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Speakeasy 165 – Madness

The stars shone so bright it seemed like day and they were blinding, the birds flew so high they were but bright specks in the sky and their song was so loud it could be heard from miles around and everywhere bright splashing colours invaded the space around me; the grass was a sparkling emerald the tree seemed twice as big and loomed as crimson drops of blood fell everywhere like soft blossom petals to cover everything they touched and all around me there was no-one, just the voices in my head, taunting, “We gave it everything we had, but it wasn’t enough” and in that scene too bright there was something so horribly wrong and ugly and the tears of one thousand dead people fell from the sky too bright full of stars and onto the grass, ruby smothering the emerald and the blue sky that wasn’t blue wept and all the ghosts in my head were crying out and I saw I was confined between invisible blood-red walls and the tree was blank as it shed its tears like a million little stars and crystals falling like feathers startlingly red while the voices in my head screamed “Murderer!”.
And everything died down, the stars dimmed and fell to ashes at my feet, the grass grew yellow and came to dust and the blood kept falling, it couldn’t stop falling and I was falling, tumbling through the void of the colour red: a million different shades,
a million different ways to die.

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Posted by on 9 June 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy

 

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Speakeasy #158 – Pick A Side

I’m lying down, snippets of things that happened so fast still playing in my head. I know I’m alone now, because no-one’s talking and I’m pretty sure I’d hear if they were and there is no new pain. I can’t get my thoughts together and I can feel the blinding white of the room suffocate me. Is this me going mad? I can’t think, these people are asking me questions and It’s driving me insane and I’m having trouble remembering my name, if this doesn’t kill me it’ll never leave me sane if they don’t stop… just stop. Shut up!

Shut up.

Calm down.

Stop bloody thinking.

If you’re uncapable of thinking about anything else then just don’t think.

 

That’s easier said than done.

I once had a friend who’d tell me that talking to yourself was the first sign of madness. I’d get frustrated, not because I was mad, but because I didn’t want anyone to think I was mad. Then, one day, I found an answer for her: “it’s only madness if you think you’re talking to someone else” I said, “not if you know you’re talking to yourself” I said. Bloody useful that turned out to be. For the moment I can still tell reality from the rest. But for how long?

 

I shiver, now feeling the pain as the panic and confusion dim… bad reflex; not only does it hurt, it hurts more. Maybe I’ll die here. What would happen then? But I know I won’t die here, maybe only because I’m too young to think otherwise but it’s a shield, to know that I’ll get out of here eventually… and one I’ll gladly keep.

 

I tense as I hear the door open (so I’m not deaf) then close. It’s agony as I can’t hear the silent steps probably coming towards me. That means there aren’t many people, a lot of people can’t all be that silent (can they?). I flinch involutarily as a hand touches my shoulder. I think I know whose hand it is. So I really have gone crazy. No, I remember what they said, in that case, it’s not so strange that she would be here.

“Hey… how are you?”

How are you?! I will kill this woman! I have been tortured and rendered mad as a hatter (though which hatter and how mad could be cause for debate) but in any case she would only have to look at me to know that I was not “fine”. Not even close. But I didn’t have the heart to say such things so silence was all she got from me. Sometimes, silence can say a lot.

“I had no idea of what had happened to you or what they were doing to you here…”

How convenient for you. And how convenient for them to tell you only once they had tried everything else they could (legaly speaking). How convenient for me to be underage and for my mother to work for them then. I’m lucky I’m only 17, a year later and it would’ve been much worse. And how convenient for my mother to be away when I need her.

“Take me home. Take me home and I’ll tell you everything you want”

What am I saying? Damn, see? This is me going crazy. Goddamn idiot.

“… I’m sorry…that’s the one thing I can’t do”

“It’s not the only thing” I riposte,

“They thought I knew about you, I didn’t so they told me who you really were, they didn’t hurt me.”

I sat up so I could see her when she answered.

“If they didn’t hurt you then…”

My mother’s not a spy for nothing, or she’d be dead already.

“Why won’t you say where they are?”

Looks like it’s job first, love after.

“Because you’d kill them”

SHIT. Now they know I know…

“Let’s go out a while”

That’s ambitious of you, but then I can barely walk and it’s not like I’ll go somewhere unguarded.

“Can I borrow your phone?” I ask

“Sure”

I write to the number I had memorised:

RUN U 2 DON’T TELL/LOOK BACK + THROW THE PHONE

I only have the time to press send before her gun hits my head.

I scramble up only to get shot from in front, (she was behind me).

I had betrayed both people I loved the most and because of them I died. I suppose it was only right, and the rightness eclipsed every mistake made along the way.

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Posted by on 22 April 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy

 

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