down and bodies roam the now destroyed school in front of us. Looking far enough I can see that this from beyond the school, because the school has already been destroyed by the flood.

“The world has come to an end. Everyone you ever loved or hated and those other useless human beings you don’t know are now dead. We’re the only ones left on this planet. Humanity is also doomed because the last two to survive both have dicks. Unless you have a secret vagina you’re not telling me about.”

“No, I don’t. What the motherfucking load of fuckity fuck is going the fucking fuck on?”

I can’t stop my body from shaking. My body feels so cold that it’s almost numb, but the heat from inside of me is all that’s warm now. There’s something inside of me heating up, like a torch embalming my body, but there is no pain in it, just strange warmth.

He puts on hand on my shoulder and whispers, “Are you ok?”

My eyes flinch to realize that I’m sitting in the cafeteria next to him and the cancer girl. They both stare at me like I’ve seen a ghost, but really, I’ve seen worse. Those few minutes just felt too real and it’s impossible to comprehend the madness of all those dead people choking on water above my head.

I stand up and say, “No, I’m not alright.” Damien tries to stop me from walking away, but after I’ve walked three feet, he knows that I’m not planning on coming back.

If this is insanity leading up to my death, then I want to be as far away as I can be from it. That means I don’t ever want to see Damien’s face again, whether he blows his head off with a shotgun or not.

[Kahn]

And right in front of me the guy disappeared. He just fucking vanished in front of my eyes without me even blinking.

Mind fucked.

I like it so far, wanting more. One thing, though, I already told you about the swearing. So much swearing. I think it deprives your talents. If you'd want to get something published, you'd have to use less of those words.

[deadpie]

If you'd want to get something published, you'd have to use less of those words.

Ever read American Psycho by Bret Ellis?

[deadpie]

IV -


“I don’t really know if I can prove my existence”, Cancer girl says. “But I’m pretty sure I’m real.”

“Yea-“ Wait, how the hell did I get here? I pull out my phone and check the date, but for some reason it says that it’s Monday. The last thing I remember before being here was walking away from Damien at the lunch table.

Is this a dream?

Pause time. Yesterday when I was talking to this woman I asked her if she was real, so when I got here she answered me. Maybe I’m actually in the past filling in the blank of a memory that I couldn’t remember, because maybe it never actually happened.

That makes no sense at all and sounds ridiculously dumb. I guess I’ll unpause now.

“I was actually going to leave a couple minutes ago before we started talking”, she announces. “Sorry. You can walk home with me if you want. I only live a mile away.”

“…Alright.”

At this moment I don’t know what to think or expect, but to just play along with whatever is going on. I’ll make sense of this…never.

I skate in large circles around her as she walks, trying to avoid falling out into the street at the same time. She lights another cigarette and asks, “How do you think people will react when you die, if you were to die anytime soon?”

Her question distracts me, resulting in me to almost fall off my skateboard.

“Uh, I don’t really know. My mother would probably feel bad for a couple days, but I could see her getting over it. Not the first time she’s lost someone. My stepdad wouldn’t care because he doesn’t even know how old I am for one. Who else? My friends might use it as an excuse to skip school for two weeks.”

She stops walking, falls down and pukes black shit all over the concrete. I was about to make the dumb ‘Are you ok’ comment, but stopped myself in time.

“Is that normal for you”, I ask her. “Do you want to me to go home? I understand if you don’t want me to see you like this.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You just puked your guts out.”

When she looks over to me, I can see blood drying onto her mouth down her chin. I step off my skateboard, holding it with one hand, and kneel down next to her. It seems pretty obvious that she’s hiding the fact that she is scared of death. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, although I just kind of expected this from her. She stands back up and points to a house, “That’s mine, right next to the purple painted house.”

Both of us race to her house, me using my skateboard and her running on feet. That’s when it clicks to me – why was she at a skatepark when she never even had a skateboard or bike in the first place?

This could be proof that she isn’t real. Just one of my minds forgetful defects in creating this sexy illusion with boobs.

Once I get to her door, she finishes her cigarette and tries scrubbing the blood off her with her jacket. “Do you want to come inside?”

“Actually, I think it’d be better if I didn’t.”

Shut up Scott! Why are you cockblocking yourself?

“Alright, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Let me give you my number before you go.”

She runs inside her house and I explore her garden in the front yard while waiting. A couple minutes later, she comes over handing me a slip of paper. I say, “Thanks”, and then skate off away from her.

I look both ways and then skate half way before skating halfway down the road. For some reason, I stopped and looked to my right, only to see a car slam right into me and flip me over it. I landed on my ass and an intense pain ran through my right leg. Holy fuck, it better not be broken. That would just make the falls worth when I do fall asleep.

Some teenager who looks my age steps out of the car, yelling at the passenger, “Shut the fuck up mom! If you weren’t bugging me about the fucking mirror we wouldn’t have hit him. Of course I’m going to fucking help him? Are you dumb bitch, I’m not going to do a hit and run!”

He walks up to me pulling out his wallet, then looks down at me, staring directly in my eyes. I was trying to see what the hell this guy was doing, but then he got down next to me, handed me the cash and said, “You have to save Damien. The only way for humanity to survive is if he stays alive, but if he dies, we’re all fucked.”

“I’m sorry, but what?”

The man walks away from me and I yell to him, “What’s your name?”

“It’s Tim”, he says stopping at the car door. “I created you in my head. Your God doesn’t know how your story will end, so he needs you to help make sure the flow of the story goes as planned.”

“What?”

He drives off from me and I pick myself up, trying to shrug off the pain. It’s not that bad actually. I’m not saying that to pretend to be tough and shit, but –



This lunch food tastes like shit. I flip over a piece of ham with my fork and try to fold it in fourths.

Damien puts a hand on my shoulder and asks, “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine”, I reply. “It’s just; I’m having these really strange dreams and blackouts.”

He doesn’t respond. My guess is he wasn’t listening, forgot, or doesn’t care. Eve pulls out a can of dip, stuffing a piece of the shit in the corner of her mouth. That’s something I could never get into, as much as I used to love nicotine. She spits out into a cup that was once for a slushi that I bought her. What she said in the lunch line ten minutes ago was that she didn’t have enough money to afford the slushi, so I bought her it.

As stupid as it sounds, I think she brainfucked me over to get that slushi.

I ask Damien, “How do you think people will react when you die, if you die anytime soon?”

Eve keeps an eye on me, knowing that I used her question on him. “My fathers would probably cry allot”, he answered. “My ex girlfriend might make a facebook group after me for my death. I don’t think there’s anything else to it.”

“Huh”, I mumble. “I’m pretty sure there would be more people who would care.”

He giggles to himself and pulls my plate away from me, eating the ham I had been playing with. I try to grab my plate back, but he slams his hand down at my hand and says, “I don’t give a shit if anyone cares. If I had it my way, I’d have everyone on this planet drown. Hell, wouldn’t it be nice to see a flood cover the earth while you sit down at the bottom of the ocean with a light bright enough to let you see every corpse that passes by? You understand how much I hate humanity?”

I move my hand away from my plate and look out far in front of me where I can see out in the hallways. And there, I see a familiar face – Tim. He’s staring directly at me, his arms folded, with a devilish smirk on his face.

My body lifts out of its skin once again and before I know it, sleep is starting to take over. My head is probably in a plate of mash potatoes now, but I can’t see anything in front of me. It’s like as if I’ve gone blind. I can’t scream because my lungs are filled with something like dust and I can’t move my arms or legs because it feels like millions of tiny pins are being stuck right in them.

Through this darkness is a light, and that light is something that I fear because I know what and who it is. This is the beginning of the dream. This is where the older Damien will come to me and say his words of wisdom.

The light is closer, but that’s when I realize it isn’t a person, but it’s me. It’s me shining, but running away from the darkness that’s sucking me in. The light that shines from off my skin thins out until the darkness has taken me whole.

I cannot see myself, but only hear my own voice scream.

[deadpie]

Also, I'm probably going to stop writing this soon due to lack of inspiration, motivation, or need. I mean, what's the point of writing a story if nobody gives a shit?

V -


A voice is mumbling from below me, somewhat of a faint echo. The voice is a female, but the cracks in her voice seem choked up, like she’s smoked too much cigarettes in her life.

A light shines down on the person below me, which reveals a stage floor. Other stage lights turn on from above me, which then I realize I’m standing on a cardboard cut of flames. These flames seem to be colored by crayons; orange, yellow, red, and even specks of green.

“Scott”, the female cries out. “Lend me your hand and save me of this disease. I cannot live with this much longer, for the pain is too much to take. Either you come forth with rescue or I split thee throat that holds thy cancer.”

Eve? Holy shit, I remember her name.

“What the hell are you doing down there? How the hell did we get here?”

My foot is pulled down by a hand that has torn through the cardboard. I kick back at the hand and jump out onto the stage, running towards her. Eve looks over to me and the first thing I see of her is this black hole in the middle of her neck. She brushes one hand across my face whispering, “You’re too late.”

Centipedes squirm out of her neck crawling up her face, entering through her eyes and nose, then making their way up to her ears. There’s too much shock for me to even attempt to scream; a fear that breaches beyond all surrealistic nightmares.

“She’s dead”, a voice calls out from behind me. I turn around, only to see the adult Damien once again. This is most certainly a dream and now that I realize it is one, it’s only a matter of time before I can convince myself to wake up and lucid my control over this.

I point at him and yell, “This is dream! I have control of it! Now I command you to disappear!”

Well, I’m making a fool out of myself in my own bedded thoughts. Control has never been there for me, not when you’re controlled by what you’re body needs. My life is nothing but being shackled to a machine of saw blades, ready to tear me to pieces at any moment.

“How does it feel to see someone you know die in front of you? Even though she’s never meant much to you other than a semen filled sock. But now she’s dead and nothing can ever bring her back to life. Don’t you wonder what Tartarus has in store for her; an infinite lake of fire of no remorse, but only excruciating pain for skin that cannot be destroyed? A life once lived, but cherished into the darkness, waiting to be tortured for eternity. That’s how it ends.”

“Fuck off”, I screech back at him. “There’s no Hell. This dream cannot prove it. You cannot prove anything. Even if you could, it could easily be my mind playing tricks on me or my thoughts dragging me closer into insanity.”

Damien blurts out laughing, and then walks over to the cardboard flames. As soon as he puts one hand on the prop it disappears, revealing a small box that was under it. He kneels down to pick it up, and then comes back over to me saying, “All the knowledge in the world is kept inside of this container. Wouldn’t you like to grasp the knowledge of the universe’s secrets? If you truly do believe your death is soon and your life will be for nothing, and then take this box. Let this wisdom give you meaning.”

I grab the box from his hands and reply back, “Fuck your knowledge. I don’t want to die knowing that my intelligence was given to me in my dreams by a fucking box. So fuck it all.”

He grins back at me as if he knows what my actions I plan to cause are going to be by just reading my tone of voice. I study this box, which looks like a silver rock with miniature diamonds inside of it, and then toss it across the stage.

A loud thump echoes out like whale’s singing from underwater. I can feel the echo itself pushing me from where I stood. Damien’s eyes hint of revulsion, scared of what is to come. He falls to the floor in tears screaming, “You bastard! You fucking ruined everything! I should have never given such a powerful object to such an angsty fucking child. Now universes will collapse, collide, and explode because of you. Everything and nothing will come together, forming a whirlpool of infinite destruction and broken reality.”

“This is a fucking dream you idiot! Actually, I’m the fucking idiot now for making myself believe that any part of this dream is possibly real. I won’t let all of this fucking madness take what I am from me.”

The skin of Damien’s face peels off like as if it was a mask, revealing the bones underneath, which are already disintegrating in front of my eyes. All of his clothes fall to the ground along with leftover ashes of his corpse.

Stage lights exploded individually in order from one side to another, clouding the darkness that I’ve known of before. There’s a difference between the darkness when you turn the lights off in your room in this type of darkness. In this version, you can feel and sense the emptiness around you, like a crowded room of ghosts. This darkness is that revealing no hope and sanity, no remorse for anyone in its path.

Those eyes, darker then black are in front of me, staring directly into my own pair of eyes. The shade of his pupils isn’t something I can describe; it’s far too descriptive and not possible for any other human then me to understand. Nobody can grasp the color itself.



A voice is howling out my name as colors fit together in front of me, revealing myself back into my own bed. My mother is standing above me and says, “Scott, what are you doing in bed? You have school today.”

Something is wrong about all of this. It’s not her, a, she looks completely normal. Well, she’s not normal, but I mean she doesn’t look any different than usual. I pull myself out of bed, falling to the floor in front of her. She helps pick me up to my feet and I immediately fall back down to the floor.

My body is weak. Every muscle is rebelling from doing what I want. My body feels like it’s on the edge of going numb, but there’s still that brink of pain sticking out everywhere on me. The pain isn’t bad enough to make me cry out, but it wouldn’t matter because I don’t know how to cry out right now. My body feels too inhuman to come back to taking control of it.

Then every muscle in my body spazzes and I’m uncontrollably shaking. I’ve hit myself in the face a couple times and my legs are pulling out as far as they can like as if they’re attempting to dismember themselves. The pain comes in, sharp and brutal stinging every part of my skin.

“Mom”, I scream out with all my energy. “Call the fucking cops! Fucking go you fucking fuck!”

Between the self-done punches to the face and jolts in my chest I’m realizing that this all real right now, that humanity is here and death is at the door pointing his scythe over towards me. Everything is slow motion when my mother runs out of my room. Right now, I can’t say how much I’d rather be dead then have this.

There’s a shaving razor by my dresser. If I can reach to it, just split my fucking throat right now I can end this fucking seizure and all the bullshit that will come after it. I reach a hand up trying to grab it, but knock over a glass of grape juice. The carpet soaks the purple in and the colors seem more real to me than ever before, like as if they’re sublime in their own way – telling me that everything becoming clearer because I’m coming closer to death.

I grab the glass and slam it into my own head, increasing the pain in that area, but it’s not as bad as the pain in my legs right now. My hands shake as I try to grab a piece of the shattered glass off the carpet.

Sirens. I can hear them already. They echo just like the noise when I threw that box. Does that mean these sirens aren’t here to save me?

My mother comes rushing back in and I try to force my legs up to kick her away, but they’re stuck to the carpet still trying to pull themselves off my own body. I get a good grasp on a long piece of glass and try shoving it to my neck, but instead stab myself in the shoulder. My hands uncontrollably hit me again in the face while I’m still holding the glass, which drags across my right eye. I can’t see shit out of it, but when I turn my head to the left blood starts pouring down into my left eye. Mom has ahold of my hands and they try to fight her back, but I can tell she’s using all of her strength to make sure I don’t hurt myself again; on accident or purpose.

Then instead of a darkness coming in, I see light. They say the reason that people see this light when they have a near death experience is because of lack of oxygen. The light itself is in no shape of a tunnel like most people say it usually looks, but just like I’m falling directly in a pool of white paint.

I climb out of my own skin through my unconscious, being consumed by the new and curious light. It’s blinding to look at, but not as bad as the darkness. I float in this white area of nothingness, but only to hear a familiar chuckling voice.

Damien.

He grabs my shoulder and turns me around to where I see him and whispers, “Wake up.”

The light falls apart into the darkness and Damien himself becomes part of the black itself. Once it all has been the darker shade of black it all clears back out and I wake up. I wake up to the sound of beeping machines and one eye looking over to my right to see an IV in my arm. There’s some sort of eye patch on my right eye. When I look over to my left side I my mother and Eve standing there staring at me. I’ve survived this all, but I feel as dead as ever right now.