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First attempt at a semi-serious story. Constructive criticism and compliments welcome
------------------
There was a gentle pitter-patter of rain on the street. The window had little droplets slowly making their way down it, speeding up occasionally in a mini-race to see who could reach the holy window ledge first. Number 3 won, giving one of the thousands of anonymous raindrops a small ray of light. One that wouldn't kill it through evaporation. And the day went on.
A TV was blaring in the front room of Ant's house, and if most of the neighbours were there, they would probably hear Lawrence-Lllewlyn Bowen compare contemporary to minimalist in yet another home 'makeover' show. Yeah, more like home destruction. Who the hell even watches them, except the unemployed, and the ill, and the old, and...ah, there's half the population then. Or at least, 'was'.
The radio of Grix could be heard somewhere up the road. It was loud also. Perhaps too loud, for the liking of some. but not too loud for others. A matter of taste you may say. But more to the point, the radio was playing, no-one was listening. Whether it was the fact that it was Radio 3, or that no-one was there to listen is irrelevant. They'd all gone.
The street was quiet. In fact, all the streets were quiet. Except for you. Just you, and no-one else, back here again. The whole city at standstill in that no-one was there to move. You walk around. No sound, no feeling. You jump, and slowly float to hit the ground. Perhaps it's a dream? Is it a dream? Only you know. What is it? Touch the air, you can. It shimmers at your fingers.
----
Blinking, tired, but ready for work, he left the house. The road was full of almost every type of person there was. The mother of twins was ushering them into a car. The father of the twins was telling them to keep their muddy shoes off the new carpets. The twins were confused, and simply cried. A business woman could be seen running down the road with toast in one hand, bus change in the other, and a steady stare on the bus driver who planned to drive away without her. A couple in love walked down the road, off to learn and to prosper, and to find out about his affair.
Tough break..
It was his turn to begin. Ethan straightened his clothes one final time, and left the house. Everything seemed normal, then again, who are senses to decided what's normal? The locking beeped, the lights flashed, and he got into his car. Nice enough, Audi TT, with his job, manager for somewhere... somewhere?
----
You don't know do you? See that sky? It's so dark. Think, see the shimmer..isn't it nice? So, what's you job? Don't know, or am I going too fast for you? Why are you letting me get you? This world is not good for you, you know that...but you like it..I'm in control..don't think anymore, just jump. Floating and hit, you fall again. Silly old you, whatever next. Go now, I wouldn’t want to d....
----
The traffic was packed on the roads. Just like yesterday. And tommorow. And Thursday. The sky was clear, or at least it was until the weekend, the the plans for the new underground were coming along well. Ethan had ir all, or at least, the simple mind process that made him think he had it all. Job, car, cash, Gucci suit, holiday away. The traffic didn't seem so bad anymore, and he got to work quicker than before.
The building was huge. An architect's masterpiece, and the new home of E. Threves Architectural (Planning and Design for a modern world). Mildy ironic how an architect didn't design his own building, yet at least the architect who did got a nice thing to put in his portfolio (along with a hefty pay sum). It was made of reflective glass, which could be strengthened or weakened at the push of a button. See the world outside, but the public will stay in wonderment. Ethan's idea of course. Then again, the bursts had been getting stronger.
The office in which he worked was an executive one. Leather chair, box of cigars (he didn't smoke, but it was 'all the rage' according to his partners) posh desk (or as posh as desks come) and various other pointless but nonetheless novelty executive items. Such as an (unneeded) stress ball, and a plasma ball. It would appear he had quite an unhealthy obsession with balls.
In the politest sort of way, of course.
He sat as his desk, and the others went by. Calls were made, contracts formed, people hired, people fired, receptionists harassed by other, lesser employees and designs created (by others..Ethan was above the work part of work). And through the day, he felt it coming again. The mindplay, the tricks of gravity and of light, th..
----
Hmm...what are you thinking? Touch the mirror, feel the surface. The music you hear is no trick, it is bent and unformed, a beauty in it's own right. You can hear it..how do I know? Because I can too. The mirror, touch it again. The music...could it possibly change the mirror's form? Touch the mirror..how does it feel now? Liquid? Don't listen to the music too much, it could be ba..
----
"Ethan....ETHAN!" shouted Jake. The other partner in the business. Or some sort of lesser partner. He could never remember.
He woke up hazed. And not sort of nice-nap hazed, but what-the-hell-just-happened hazed. But with on time to ponder over these now worryingly common experiences. Jake was still shouting, and got a good slap afterwards. But the subject of his ranting was the worrying point.
"The place..you know..over in London..it's falling!"
Ethan was still no more in the know. They'd designed lots of 'places' in London. The keyword was 'falling'
"What dya mean 'falling'?"
Jake really wanted to give a nastily sarcastic remark. But instead, a definition of falling in a disgusted tone would do.
"Falling - as in boom, kapeesh, going downwards - not generally good"
Ethan cringed at the thought. His buildings were perfect..
"How?"
Jake paused, trying to see how what he was about to say could be slightly more believable
Ethan was in anticipation to know. But something had other ideas.
----
You see that? It's all coming down. The world around him was falling..not just one building..You see Ethan? It's the world, crumbling..
"Who are you?"
Heh heh heh...I am you. Or at least, a part of you. Created by you to escape. Created by you to see things from somewhere else. Well this is somewhere else, isn't it
No sound..
ISN'T IT??? SEE IT ETHAN? I am the part of you you wanted but now hate. And I won't go away, oh no. Try and get rid of me, and I'll get rid of you first. I am you, and know what you think, because I was simply at first your thoughts. Don't try to escape. It'd be like trying to hide in open space. An impossible feat.
Don't try. Just listen..
----
London was packed to see what was happening. A crack in the ground had formed under one of Ethan's carefully designed buidlings, prepared for everything, that is, of course, when you read the small print, where it said 'Natural Disasters - Not Included'
Buggery!
The problem was not his, however, and it was natural. Anyway, the crack had seemed to had stopped growing, and work had already begun to fix it up. All would be well, even if much glass had been destroyed. And office equipment. And Ethan’s reputation. Meh.
Night was coming once again, and as he drove home, the lights down the streets hazed in and out of focus. In fact, most things hazed in and out of focus. He swore not to drink and drive...but he hadn't been drinking?
Ethan wondered what the hell was going on..some supernatural weird thing?
----
Nope...worse than that..You'll see...
----
Not one to believe in stuff 'like that', he put it down to tiredness. When home, some paracetamol were taking for his head, some food eaten to maintain some nutrition and bed seemed like quite a feasible option.
He woke up scared. No-one was there, as usual, as he lived alone. It was the dream, or reality, or alter-reality, or something, during the night that had frightened him beyond belief. He looked at his wrists..screams could be heard for houses around. He had experienced something beyond belief..but what?
His eyes closed for the night. The food he had just eaten got into his stomach, and it grumbled in thanks to Ethan. Ethan mumbled back to it. The lids now down, the dreams began. The body was asleep, but the mind was active. Too active. By much.
----
The sky was pitch black, and the stars and planets could be seen. Flashes of his life could be seen. The mind spoke..I am in control, I am your escape, I am you, and you are me. We aren’t apart ever, don’t escape, pensive thoughts are kept up here, I am not a hope but fear…Hahaha…
“I am you? You can’t control me! I control you” – Correction, you are weak, I am strong..you are mine, don’t try to go…it’s a wasteland.
I will show you my power.
2 slit noises could be heard.
Don’t…..try……and…….ESCAPE! I … AM ….. YOU!
The blood could be seen on the floor. Screams could be heard
----
Ethan put bandages on the wounds, wondering how he could control this thing that overcame him. What could he do? If he could slit his wrists…he could do more, and more, and…
He shuddered. It’s not possible. A figment of imagination is just that, imagination……right?
----
No
----
Ethan got back into his car. There seemed to be no escape from this creation..no escape whatsoever. He thought long and hard. The more he thought about it, the less it occurred, and he slowly formed a plan. If it could hurt him, and it was him, he could hurt it. He would have been hurt when hurting this part of me. There’s only one way to rid me of it..
----
Are you mad?
----
He was…as the plan formulated, he realised that what he thought went right through the other side of him. And he would try and stop it, at all costs, come hell or any other unlikely event. If he killed himself, the other him would go. If he killed himself, he would go too. But it’s the only way? It can’t be!
He began to get short of breath .. wheezing .. wheezing just like he did, when he was a child…
----
A young boy was playing in the playground. Well, he wasn’t really playing, as much as passing the time, being lonely. The other kids were far away from him. He was different, and the auto-child-thought-process dictated that he should be shunned before he was associated with a ‘normal’ kid. He was splashing in the puddles, a strained smile on his face, when the bell rang. The other kids went inside, whilst he had to go home. It was time for his … injection.
And then …. you created me. I was your friend. I was you and your friend, the perfect combination. You knew me so well because you had created me. We taled for hours on end, about things, nothing in particular. We laughed and had tears..the doctors called it schizophrenia, but no, it wasn’t, it was special. We could hear them…
‘This shot, twice a day, will do…and don’t forget’
That shot wasn’t just an injection, Ethan, no, it was the death sentence, or at least, the death sentence for your best friend..we couldn’t let that happen, could we? What we did was for the best, and anyway, they died quickly. Yes, quickly. And no-one suspected it was us….they never caught us, or the killer. Same diff I guess..!
-----
Ethan shouted .. “It was you, not me or us! You did it! Don’t try and pass the blame, because it was your idea! And it was mad!”
----
Heh heh … I am just a thought, a figment of your imagination – I did nothing, and even if I did….who striked the match? Who tied them up???? WHO POURED THE PETROL!!
----
He yelled again. “You….you…..you’re crazy! You think it was all me!”
----
Haha! Isn’t it ironic! The one who killed his own parents, calling me crazy! Then again, if I am you, and you are me, that means your just as crazy as I am. But I’m not as responsible as you are..heh..the only way you’ll get rid of me is by getting rid of yourself…heh heh..and you’d have to be crazy to do tha…Ethan?
----
Ethan was rummaging in the medicine cupboard in his bathroom. Various things could be found, paracetamol being in the most plentiful supply. He opened the packets, and emptied them…then he remembered – they take 3 days to act, and his ‘friend’ could rid his system of them. He continued looking…there were some sleeping tablets. Immediate effects. He emptied out a handful of sleeping tablets, got some wine, and put htem in his mouth. Then he saw something in the cupboard, something so important it made him cough out all of the pills, each one landing and going down the sink..
The shot…from when he was little…he could take the shots, and end the hell there…He tried not to think about it as he prepared the shot. His only hope. The person behind his parent’s deaths, gone forever.
----
What are you thinking, Ethan? Come to your senses, Ethan? The pills are gone down the sink…what were you thinking, killing us both! I’m your best friend, remember, best friends, and we can be together forever
----
The shot was ready. Ethan held it to the vein.
----
You wouldn’t – You can’t survive without me, remember? I am the only person who knows you best!
----
Ethan shouted, at himself, and the other him. “Please…let me be free!”
He pressed down the syringe..and felt the liquid go into his blood stream. Thoughts flashed in his mind, and his ‘friend’ was talking to him, almost whispering. He was telling Ethan of the past, of the night it happened. The night the world fell apart. But he felt no remorse.
----
You’ll not survive without me, you know. You’re weak, a social recluse…and anyway, if I’m going, you’re coming with me…didn’t think you’d forget about the cuts you gave you so quickly.
----
Ethan could feel himself boiling up inside…the pain was excruciating….but he lasted it out for a while…then his other side was shown. Ethan started to bleed, cuts were beginning to open. A murder, inside out. Committed by himself, to himself…but yet, not suicide. A twisted world of extremities, hope surging as ‘he’ would be soon gone. The fluid was flowing round him, and the cuts continued to open, the pain of his life emitted in bursts of shear hatred towards himself for what he created.
----
The fluid won’t be fast enough. You’re gonna die, y’know that? It was nice knowing you, me…
----
Ethan fell to the ground. And he could feel the other him slowly go. It was quiet. Ethan has stopped screaming. It was fate, the only way…for years it had tortured him. Death of his parents, beginning of the end of his life, and he was still young. It seemed the death solution was the only feasible one. Both were silent. No-one would of heard the other him anyway, it was only in Ethan’s reality, his world.
Slowly, life drained out of Ethan. Then the black abyss came
----
It’s over..
----
It seemed so quiet. You know, the sort of quiet you get when no-one speaks, but rain still perseveres. The races had begun again. Yet another ray of light. Outside the window, a coffin could be seen, with a single flower placed upon it, Only 3 people stood there, on the hill. The priest, the only man who knew Ethan from childhood. Jake, his colleague, and closest thing to a friend. And another person, unseen in the flesh. They were unknown, and after the service, laid another flower next to the coffin. It was the same as the one on it,
“The fire burned, but it wasn’t you..I know your story too well. Or at least, the story of us”
Someone else struggled from that day forward.
--------------------------
Grix Thraves and Ant are forum members on Special Reserve, and I hope they don’t mind me using their names in the story.
Ethan is a character from my past, and hopefully will remain there.
Thanks for reading.
-----------------------------
------------------
There was a gentle pitter-patter of rain on the street. The window had little droplets slowly making their way down it, speeding up occasionally in a mini-race to see who could reach the holy window ledge first. Number 3 won, giving one of the thousands of anonymous raindrops a small ray of light. One that wouldn't kill it through evaporation. And the day went on.
A TV was blaring in the front room of Ant's house, and if most of the neighbours were there, they would probably hear Lawrence-Lllewlyn Bowen compare contemporary to minimalist in yet another home 'makeover' show. Yeah, more like home destruction. Who the hell even watches them, except the unemployed, and the ill, and the old, and...ah, there's half the population then. Or at least, 'was'.
The radio of Grix could be heard somewhere up the road. It was loud also. Perhaps too loud, for the liking of some. but not too loud for others. A matter of taste you may say. But more to the point, the radio was playing, no-one was listening. Whether it was the fact that it was Radio 3, or that no-one was there to listen is irrelevant. They'd all gone.
The street was quiet. In fact, all the streets were quiet. Except for you. Just you, and no-one else, back here again. The whole city at standstill in that no-one was there to move. You walk around. No sound, no feeling. You jump, and slowly float to hit the ground. Perhaps it's a dream? Is it a dream? Only you know. What is it? Touch the air, you can. It shimmers at your fingers.
----
Blinking, tired, but ready for work, he left the house. The road was full of almost every type of person there was. The mother of twins was ushering them into a car. The father of the twins was telling them to keep their muddy shoes off the new carpets. The twins were confused, and simply cried. A business woman could be seen running down the road with toast in one hand, bus change in the other, and a steady stare on the bus driver who planned to drive away without her. A couple in love walked down the road, off to learn and to prosper, and to find out about his affair.
Tough break..
It was his turn to begin. Ethan straightened his clothes one final time, and left the house. Everything seemed normal, then again, who are senses to decided what's normal? The locking beeped, the lights flashed, and he got into his car. Nice enough, Audi TT, with his job, manager for somewhere... somewhere?
----
You don't know do you? See that sky? It's so dark. Think, see the shimmer..isn't it nice? So, what's you job? Don't know, or am I going too fast for you? Why are you letting me get you? This world is not good for you, you know that...but you like it..I'm in control..don't think anymore, just jump. Floating and hit, you fall again. Silly old you, whatever next. Go now, I wouldn’t want to d....
----
The traffic was packed on the roads. Just like yesterday. And tommorow. And Thursday. The sky was clear, or at least it was until the weekend, the the plans for the new underground were coming along well. Ethan had ir all, or at least, the simple mind process that made him think he had it all. Job, car, cash, Gucci suit, holiday away. The traffic didn't seem so bad anymore, and he got to work quicker than before.
The building was huge. An architect's masterpiece, and the new home of E. Threves Architectural (Planning and Design for a modern world). Mildy ironic how an architect didn't design his own building, yet at least the architect who did got a nice thing to put in his portfolio (along with a hefty pay sum). It was made of reflective glass, which could be strengthened or weakened at the push of a button. See the world outside, but the public will stay in wonderment. Ethan's idea of course. Then again, the bursts had been getting stronger.
The office in which he worked was an executive one. Leather chair, box of cigars (he didn't smoke, but it was 'all the rage' according to his partners) posh desk (or as posh as desks come) and various other pointless but nonetheless novelty executive items. Such as an (unneeded) stress ball, and a plasma ball. It would appear he had quite an unhealthy obsession with balls.
In the politest sort of way, of course.
He sat as his desk, and the others went by. Calls were made, contracts formed, people hired, people fired, receptionists harassed by other, lesser employees and designs created (by others..Ethan was above the work part of work). And through the day, he felt it coming again. The mindplay, the tricks of gravity and of light, th..
----
Hmm...what are you thinking? Touch the mirror, feel the surface. The music you hear is no trick, it is bent and unformed, a beauty in it's own right. You can hear it..how do I know? Because I can too. The mirror, touch it again. The music...could it possibly change the mirror's form? Touch the mirror..how does it feel now? Liquid? Don't listen to the music too much, it could be ba..
----
"Ethan....ETHAN!" shouted Jake. The other partner in the business. Or some sort of lesser partner. He could never remember.
He woke up hazed. And not sort of nice-nap hazed, but what-the-hell-just-happened hazed. But with on time to ponder over these now worryingly common experiences. Jake was still shouting, and got a good slap afterwards. But the subject of his ranting was the worrying point.
"The place..you know..over in London..it's falling!"
Ethan was still no more in the know. They'd designed lots of 'places' in London. The keyword was 'falling'
"What dya mean 'falling'?"
Jake really wanted to give a nastily sarcastic remark. But instead, a definition of falling in a disgusted tone would do.
"Falling - as in boom, kapeesh, going downwards - not generally good"
Ethan cringed at the thought. His buildings were perfect..
"How?"
Jake paused, trying to see how what he was about to say could be slightly more believable
Ethan was in anticipation to know. But something had other ideas.
----
You see that? It's all coming down. The world around him was falling..not just one building..You see Ethan? It's the world, crumbling..
"Who are you?"
Heh heh heh...I am you. Or at least, a part of you. Created by you to escape. Created by you to see things from somewhere else. Well this is somewhere else, isn't it
No sound..
ISN'T IT??? SEE IT ETHAN? I am the part of you you wanted but now hate. And I won't go away, oh no. Try and get rid of me, and I'll get rid of you first. I am you, and know what you think, because I was simply at first your thoughts. Don't try to escape. It'd be like trying to hide in open space. An impossible feat.
Don't try. Just listen..
----
London was packed to see what was happening. A crack in the ground had formed under one of Ethan's carefully designed buidlings, prepared for everything, that is, of course, when you read the small print, where it said 'Natural Disasters - Not Included'
Buggery!
The problem was not his, however, and it was natural. Anyway, the crack had seemed to had stopped growing, and work had already begun to fix it up. All would be well, even if much glass had been destroyed. And office equipment. And Ethan’s reputation. Meh.
Night was coming once again, and as he drove home, the lights down the streets hazed in and out of focus. In fact, most things hazed in and out of focus. He swore not to drink and drive...but he hadn't been drinking?
Ethan wondered what the hell was going on..some supernatural weird thing?
----
Nope...worse than that..You'll see...
----
Not one to believe in stuff 'like that', he put it down to tiredness. When home, some paracetamol were taking for his head, some food eaten to maintain some nutrition and bed seemed like quite a feasible option.
He woke up scared. No-one was there, as usual, as he lived alone. It was the dream, or reality, or alter-reality, or something, during the night that had frightened him beyond belief. He looked at his wrists..screams could be heard for houses around. He had experienced something beyond belief..but what?
His eyes closed for the night. The food he had just eaten got into his stomach, and it grumbled in thanks to Ethan. Ethan mumbled back to it. The lids now down, the dreams began. The body was asleep, but the mind was active. Too active. By much.
----
The sky was pitch black, and the stars and planets could be seen. Flashes of his life could be seen. The mind spoke..I am in control, I am your escape, I am you, and you are me. We aren’t apart ever, don’t escape, pensive thoughts are kept up here, I am not a hope but fear…Hahaha…
“I am you? You can’t control me! I control you” – Correction, you are weak, I am strong..you are mine, don’t try to go…it’s a wasteland.
I will show you my power.
2 slit noises could be heard.
Don’t…..try……and…….ESCAPE! I … AM ….. YOU!
The blood could be seen on the floor. Screams could be heard
----
Ethan put bandages on the wounds, wondering how he could control this thing that overcame him. What could he do? If he could slit his wrists…he could do more, and more, and…
He shuddered. It’s not possible. A figment of imagination is just that, imagination……right?
----
No
----
Ethan got back into his car. There seemed to be no escape from this creation..no escape whatsoever. He thought long and hard. The more he thought about it, the less it occurred, and he slowly formed a plan. If it could hurt him, and it was him, he could hurt it. He would have been hurt when hurting this part of me. There’s only one way to rid me of it..
----
Are you mad?
----
He was…as the plan formulated, he realised that what he thought went right through the other side of him. And he would try and stop it, at all costs, come hell or any other unlikely event. If he killed himself, the other him would go. If he killed himself, he would go too. But it’s the only way? It can’t be!
He began to get short of breath .. wheezing .. wheezing just like he did, when he was a child…
----
A young boy was playing in the playground. Well, he wasn’t really playing, as much as passing the time, being lonely. The other kids were far away from him. He was different, and the auto-child-thought-process dictated that he should be shunned before he was associated with a ‘normal’ kid. He was splashing in the puddles, a strained smile on his face, when the bell rang. The other kids went inside, whilst he had to go home. It was time for his … injection.
And then …. you created me. I was your friend. I was you and your friend, the perfect combination. You knew me so well because you had created me. We taled for hours on end, about things, nothing in particular. We laughed and had tears..the doctors called it schizophrenia, but no, it wasn’t, it was special. We could hear them…
‘This shot, twice a day, will do…and don’t forget’
That shot wasn’t just an injection, Ethan, no, it was the death sentence, or at least, the death sentence for your best friend..we couldn’t let that happen, could we? What we did was for the best, and anyway, they died quickly. Yes, quickly. And no-one suspected it was us….they never caught us, or the killer. Same diff I guess..!
-----
Ethan shouted .. “It was you, not me or us! You did it! Don’t try and pass the blame, because it was your idea! And it was mad!”
----
Heh heh … I am just a thought, a figment of your imagination – I did nothing, and even if I did….who striked the match? Who tied them up???? WHO POURED THE PETROL!!
----
He yelled again. “You….you…..you’re crazy! You think it was all me!”
----
Haha! Isn’t it ironic! The one who killed his own parents, calling me crazy! Then again, if I am you, and you are me, that means your just as crazy as I am. But I’m not as responsible as you are..heh..the only way you’ll get rid of me is by getting rid of yourself…heh heh..and you’d have to be crazy to do tha…Ethan?
----
Ethan was rummaging in the medicine cupboard in his bathroom. Various things could be found, paracetamol being in the most plentiful supply. He opened the packets, and emptied them…then he remembered – they take 3 days to act, and his ‘friend’ could rid his system of them. He continued looking…there were some sleeping tablets. Immediate effects. He emptied out a handful of sleeping tablets, got some wine, and put htem in his mouth. Then he saw something in the cupboard, something so important it made him cough out all of the pills, each one landing and going down the sink..
The shot…from when he was little…he could take the shots, and end the hell there…He tried not to think about it as he prepared the shot. His only hope. The person behind his parent’s deaths, gone forever.
----
What are you thinking, Ethan? Come to your senses, Ethan? The pills are gone down the sink…what were you thinking, killing us both! I’m your best friend, remember, best friends, and we can be together forever
----
The shot was ready. Ethan held it to the vein.
----
You wouldn’t – You can’t survive without me, remember? I am the only person who knows you best!
----
Ethan shouted, at himself, and the other him. “Please…let me be free!”
He pressed down the syringe..and felt the liquid go into his blood stream. Thoughts flashed in his mind, and his ‘friend’ was talking to him, almost whispering. He was telling Ethan of the past, of the night it happened. The night the world fell apart. But he felt no remorse.
----
You’ll not survive without me, you know. You’re weak, a social recluse…and anyway, if I’m going, you’re coming with me…didn’t think you’d forget about the cuts you gave you so quickly.
----
Ethan could feel himself boiling up inside…the pain was excruciating….but he lasted it out for a while…then his other side was shown. Ethan started to bleed, cuts were beginning to open. A murder, inside out. Committed by himself, to himself…but yet, not suicide. A twisted world of extremities, hope surging as ‘he’ would be soon gone. The fluid was flowing round him, and the cuts continued to open, the pain of his life emitted in bursts of shear hatred towards himself for what he created.
----
The fluid won’t be fast enough. You’re gonna die, y’know that? It was nice knowing you, me…
----
Ethan fell to the ground. And he could feel the other him slowly go. It was quiet. Ethan has stopped screaming. It was fate, the only way…for years it had tortured him. Death of his parents, beginning of the end of his life, and he was still young. It seemed the death solution was the only feasible one. Both were silent. No-one would of heard the other him anyway, it was only in Ethan’s reality, his world.
Slowly, life drained out of Ethan. Then the black abyss came
----
It’s over..
----
It seemed so quiet. You know, the sort of quiet you get when no-one speaks, but rain still perseveres. The races had begun again. Yet another ray of light. Outside the window, a coffin could be seen, with a single flower placed upon it, Only 3 people stood there, on the hill. The priest, the only man who knew Ethan from childhood. Jake, his colleague, and closest thing to a friend. And another person, unseen in the flesh. They were unknown, and after the service, laid another flower next to the coffin. It was the same as the one on it,
“The fire burned, but it wasn’t you..I know your story too well. Or at least, the story of us”
Someone else struggled from that day forward.
--------------------------
Grix Thraves and Ant are forum members on Special Reserve, and I hope they don’t mind me using their names in the story.
Ethan is a character from my past, and hopefully will remain there.
Thanks for reading.
-----------------------------
I'll have a read once I've written a Tort essay...
Meh, I hate to do this but...
Pop!
Pop!
First attempt at a semi-serious story. Constructive criticism and compliments welcome
------------------
There was a gentle pitter-patter of rain on the street. The window had little droplets slowly making their way down it, speeding up occasionally in a mini-race to see who could reach the holy window ledge first. Number 3 won, giving one of the thousands of anonymous raindrops a small ray of light. One that wouldn't kill it through evaporation. And the day went on.
A TV was blaring in the front room of Ant's house, and if most of the neighbours were there, they would probably hear Lawrence-Lllewlyn Bowen compare contemporary to minimalist in yet another home 'makeover' show. Yeah, more like home destruction. Who the hell even watches them, except the unemployed, and the ill, and the old, and...ah, there's half the population then. Or at least, 'was'.
The radio of Grix could be heard somewhere up the road. It was loud also. Perhaps too loud, for the liking of some. but not too loud for others. A matter of taste you may say. But more to the point, the radio was playing, no-one was listening. Whether it was the fact that it was Radio 3, or that no-one was there to listen is irrelevant. They'd all gone.
The street was quiet. In fact, all the streets were quiet. Except for you. Just you, and no-one else, back here again. The whole city at standstill in that no-one was there to move. You walk around. No sound, no feeling. You jump, and slowly float to hit the ground. Perhaps it's a dream? Is it a dream? Only you know. What is it? Touch the air, you can. It shimmers at your fingers.
----
Blinking, tired, but ready for work, he left the house. The road was full of almost every type of person there was. The mother of twins was ushering them into a car. The father of the twins was telling them to keep their muddy shoes off the new carpets. The twins were confused, and simply cried. A business woman could be seen running down the road with toast in one hand, bus change in the other, and a steady stare on the bus driver who planned to drive away without her. A couple in love walked down the road, off to learn and to prosper, and to find out about his affair.
Tough break..
It was his turn to begin. Ethan straightened his clothes one final time, and left the house. Everything seemed normal, then again, who are senses to decided what's normal? The locking beeped, the lights flashed, and he got into his car. Nice enough, Audi TT, with his job, manager for somewhere... somewhere?
----
You don't know do you? See that sky? It's so dark. Think, see the shimmer..isn't it nice? So, what's you job? Don't know, or am I going too fast for you? Why are you letting me get you? This world is not good for you, you know that...but you like it..I'm in control..don't think anymore, just jump. Floating and hit, you fall again. Silly old you, whatever next. Go now, I wouldn’t want to d....
----
The traffic was packed on the roads. Just like yesterday. And tommorow. And Thursday. The sky was clear, or at least it was until the weekend, the the plans for the new underground were coming along well. Ethan had ir all, or at least, the simple mind process that made him think he had it all. Job, car, cash, Gucci suit, holiday away. The traffic didn't seem so bad anymore, and he got to work quicker than before.
The building was huge. An architect's masterpiece, and the new home of E. Threves Architectural (Planning and Design for a modern world). Mildy ironic how an architect didn't design his own building, yet at least the architect who did got a nice thing to put in his portfolio (along with a hefty pay sum). It was made of reflective glass, which could be strengthened or weakened at the push of a button. See the world outside, but the public will stay in wonderment. Ethan's idea of course. Then again, the bursts had been getting stronger.
The office in which he worked was an executive one. Leather chair, box of cigars (he didn't smoke, but it was 'all the rage' according to his partners) posh desk (or as posh as desks come) and various other pointless but nonetheless novelty executive items. Such as an (unneeded) stress ball, and a plasma ball. It would appear he had quite an unhealthy obsession with balls.
In the politest sort of way, of course.
He sat as his desk, and the others went by. Calls were made, contracts formed, people hired, people fired, receptionists harassed by other, lesser employees and designs created (by others..Ethan was above the work part of work). And through the day, he felt it coming again. The mindplay, the tricks of gravity and of light, th..
----
Hmm...what are you thinking? Touch the mirror, feel the surface. The music you hear is no trick, it is bent and unformed, a beauty in it's own right. You can hear it..how do I know? Because I can too. The mirror, touch it again. The music...could it possibly change the mirror's form? Touch the mirror..how does it feel now? Liquid? Don't listen to the music too much, it could be ba..
----
"Ethan....ETHAN!" shouted Jake. The other partner in the business. Or some sort of lesser partner. He could never remember.
He woke up hazed. And not sort of nice-nap hazed, but what-the-hell-just-happened hazed. But with on time to ponder over these now worryingly common experiences. Jake was still shouting, and got a good slap afterwards. But the subject of his ranting was the worrying point.
"The place..you know..over in London..it's falling!"
Ethan was still no more in the know. They'd designed lots of 'places' in London. The keyword was 'falling'
"What dya mean 'falling'?"
Jake really wanted to give a nastily sarcastic remark. But instead, a definition of falling in a disgusted tone would do.
"Falling - as in boom, kapeesh, going downwards - not generally good"
Ethan cringed at the thought. His buildings were perfect..
"How?"
Jake paused, trying to see how what he was about to say could be slightly more believable
Ethan was in anticipation to know. But something had other ideas.
----
You see that? It's all coming down. The world around him was falling..not just one building..You see Ethan? It's the world, crumbling..
"Who are you?"
Heh heh heh...I am you. Or at least, a part of you. Created by you to escape. Created by you to see things from somewhere else. Well this is somewhere else, isn't it
No sound..
ISN'T IT??? SEE IT ETHAN? I am the part of you you wanted but now hate. And I won't go away, oh no. Try and get rid of me, and I'll get rid of you first. I am you, and know what you think, because I was simply at first your thoughts. Don't try to escape. It'd be like trying to hide in open space. An impossible feat.
Don't try. Just listen..
----
London was packed to see what was happening. A crack in the ground had formed under one of Ethan's carefully designed buidlings, prepared for everything, that is, of course, when you read the small print, where it said 'Natural Disasters - Not Included'
Buggery!
The problem was not his, however, and it was natural. Anyway, the crack had seemed to had stopped growing, and work had already begun to fix it up. All would be well, even if much glass had been destroyed. And office equipment. And Ethan’s reputation. Meh.
Night was coming once again, and as he drove home, the lights down the streets hazed in and out of focus. In fact, most things hazed in and out of focus. He swore not to drink and drive...but he hadn't been drinking?
Ethan wondered what the hell was going on..some supernatural weird thing?
----
Nope...worse than that..You'll see...
----
Not one to believe in stuff 'like that', he put it down to tiredness. When home, some paracetamol were taking for his head, some food eaten to maintain some nutrition and bed seemed like quite a feasible option.
He woke up scared. No-one was there, as usual, as he lived alone. It was the dream, or reality, or alter-reality, or something, during the night that had frightened him beyond belief. He looked at his wrists..screams could be heard for houses around. He had experienced something beyond belief..but what?
His eyes closed for the night. The food he had just eaten got into his stomach, and it grumbled in thanks to Ethan. Ethan mumbled back to it. The lids now down, the dreams began. The body was asleep, but the mind was active. Too active. By much.
----
The sky was pitch black, and the stars and planets could be seen. Flashes of his life could be seen. The mind spoke..I am in control, I am your escape, I am you, and you are me. We aren’t apart ever, don’t escape, pensive thoughts are kept up here, I am not a hope but fear…Hahaha…
“I am you? You can’t control me! I control you” – Correction, you are weak, I am strong..you are mine, don’t try to go…it’s a wasteland.
I will show you my power.
2 slit noises could be heard.
Don’t…..try……and…….ESCAPE! I … AM ….. YOU!
The blood could be seen on the floor. Screams could be heard
----
Ethan put bandages on the wounds, wondering how he could control this thing that overcame him. What could he do? If he could slit his wrists…he could do more, and more, and…
He shuddered. It’s not possible. A figment of imagination is just that, imagination……right?
----
No
----
Ethan got back into his car. There seemed to be no escape from this creation..no escape whatsoever. He thought long and hard. The more he thought about it, the less it occurred, and he slowly formed a plan. If it could hurt him, and it was him, he could hurt it. He would have been hurt when hurting this part of me. There’s only one way to rid me of it..
----
Are you mad?
----
He was…as the plan formulated, he realised that what he thought went right through the other side of him. And he would try and stop it, at all costs, come hell or any other unlikely event. If he killed himself, the other him would go. If he killed himself, he would go too. But it’s the only way? It can’t be!
He began to get short of breath .. wheezing .. wheezing just like he did, when he was a child…
----
A young boy was playing in the playground. Well, he wasn’t really playing, as much as passing the time, being lonely. The other kids were far away from him. He was different, and the auto-child-thought-process dictated that he should be shunned before he was associated with a ‘normal’ kid. He was splashing in the puddles, a strained smile on his face, when the bell rang. The other kids went inside, whilst he had to go home. It was time for his … injection.
And then …. you created me. I was your friend. I was you and your friend, the perfect combination. You knew me so well because you had created me. We taled for hours on end, about things, nothing in particular. We laughed and had tears..the doctors called it schizophrenia, but no, it wasn’t, it was special. We could hear them…
‘This shot, twice a day, will do…and don’t forget’
That shot wasn’t just an injection, Ethan, no, it was the death sentence, or at least, the death sentence for your best friend..we couldn’t let that happen, could we? What we did was for the best, and anyway, they died quickly. Yes, quickly. And no-one suspected it was us….they never caught us, or the killer. Same diff I guess..!
-----
Ethan shouted .. “It was you, not me or us! You did it! Don’t try and pass the blame, because it was your idea! And it was mad!”
----
Heh heh … I am just a thought, a figment of your imagination – I did nothing, and even if I did….who striked the match? Who tied them up???? WHO POURED THE PETROL!!
----
He yelled again. “You….you…..you’re crazy! You think it was all me!”
----
Haha! Isn’t it ironic! The one who killed his own parents, calling me crazy! Then again, if I am you, and you are me, that means your just as crazy as I am. But I’m not as responsible as you are..heh..the only way you’ll get rid of me is by getting rid of yourself…heh heh..and you’d have to be crazy to do tha…Ethan?
----
Ethan was rummaging in the medicine cupboard in his bathroom. Various things could be found, paracetamol being in the most plentiful supply. He opened the packets, and emptied them…then he remembered – they take 3 days to act, and his ‘friend’ could rid his system of them. He continued looking…there were some sleeping tablets. Immediate effects. He emptied out a handful of sleeping tablets, got some wine, and put htem in his mouth. Then he saw something in the cupboard, something so important it made him cough out all of the pills, each one landing and going down the sink..
The shot…from when he was little…he could take the shots, and end the hell there…He tried not to think about it as he prepared the shot. His only hope. The person behind his parent’s deaths, gone forever.
----
What are you thinking, Ethan? Come to your senses, Ethan? The pills are gone down the sink…what were you thinking, killing us both! I’m your best friend, remember, best friends, and we can be together forever
----
The shot was ready. Ethan held it to the vein.
----
You wouldn’t – You can’t survive without me, remember? I am the only person who knows you best!
----
Ethan shouted, at himself, and the other him. “Please…let me be free!”
He pressed down the syringe..and felt the liquid go into his blood stream. Thoughts flashed in his mind, and his ‘friend’ was talking to him, almost whispering. He was telling Ethan of the past, of the night it happened. The night the world fell apart. But he felt no remorse.
----
You’ll not survive without me, you know. You’re weak, a social recluse…and anyway, if I’m going, you’re coming with me…didn’t think you’d forget about the cuts you gave you so quickly.
----
Ethan could feel himself boiling up inside…the pain was excruciating….but he lasted it out for a while…then his other side was shown. Ethan started to bleed, cuts were beginning to open. A murder, inside out. Committed by himself, to himself…but yet, not suicide. A twisted world of extremities, hope surging as ‘he’ would be soon gone. The fluid was flowing round him, and the cuts continued to open, the pain of his life emitted in bursts of shear hatred towards himself for what he created.
----
The fluid won’t be fast enough. You’re gonna die, y’know that? It was nice knowing you, me…
----
Ethan fell to the ground. And he could feel the other him slowly go. It was quiet. Ethan has stopped screaming. It was fate, the only way…for years it had tortured him. Death of his parents, beginning of the end of his life, and he was still young. It seemed the death solution was the only feasible one. Both were silent. No-one would of heard the other him anyway, it was only in Ethan’s reality, his world.
Slowly, life drained out of Ethan. Then the black abyss came
----
It’s over..
----
It seemed so quiet. You know, the sort of quiet you get when no-one speaks, but rain still perseveres. The races had begun again. Yet another ray of light. Outside the window, a coffin could be seen, with a single flower placed upon it, Only 3 people stood there, on the hill. The priest, the only man who knew Ethan from childhood. Jake, his colleague, and closest thing to a friend. And another person, unseen in the flesh. They were unknown, and after the service, laid another flower next to the coffin. It was the same as the one on it,
“The fire burned, but it wasn’t you..I know your story too well. Or at least, the story of us”
Someone else struggled from that day forward.
--------------------------
Grix Thraves and Ant are forum members on Special Reserve, and I hope they don’t mind me using their names in the story.
Ethan is a character from my past, and hopefully will remain there.
Thanks for reading.
-----------------------------
------------------
There was a gentle pitter-patter of rain on the street. The window had little droplets slowly making their way down it, speeding up occasionally in a mini-race to see who could reach the holy window ledge first. Number 3 won, giving one of the thousands of anonymous raindrops a small ray of light. One that wouldn't kill it through evaporation. And the day went on.
A TV was blaring in the front room of Ant's house, and if most of the neighbours were there, they would probably hear Lawrence-Lllewlyn Bowen compare contemporary to minimalist in yet another home 'makeover' show. Yeah, more like home destruction. Who the hell even watches them, except the unemployed, and the ill, and the old, and...ah, there's half the population then. Or at least, 'was'.
The radio of Grix could be heard somewhere up the road. It was loud also. Perhaps too loud, for the liking of some. but not too loud for others. A matter of taste you may say. But more to the point, the radio was playing, no-one was listening. Whether it was the fact that it was Radio 3, or that no-one was there to listen is irrelevant. They'd all gone.
The street was quiet. In fact, all the streets were quiet. Except for you. Just you, and no-one else, back here again. The whole city at standstill in that no-one was there to move. You walk around. No sound, no feeling. You jump, and slowly float to hit the ground. Perhaps it's a dream? Is it a dream? Only you know. What is it? Touch the air, you can. It shimmers at your fingers.
----
Blinking, tired, but ready for work, he left the house. The road was full of almost every type of person there was. The mother of twins was ushering them into a car. The father of the twins was telling them to keep their muddy shoes off the new carpets. The twins were confused, and simply cried. A business woman could be seen running down the road with toast in one hand, bus change in the other, and a steady stare on the bus driver who planned to drive away without her. A couple in love walked down the road, off to learn and to prosper, and to find out about his affair.
Tough break..
It was his turn to begin. Ethan straightened his clothes one final time, and left the house. Everything seemed normal, then again, who are senses to decided what's normal? The locking beeped, the lights flashed, and he got into his car. Nice enough, Audi TT, with his job, manager for somewhere... somewhere?
----
You don't know do you? See that sky? It's so dark. Think, see the shimmer..isn't it nice? So, what's you job? Don't know, or am I going too fast for you? Why are you letting me get you? This world is not good for you, you know that...but you like it..I'm in control..don't think anymore, just jump. Floating and hit, you fall again. Silly old you, whatever next. Go now, I wouldn’t want to d....
----
The traffic was packed on the roads. Just like yesterday. And tommorow. And Thursday. The sky was clear, or at least it was until the weekend, the the plans for the new underground were coming along well. Ethan had ir all, or at least, the simple mind process that made him think he had it all. Job, car, cash, Gucci suit, holiday away. The traffic didn't seem so bad anymore, and he got to work quicker than before.
The building was huge. An architect's masterpiece, and the new home of E. Threves Architectural (Planning and Design for a modern world). Mildy ironic how an architect didn't design his own building, yet at least the architect who did got a nice thing to put in his portfolio (along with a hefty pay sum). It was made of reflective glass, which could be strengthened or weakened at the push of a button. See the world outside, but the public will stay in wonderment. Ethan's idea of course. Then again, the bursts had been getting stronger.
The office in which he worked was an executive one. Leather chair, box of cigars (he didn't smoke, but it was 'all the rage' according to his partners) posh desk (or as posh as desks come) and various other pointless but nonetheless novelty executive items. Such as an (unneeded) stress ball, and a plasma ball. It would appear he had quite an unhealthy obsession with balls.
In the politest sort of way, of course.
He sat as his desk, and the others went by. Calls were made, contracts formed, people hired, people fired, receptionists harassed by other, lesser employees and designs created (by others..Ethan was above the work part of work). And through the day, he felt it coming again. The mindplay, the tricks of gravity and of light, th..
----
Hmm...what are you thinking? Touch the mirror, feel the surface. The music you hear is no trick, it is bent and unformed, a beauty in it's own right. You can hear it..how do I know? Because I can too. The mirror, touch it again. The music...could it possibly change the mirror's form? Touch the mirror..how does it feel now? Liquid? Don't listen to the music too much, it could be ba..
----
"Ethan....ETHAN!" shouted Jake. The other partner in the business. Or some sort of lesser partner. He could never remember.
He woke up hazed. And not sort of nice-nap hazed, but what-the-hell-just-happened hazed. But with on time to ponder over these now worryingly common experiences. Jake was still shouting, and got a good slap afterwards. But the subject of his ranting was the worrying point.
"The place..you know..over in London..it's falling!"
Ethan was still no more in the know. They'd designed lots of 'places' in London. The keyword was 'falling'
"What dya mean 'falling'?"
Jake really wanted to give a nastily sarcastic remark. But instead, a definition of falling in a disgusted tone would do.
"Falling - as in boom, kapeesh, going downwards - not generally good"
Ethan cringed at the thought. His buildings were perfect..
"How?"
Jake paused, trying to see how what he was about to say could be slightly more believable
Ethan was in anticipation to know. But something had other ideas.
----
You see that? It's all coming down. The world around him was falling..not just one building..You see Ethan? It's the world, crumbling..
"Who are you?"
Heh heh heh...I am you. Or at least, a part of you. Created by you to escape. Created by you to see things from somewhere else. Well this is somewhere else, isn't it
No sound..
ISN'T IT??? SEE IT ETHAN? I am the part of you you wanted but now hate. And I won't go away, oh no. Try and get rid of me, and I'll get rid of you first. I am you, and know what you think, because I was simply at first your thoughts. Don't try to escape. It'd be like trying to hide in open space. An impossible feat.
Don't try. Just listen..
----
London was packed to see what was happening. A crack in the ground had formed under one of Ethan's carefully designed buidlings, prepared for everything, that is, of course, when you read the small print, where it said 'Natural Disasters - Not Included'
Buggery!
The problem was not his, however, and it was natural. Anyway, the crack had seemed to had stopped growing, and work had already begun to fix it up. All would be well, even if much glass had been destroyed. And office equipment. And Ethan’s reputation. Meh.
Night was coming once again, and as he drove home, the lights down the streets hazed in and out of focus. In fact, most things hazed in and out of focus. He swore not to drink and drive...but he hadn't been drinking?
Ethan wondered what the hell was going on..some supernatural weird thing?
----
Nope...worse than that..You'll see...
----
Not one to believe in stuff 'like that', he put it down to tiredness. When home, some paracetamol were taking for his head, some food eaten to maintain some nutrition and bed seemed like quite a feasible option.
He woke up scared. No-one was there, as usual, as he lived alone. It was the dream, or reality, or alter-reality, or something, during the night that had frightened him beyond belief. He looked at his wrists..screams could be heard for houses around. He had experienced something beyond belief..but what?
His eyes closed for the night. The food he had just eaten got into his stomach, and it grumbled in thanks to Ethan. Ethan mumbled back to it. The lids now down, the dreams began. The body was asleep, but the mind was active. Too active. By much.
----
The sky was pitch black, and the stars and planets could be seen. Flashes of his life could be seen. The mind spoke..I am in control, I am your escape, I am you, and you are me. We aren’t apart ever, don’t escape, pensive thoughts are kept up here, I am not a hope but fear…Hahaha…
“I am you? You can’t control me! I control you” – Correction, you are weak, I am strong..you are mine, don’t try to go…it’s a wasteland.
I will show you my power.
2 slit noises could be heard.
Don’t…..try……and…….ESCAPE! I … AM ….. YOU!
The blood could be seen on the floor. Screams could be heard
----
Ethan put bandages on the wounds, wondering how he could control this thing that overcame him. What could he do? If he could slit his wrists…he could do more, and more, and…
He shuddered. It’s not possible. A figment of imagination is just that, imagination……right?
----
No
----
Ethan got back into his car. There seemed to be no escape from this creation..no escape whatsoever. He thought long and hard. The more he thought about it, the less it occurred, and he slowly formed a plan. If it could hurt him, and it was him, he could hurt it. He would have been hurt when hurting this part of me. There’s only one way to rid me of it..
----
Are you mad?
----
He was…as the plan formulated, he realised that what he thought went right through the other side of him. And he would try and stop it, at all costs, come hell or any other unlikely event. If he killed himself, the other him would go. If he killed himself, he would go too. But it’s the only way? It can’t be!
He began to get short of breath .. wheezing .. wheezing just like he did, when he was a child…
----
A young boy was playing in the playground. Well, he wasn’t really playing, as much as passing the time, being lonely. The other kids were far away from him. He was different, and the auto-child-thought-process dictated that he should be shunned before he was associated with a ‘normal’ kid. He was splashing in the puddles, a strained smile on his face, when the bell rang. The other kids went inside, whilst he had to go home. It was time for his … injection.
And then …. you created me. I was your friend. I was you and your friend, the perfect combination. You knew me so well because you had created me. We taled for hours on end, about things, nothing in particular. We laughed and had tears..the doctors called it schizophrenia, but no, it wasn’t, it was special. We could hear them…
‘This shot, twice a day, will do…and don’t forget’
That shot wasn’t just an injection, Ethan, no, it was the death sentence, or at least, the death sentence for your best friend..we couldn’t let that happen, could we? What we did was for the best, and anyway, they died quickly. Yes, quickly. And no-one suspected it was us….they never caught us, or the killer. Same diff I guess..!
-----
Ethan shouted .. “It was you, not me or us! You did it! Don’t try and pass the blame, because it was your idea! And it was mad!”
----
Heh heh … I am just a thought, a figment of your imagination – I did nothing, and even if I did….who striked the match? Who tied them up???? WHO POURED THE PETROL!!
----
He yelled again. “You….you…..you’re crazy! You think it was all me!”
----
Haha! Isn’t it ironic! The one who killed his own parents, calling me crazy! Then again, if I am you, and you are me, that means your just as crazy as I am. But I’m not as responsible as you are..heh..the only way you’ll get rid of me is by getting rid of yourself…heh heh..and you’d have to be crazy to do tha…Ethan?
----
Ethan was rummaging in the medicine cupboard in his bathroom. Various things could be found, paracetamol being in the most plentiful supply. He opened the packets, and emptied them…then he remembered – they take 3 days to act, and his ‘friend’ could rid his system of them. He continued looking…there were some sleeping tablets. Immediate effects. He emptied out a handful of sleeping tablets, got some wine, and put htem in his mouth. Then he saw something in the cupboard, something so important it made him cough out all of the pills, each one landing and going down the sink..
The shot…from when he was little…he could take the shots, and end the hell there…He tried not to think about it as he prepared the shot. His only hope. The person behind his parent’s deaths, gone forever.
----
What are you thinking, Ethan? Come to your senses, Ethan? The pills are gone down the sink…what were you thinking, killing us both! I’m your best friend, remember, best friends, and we can be together forever
----
The shot was ready. Ethan held it to the vein.
----
You wouldn’t – You can’t survive without me, remember? I am the only person who knows you best!
----
Ethan shouted, at himself, and the other him. “Please…let me be free!”
He pressed down the syringe..and felt the liquid go into his blood stream. Thoughts flashed in his mind, and his ‘friend’ was talking to him, almost whispering. He was telling Ethan of the past, of the night it happened. The night the world fell apart. But he felt no remorse.
----
You’ll not survive without me, you know. You’re weak, a social recluse…and anyway, if I’m going, you’re coming with me…didn’t think you’d forget about the cuts you gave you so quickly.
----
Ethan could feel himself boiling up inside…the pain was excruciating….but he lasted it out for a while…then his other side was shown. Ethan started to bleed, cuts were beginning to open. A murder, inside out. Committed by himself, to himself…but yet, not suicide. A twisted world of extremities, hope surging as ‘he’ would be soon gone. The fluid was flowing round him, and the cuts continued to open, the pain of his life emitted in bursts of shear hatred towards himself for what he created.
----
The fluid won’t be fast enough. You’re gonna die, y’know that? It was nice knowing you, me…
----
Ethan fell to the ground. And he could feel the other him slowly go. It was quiet. Ethan has stopped screaming. It was fate, the only way…for years it had tortured him. Death of his parents, beginning of the end of his life, and he was still young. It seemed the death solution was the only feasible one. Both were silent. No-one would of heard the other him anyway, it was only in Ethan’s reality, his world.
Slowly, life drained out of Ethan. Then the black abyss came
----
It’s over..
----
It seemed so quiet. You know, the sort of quiet you get when no-one speaks, but rain still perseveres. The races had begun again. Yet another ray of light. Outside the window, a coffin could be seen, with a single flower placed upon it, Only 3 people stood there, on the hill. The priest, the only man who knew Ethan from childhood. Jake, his colleague, and closest thing to a friend. And another person, unseen in the flesh. They were unknown, and after the service, laid another flower next to the coffin. It was the same as the one on it,
“The fire burned, but it wasn’t you..I know your story too well. Or at least, the story of us”
Someone else struggled from that day forward.
--------------------------
Grix Thraves and Ant are forum members on Special Reserve, and I hope they don’t mind me using their names in the story.
Ethan is a character from my past, and hopefully will remain there.
Thanks for reading.
-----------------------------