things can only get better, then they get worse

breathe in

its hard to write this with someone looking over your shoulder. its hard to live in a 12 x 14 box with someone that just eats and sleeps and occasionally goes out for a 'spa treatment'. yeah he gives me money. yeah he's not here all the time. yeah he's not that bad when it comes to doin dishes. but christ. i just want to be alone sometimes. is that mush to ask?

breathe out

feast or famine. thats the old saying i guess. sometimes i would rather starve. makes life more interesting. reminds me of a scene from agnes of god, one of the best movies if i do say so myself, where she says that she needs to stop eating, that she needs to suffer like a little child because god said suffer the little children. i always have been a fan of suffering. its sort of liberating. i just wish i was a little better at it.

ventilate (FICTION)

"are you ready?"

the sky shone like blue eyes.

"i think so. did you get it?"

"i got it."

the sound of the train was rhythmic, the miles measured in clacks and puffs of steam.

"do you think things will ever change?"

she takes the ring from around her neck and twists it back and forth between her fingers. he stares out the window.

"i think that you will see a great many things in the next few hours. i don't know if it will change anything right away. maybe except us."

she looks at him, and then at the hills to the west. in the distance there was a small town, a grain silo surrounded by 6 or 7 white houses, and what looks to be a red brick building on the edge with an american flag rising above, fluttering in the breeze. in the field between passes a small lake, crystalline with winter chill.

"i don't want to change. i just want this to be over."

"me too."

the train begins to slow as the city looms closer.

"this is where it begins."

the train stops

"this is where it ends."

******************************************

you really didn't need to come all this way. would you like a drink? i guess not. not speaking to me it seems. well suit yourself. i have been talking to myself for a very long time now, so i am used to it. well, regardless i am going to have a drink. it is not that often that i get company. not since i came here.

i see you brought the book. nice story. too bad it is nothing that can help you here. i know you thought that by bringing that little artifact that in some way you would have the upper hand. the last one that came thought the same thing.

oh, i see by that look you thought you were the first one, that this was the first time that something like this had happened. well, in a sense yes, but you are not the first one to try to come and stop it. there have been quite a few actually. if you could not guess, they all failed.

what? still no words? i guess coming face to face with me is quite intimidating. breathtaking if i do say so myself.

i remember the last one. his name was william if i remember. he was a braggart, screaming all sorts of nonsense about demons and angels and the rites. all rubbish mind you. he did not realise the scope of what he was dealing with. so much more than demons. and there are no such thing as angels. he tried to pry the information about the knife you seek from me like a child grasping for a toy. he threatened me. needless to say this is as far as he got. under that glass over there is a piece of his scalp.

your silence intrigues me. i will not give you what you seek, not tonight. you can stay in this room tonight, and tomorrow maybe you will be up to talking. i have other business to attend to, so i will see you tomorrow at sunset.

and don't worry. i will not hurt the girl. too much.