"We pass the word around; we ponder how the case is put by different people, we read the poetry; we meditate over the literature; we play the music; we change our minds; we reach an understanding. Society evolves this way, not by shouting each other down, but by the unique capacity of unique, individual human beings to comprehend each other." - Lewis Thomas

Friday, August 6, 2010

Forgotten Place pt1

His folded in front of him like a shield made of bone. His eyes gleamed in the dark, his smile shone like the cat. He stood in the shadows like a predator watching his prey. His hair was the colour of a blasphemer, or so they say. Smoke was blown back into his nose, the scent of death breathed in and through his lungs. His young face, was only visable by each inhale of ash from the cigarette.

He stood at the edge of the apartments roof, his jacket was blowing in the wind. His gleaming eyes stared out over the city and imagined falling down. He inhaled. Mind racing like a clock being wound backwards. His eyes scanned the streets below, headlights and tire squeals echoed inside his ears. He could feel the slightly polluted air brush against his face as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled.

The exhaled smoke clouded his young face. A soft, femine hand ran up his backand under his hood. The hand stopped and rested on his shoulder blade, sending a noticable shiver down his spine. The sound of heels echoed and stopped next to him. With glazed eyes he turned his head and eyed her up a girl next to him, bottom to top. Her heels lifted her small body 2 inches off the ground, allowing her to stand eye-level to him. Her heels extended her soft, smoothly glistening legs into a short, crimson cocktail dress.

Her hand stayed resting on his back. Long dark hair covered her face from veiw. Moving her hand down his right arm to his hand she took the cigarette with no resistance. Lifting it to her lips, unvieling a perfectly symetrical face, her lips were accented by dark red lip stick and her eyes, although closed were naturally accented and beautiful.

Dark skies void of stars created a back drop for her exhaled smoke. She smiled and placed the cigarette back in between his fingers. Placing a hand on his shoulder she kissed his cheek. The sound of her black heels moving behind him, as she moved sides. Her voice was pitched as an angel singing hymms to the gods. He turned to face her as she began to stare at the world below that so facinated him. She was smiling at him, as he looked at her.

"Psyche, don't bother." he said quickly cutting her off. "Your words wil not convince me to return."

Her smile faded, as she walked behind him back to his other side. Her hand brushing against him, her hair blowing in the wind. She took his hand in hers and looked into his eyes. Moving her body closer to his, she placed his arm around her neck and pressed against him. Running her hand against his stomach like a seducer in a bar.

"Darling, you know there isn't anything we can do. They've forgotten us." She looked below with disgust.

The sound of a pigeon jumping down off of a fence rang in the air behind them. He took another drag on his cigarette, exhaling to the side. He looked at her, emotionless. Her eyes were like liquid as his were empty, a wasteland that had given up hope, content to stay empty like a veteran returning from his last tour. He knew she spoke the truth despite the aching in his chest. She tried to stare at him lovingly despite his emptiness.

With anger she pushed off of him, the sound of leather filled the silence on the roof, as she sighed "Babe, you can't just stand up here and watch them like a hawk waiting for its prey..."

Taking another drag on his smoke, he breathed out "And why not Psyche? Why not? They used to look to us, use to understand and know that we are here. How could they just forget us like this?" the smoke clouded around his eyes. "Do they not fear us anymore?"

She looked down at them. A car's break lights lit up as it stopped for the stop light. She watched as a young lady walking by herself got her purse stolen, and the man running down the streets vanishing from sight down a dark alleyway. She scuffed at the material obsessions, she coughed. That air tasted stale, "Why should they fear us, Cupid? They have each other to be fearful of."

He took another drag, ignoring her. He kicked some dirt around on the roof, with black leather boots. He tossed his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. Behind them a rusted metal fence stood, blocking an electrical box and stopping anyone from saving the man on the sticker from a lightning bolt. The roof was covered in sand and gravel, there were fans running and some large pipes for air ventilation for the apartments below them.

In shadows of the perimeter, lay a two black masses, one slightly smaller than the other. Her heels clicked as she moved nearer to him. She was furious with his stubbornness. She grab his hand and reached in to the pocket of his jacket. Pulling out the pack of Cigarette's, the box had a blue strip along the top holding the name written in white. Emerging from his pocket as well, locked between her fingers, was his lighter, bright orange like the sun.

Leaning to him again "I know you know there isn't any place like home...." She kissed is cheek, her attempt at coersion.

"This is my home now. It is the only place that makes sense anymore." he looked in her hands.

"This? This glorified abstraction of a place?" She spat, like a baseball player chewing tabaco.

He steped away. Turning to find the moon in the sky that night. Her sigh echoed amongst the metal pipes. He ignored her yet again. He pointed to the moon, shinning silvery grey beams of light down on the city muffled by streetlamps and headlights. The sleeve of his dark leather jacket pulled up as he raised his arm, revealing a tatoo of angel wings on the top of his wrist.

"Look at that Psyche. You do not get that view from home." he admired it not lowering his pointing finger.

"Thats because that might as well be home." She looked up at, clearly unimpressed.

She attempted to walk away, heading towards the doorway which leads down the stairwell into the apartment building. He quickly grabbed her, sliding his left arm around her waist and pulled her back into him. Wrapping his other arm around her, he faced them towards the moon. Gorgeous. Standing behind her, he held her tightly. "Look at it, its beautiful." He whispered to her, before kissing her.

Her eyes looked at it, and shook her head. Nothing. He's lost it. She thought to herself, lighting herself a cigarette. Exhaling the smoke up into his face, she maneuvered out of his arms and faced him. "There's nothing here for me anymore Cupid. This pointless." She tossed the cigarette down to the ground stepping on it as she bolted towards the door.

Still mesmerized by the moon, he caught her leaving out of the peripherals. "Sweetheart, wait up!" He called to her, following her slowly.

"These mortal bodies are fragile, where's the keys to your place?" She called back, not turning to face him.

The light of the stairwell, saw nothing but two shillohette's gliding down the stairs to the 2nd floor. Otherwise empty and silent, the hospital white walls yawned with the buzzing of luminecent lights. The shadows at the edge of the perimeter of the roof began to fade with each step they made towards the bottom. Each foot step echoed with the light click of heels and the booming of leather boots on concrete. The endagering echo of a metal door slamming was the last that was heard before the stairwell emptied and the walls fell back into slumber.


"There is nothing colder than a love lost. Not the icy winds of the north, nor the million year old ice of the south. Life lasts because love exists, even if we can't find it. Once we swallow our shallow ends does love begin to flow, like a dam's door being opened to find a lake staring at it." - Authors Note 33


  1. this was great man, really interesting. Your style is very enjoyable. The way you say alot without saying too much. I REALLY appreciated your comments on my recent post. I must admit though, that I OFTEN feel the same way as you described, as if I am grasping at little orbs of light, or darkness as it were. Worry not, though, my friend. When the time is right, your muse will return. I didn't write for about a month, because I just couldnt get inspired, and then when I finally got around to it, I rattled of several pages like it was nothing. It could be that your subconsious mind is simply sifting through the raw data, working on your next great piece. Anyway, thanks for the nice comment, don't get frustrated, just wait for it to come man.

  2. I'm late reading this, but I'm so glad I did! I really love the way you write and describe situations, because I could literally see it in my head..and that's awesome! Congrats!


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