Interview With The Assassin Q&A

"Have you ever taken anyone out for personal reasons?"

"Yes, about six years ago. I picked off my love Debby in a fit of rage."

"Can you tell us the thought process on that - and, uh, how not to piss you off?"

"It wasn't that kind of rage. It was true love and true love can never be forgiven. Her presence on this planet while not present in my life drove me over the edge."

"Can you say you regret that hit more than any other?"

"Going in that's what I expected. I was sure I was lying to myself but I was out of control at that time. The dream was dying right before my eyes. I had this voice screaming at me, "Make it stop! Make it stop!" It's hell when forces greater than yourself drive you. But to answer your question: no. In fact, it's the one I least regret. It just has never bothered me."

"Have you ever thought of conducting any other non-sanctioned hits?"

"I've mulled what it would be like to take out an investment bank CEO. Those guys never see any payback for what they do. I don't like people walking around feeling invulnerable. Take out two or three of those fuckers and the rest will be looking over their shoulders rest of their life. Instead, we get the government declaring these bozos above the law."

"So why didn't you?"

"I would have if I'd thought it'd accomplish anything. But once I saw the government say, "Don't touch these guys" and not a peep from anyone when they do that, that's when I know everyone is in it: the crooks, the voters, all the so-called proper people, the whole nine yards. The greed goes on no matter how many I kill. It's human weakness, you can't stop that with a gun."

"How many have you killed?"

"I'd rather not think about it so I don't."

"Does your profession pay well?"

"Once you get a reputation the dough starts rolling in. Starting out you basically gotta kill on spec. It's a bad feeling risking everything for a few lousy bucks. Once you get enough money to stay out of the system you start feeling a whole lot better. But until you make a name for yourself it's an awful lonely business."

"Aren't you lonely now? Are you able to have relationships?"

"You can't be attached to anything. You're invisible. You see guys trying to lead a normal life around that sometimes but it never works. Not for me anyway."

"Is there anyone you won't kill?"

"No. What difference does it make who you kill?"

"Is it true you let your victims pray as a possible way out?"

"If it comes up, yes."

"You have no fear of God?"

"There's only as much God in this world as we let in. Last time I checked there's not much to fear on that front."

"If you could choose another profession, would you? And what would it be?"

"I'd love a different profession. No fucking idea what it'd be."

"But surely as a child you didn't grow up thinking you'd be an assassin."

"No. All I knew was I wanted to get even."

"Even with whom?"

"Just even. Even with this crap world. I've always been a dreamer. And I always knew you assassinate dreamers. Kennedy, King, Lennon. You dream you die. No place for me."

"What did your parents think of this?"

"What parents? Us kids was the enemy. Finding out about us meant finding out about themselves. One thing I learned in all these years, no way people want to find out about themselves. They'll do anything not to know. I was on my own!"

"You sound angry."

"Goddam right I'm angry! I just want a normal life, dammit! You think sex with hookers is real? I can't be with anyone I want so what's the fucking point of anything? I'm out of the system but just as trapped. If I stop killing they kill me. It's not like in the movies where you can get away and blow them to bits. Jesus fucking Christ!"

"It seems you've based your whole life on the idea you can never have a normal life."

"Exactly! If I could have one wish, that would be it. But it's beyond even hope of hope. There's nothing legitimate to your "legitimate" world. It's a fucking farce anywhere but your deceived minds. I see all your fingerpointing. It's the media, it's the government, it's the freaks overseas, corporations, even me - always somebody else. You stinkers made this mess, nobody else."

"Is that why you claim satisfaction in killing?"

"All I know is I'm dying inside and I want you to feel what I'm feeling. I can't help it. I guess nobody can. We always want to make everyone like we are. So yes, to answer a previous question. I would not want to kill a happy person. There is that."

"But what if you were wrong? What if there had been a way to a normal life and you did all these killings for nothing? What then?"

"Well...that would be bad. It would be like we killed everyone for no reason then, wouldn't it? From Jesus to John, from dignitaries to drone strikes, from prisoners to the poor, all for nothing. I guess everyone convinces themselves they have no choice when they pull that trigger. God can't help us if we're wrong."

Interview With The Assassin

The problem with not having a commitment to one's life is that one doesn't know how far one has gone until one has gone too far. And that always leaves an aftermath of destruction. Maybe that's what got me into this business. I've got nowhere else to go. I can't live in your world. I don't want to live in your world. I assassinate your world. Nothing makes me feel better than taking you out.

Scary, huh?

How do you reason with the guy who enjoys killing you? That part of you that clings to a world who gives no recourse puts you in perpetual fear of the karmic boomerang that gives you no recourse. Yes, I am the monster you support. I am the one you ostracized, banished to the desert to die in the worst way possible to cover your own sins. I'm the last person you want to see showing up with a gun at your head. For me, every killing is a revenge killing.

Don't pretend to know my pain. That only makes me angrier. I already know who the other outsiders are by sight. We who live on the edges know perfectly well those who do not. The further inside you are, the more you accepted The Deal, the more I enjoy putting you out of your misery and hearing your children wail. You built your house on my back. I have the right to evict you. Did your children ever wail for those who you evict?

The beauty of this - my trump card ace in the hole - is that in the necessity of removing a killer like me from society you fail to realize you slam the nail in your own coffin, that the minute you pull that trigger, you become me; you are the horror. That's why the cycle of killing never ends. It's the killer within you need to get rid of, not me. But that's the problem with not having a commitment to one's life: one doesn't know how far one has gone until one goes too far. Only then is the truth realized. Kill me or let me live, either way you lose. Beautiful! Just like the choices you gave me.

Every assassin has his own approach. I can be a chameleon, though, taking different approaches as they suit me. Sometimes I feel like being clinical, concentrating solely on the perfection of my execution. That must be quite horrific to my victims, to see a robot devoid of feeling devoted to the singular task of ending your existence. You're simply on my To Do list and I have as much concern for you as you do for paying my rent. The ending of your life means my life can go on, simple as that. Ask any President and they'll tell you the same.

It's funny actually. Twice when I've been challenged in this mode I replied, "Just paying the rent." It made everything clear for them, understandable, and - funny enough - they had no moral argument in return. It can even be said they lost their anger. Observing that is when I knew just how corrupt your average person is. They too kill to pay the rent, just not as directly as me. Who refuses to put blood on their hands when facing the street?

Sometimes I look for something I hate in the person. I still long for belonging and acceptance and on occasion begin to recoil at my own deeds. In those moments I have to feel what I'm doing is justified. I hate those turmoil hits. There's always the danger the person is not as you surmise and you find a reason to cancel the job. But to cancel the job is to cancel yourself. It's only happened once but once is enough. The turmoil, you see, never stops from that moment going forward. Too many hits like that and you go mad. I wouldn't be the first assassin to lose his mind.

But most of the time I look for something I like in the person. I got the idea from the Iceman Kuklinski. He says this one time in a interview:

It was a man and he was begging, and pleading, and praying, I guess. And he was 'Please, God'n all over the place. So I told him he could have a half an hour to pray to God and if God could come down and change the circumstances, he'd have that time. But God never showed up and he never changed the circumstances and that was that. It wasn't too nice. That's one thing, I shouldn't have done that one. I shouldn't have done it that way.

I'm just the opposite. I want them crying out to God to save them, just like Jesus hung out to dry on the cross. Even I found something to like in you but God ain't coming, motherfucker! Believe me, I know! Forget what you need, you gonna bleed! I always tell them they can pray their guts out. I love hearing it! God got his rent paid already, sucker, you're on your own. These fools just be talking to the walls.

You people see this?

A weeping 12-year-old Philippine girl, asking the Pope how God could allow children to become prostitutes

And you know what the guy has got as a response? He's got nothing! "She is the only one who has put a question for which there is no answer." You're goddam right there's no answer. Show me an answer! Show me a way out of this hell. Show me a god who cares. You can't, can you? That's why you gotta die. Bang!

Returning Home From The Qonos Quasar Wars

I went to war to be her whore
By anger I had swore;
The edge blackness evermore,
Stars ending like the shore.

Only those who've seen the sight
Can ever know the fright;
Thrusting souls lost to light,
Place of no day or night.

Who controls the universe?
To trust it would be worse;
Or is that a Judas curse
To keep our truth averse?

Absorbed by the black hole's heart
The ending has no start;
Fighting just to die apart
In a waste that has no chart.

Have you seen the combat child

With seared eyes dark and wild?

In space the dead be not piled

And peace lulls most reviled.

Dark Lords deign holy blessing

With lips not found confessing;

Into the void we keep pressing

To claim love's joy oppressing.

So this is where our seeds are sown

In a quasar's deep unknown;

But I have heard the spirits moan,

"In hell we have no home!"

I am but a lowly beast

Uninvited to the feast;

But if liars are the least

Why not their efforts ceased?

Home world has the flower

That gives us fighting power;

The call of Spring time shower

Tells me this my wanted hour.

I am the foolish fighter,

A sinking soul, not lighter;

But God is my inciter

To make the future brighter.

Eighty trillion parsecs

Back home and to her sex;

Four hundred years in flex

Our lives but tiny specs.

Pulling from the black hole brink

I realize my heart's kink;

My armor's fatal chink,

I am the missing link.

I'll walk among the greens

And listen to their dreams;

I preserved their genes

Bursting at the seams.

No matter what I've seen

The home world lovely preen!

But I fall out of this dream

To find she too obscene!

Where gone her glad purity?

Her trees in obscurity.

Minds gone to insanity,

Feeding deadly vanity.

My precious life misspent!

They too spurn repent.

I'm as hollow as the hole,

My heart as dark as coal.

To redeem my wayward ways

I counted on their rays;

A planet in despair,

I choke upon this air.

How can I find true refuge

From internal world deluge?

Cast out in the black sea storm

Regretting to be born.

Running, stopping - both the same,

Only losers in this game;

A starving soul's empty bend,

A fucking literal dead end.

I looked to the world to save me

But a howling hell it gave me.

Burning letters do engrave me:

By my hand I did betray me.

A Day In The Life Of The Office

Breathe deep the gathering gloom,

Watch lights fade from every room.

Cold-hearted orb that rules the night,

Removes the colors from our sight.

Red is grey and yellow white.

But we decide which is right -

And which is an illusion.

It's the same every Sunday night. The looming dread of the slow-motion suicide of the morrow. In the office, the animals are free and the keepers caged. Joints of unreality are passed from one smiling, future-less being to another. Floating above the world in a corporate Christendom high, cybernetic organisms revolve the wheels of motion for better or worse, ever blindly forward. A three-piece freak's refuge, a prostitute's paradise for promotion, a universe without sun or stars, upon this meteor we ride to its final, inevitable conclusion. In God we mistrust.

Under the fluorescent sky I enter stage right. In the distance I see the ivory towers. We await the signal of white smoke and other mystic orders to guide us to the holy grail of Pyrrhic plastic profit. The galley slaves see not even this; advancement the surest sign of morality. The phone rings and my heart sinks to the bottom of a deep cold ocean.

"Hello, Tom. It's Vaselini. I need ask you favor. My lords need the project color-coded. It is vital to the well-being of the corporate."

No place on the globe is safe. My brain processes the heavy accent as I strain to translate the request because, after all, that's what I was put on this earth for. "You mean the project to have parallel lines intersect?"

"Yes, it's only one I work on needful."

Well, it's not the only one I work on needful! You expect me to keep track of everyone's projects? Fuck that and fuck this. "I can do that for you, Vaselini, but you'd have to give me a blow job first."

"You culturing is so strange! Just what is blow job, please?"

I strut down the gleaming hallway to her cube. "It's like this. First, get on your knees and open your mouth. Yes, that's it. You sure are understanding the American! Next, I will insert my penis until completion."

"How I know completion?"

"I trust your innate intelligence to know. That's the sort of faith I have in you!"

"Much the thanks!" After the swallowing she was not so grateful but still fearful to offend. "Actually, Tom, I'm not sure I can blow job for color coding. Could you in please anyway?"

"I guess. What a beating."

"Oh, thank the you! The lords need colors for understanding."

History will not speak well of us

I pass by the "Team Building Exercise" notice on the wall and smirk. They don't invite me anymore. It's where the person in front of you falls backwards and you're supposed to catch them. Both times I let them fall. Human Resourceless still gives me a dirty look every time I pass by. Aw hell, there's freaking Hayden in his cheerleading outfit waiting for me at my cave entrance.

"Hi, Tom! I just talked to the big bosses! Isn't that exciting! I know so many secrets! I'll be washing their cars later!"

"Damn, dude, you need some doggy downers."

"Big bosses are so smart! We've decided to make the parallel lines both blue and red at the same time! I just need you to tell me one thing first: what colors are blue and red?!"

In a moment of weak human impulse I slip back into the real world. "Blue and red together make purple. So you're saying you want purple."

"OK, great! But how can we make them be blue and red at the same time instead?!"

Kicked in the nuts again for acknowledging reality. I drew two black lines on some paper. "See, this one is red and this one is blue. We can make this work."

"Awesome! Only they both look the same color to me!"

"What? You can't tell the difference?"

"Haha! Of course I can! I'll just have to explain it to the big bosses!."

"You know, Hayden, if we lived in a world based on self-respect you'd look like a complete idiot right now."

"I know! Isn't this the greatest place ever?"

Hayden skipped away practicing a new cheer sure to cheer. I peer out around me at the beasts so confidantly unaware, seeking only the task ahead of them and nothing else. For them, this is The Way, a religion of high priests and low morals. I walk in a desert of mutual fiction, searching for crumbs of reality. I hear sounds of despair coming from Gina's office hole and dare to dream of hope.

"What a stupid project!" she spits in disgust. "Why are we wasting our time with this idiotic pursuit of having parallel lines intersect? We're an IT department, not magicians. This is absurd!"

"Hear! Hear!" I applaud. "Sometimes I think they consider reality the enemy. Other times I know it."

"I just want to be a productive person. Work is noble! This is how -" Gina was interrupted by a ringing phone. "Yes...Oh, of course!...I'm excited too. We'll be the first company to ever make parallel lines intersect. Quite the coup...I most certainly will take over the lead. I'm grateful to have more responsibility."

So Jesus was wrong. You can serve two masters here in the anti-world. When Gina hung up the phone I returned to my previous slouch of hopelessness. "Tom, I hear you're in charge of color-coding. I'm expecting you to come through for us. None of your usual attitude!"

"Don't worry. This work gives my life meaning."

"Way to go!"

I wander back to my defeated cave having learned my lesson daring to have hope. I stare at the monitor, arms folded, fucked and furious. Oh sure, I can come up with some bullshit that they will define as "success" to keep the party going. Their plush homes and new cars and carefully scrubbed children keep them ensconced in a bubble of seething rage knowing one day it must burst. No one cares about anything but staying in the bubble and delaying the day of reckoning. Those outside the bubble will just have to fend for themselves, live or die.

Fog enters my brain. Why care about anything? What is there to fight for? I too must stay in the bubble to eat. But I can't let these insanitists define reality for me. Where is the way out? Is God going to wait until we're all dead? I'm so tired of this mockery of reason. I stagger along hazed and defused (like I get to be every afternoon) to the meeting room to hear the state of our disunion.

Instant Section 8*. That's my greatest fear. At some point I'll finally slip, forget where I am, and let my true feeling show. The holographic image I must project in these public meetings takes an enormous amount of energy. I've actually laid my head down on the table in exhaustion before, having to claim illness. I place myself in the most anonymous spot possible.

The meeting is an insomniac's solution. Speaker keeps droning on, starting and stopping, never clear what he's saying, a spreadsheet of lines and numbers signifying nothing behind him. I start slipping, slipping, slipping...I cocoon myself in the part of me that insists life has meaning on this planet despite a complete lack of evidence. Boredom being the devil's workshop, I whip out my member in an effort to remain interested in life. I don't know how long it was out before I realized my faux pas and hastily stuffed it back in. Luckily no one noticed.

Later, on my drive home, I remember the security camera in the room's ceiling. Did it see my indiscretion?? I'm fucked for sure if it did! I'll be thrown out of the bubble, exposed in every sense of the word. What can I do? Not a fucking thing, like always! How can this not be the time of tribulation when all paths lead to death? I can't believe I'm in this mess, this web of torment. End the world! End the world and all that's in it! It was indeed a just God who did bring the flood.

* Section 8 military discharge for being mentally unfit. "Instant Section 8" refers to a phrase in "Full Metal jacket" describing the scene of a soldier who became a chronic masturbator. When sent for evaluation, he masturbated in the waiting room, an "instant Section 8".

Un-Deliverance

Ugh, salt water.

That was my first thought as I regained consciousness with a slap from the ocean spray. The sky was a complete grey gloom of clouds with patches of darkness looming ominously within. The first impression in the drowsiness of my fog was what a magnificent picture of horror this tapestry in the sky, of how I would love to paint this darkness and memorialize for all time. "See what truly lies deep in the ocean!" I'd proclaim.

Then I realized I wasn't safe. The choppiness of the waters had me rising and falling like a roller coaster and if I got too much water in I'd surely sink. This was my first moment of a growing, dreading panic. What was I doing here anyway? The ocean is not my friend when alone.

The storm. There had been a terrible storm on the ship. I hit my head running to safety as I heard the orders to prepare for gale winds. What was it I hit? Did I fall? I can't remember. But how did I end up on this lifeboat? Did the ship go down and I the only survivor? But why save me? And if they were trying to save me then why no provisions here?

Oh, my God. I'm going to die at sea.

I crumpled back down in despair, trying to retrace the timeline, to find the missing piece of information that might save me as the charcoal grey of darkness swallowed me whole, unseen to any eyes human or angelic, sharing the fate of so many ancient mariners. My spine went cold. Should I simply jump overboard and drown now? I must know what happened!

I was knocked out. The ship was in trouble. They must have placed me in the lifeboat for safekeeping. And then, the ship sank with only me surviving? But someone would have had to detach the craft. Maybe that was the last act of someone before being swept overboard. But if someone had time to release the mechanism they certainly had time to climb aboard. It just doesn't make sense!

Nothing. There's nothing here at all. Wait a minute. What's wrong with this picture? I can't quite grasp it...

I'll have to remember later. My stomach is churning, my mind is paralyzing in fear. Don't give up yet. The horizon! Search the horizon, you fool!

Bouncing on the waves I squint my eyes. I have no sense of direction or where I came from. I find a point and slowly scan, making sure beyond all doubt before moving on. Of course, if the ship has sunk there will be nothing to find. Actually, it had to of since with this would leave them with no lifeboat. It would be insane - and legally negligent - to jettison their one backup. It makes sense now. Something broke. That's how I managed to detach. No other possible explanation.

A strange calmness came over me. Suddenly, a surreal serenity took over, surrendering to the awesome power of nature upon the high sea. I just wanted to be swept away, to stop fighting the flow. How glorious would that be if I could do that and live? If I could just lay down and let Nature guide me to safety. I'd never felt such peace ever in my life as in this most hopeless of all hopeless moments in my life. Was I becoming insane, disconnecting from all reality?

The urge to lay back down and drift was overpowering, to pretend there really is a God who cares, that I really don't have to do everything on my own. Surrender! This is the here and now, no need to understand what can't be known. I have a good guess what happened, just let it go. In the morning light would come clarity. The horizon is blank.

I lay my head down and relaxed. This would be kind of fun if the danger were removed! I felt a strange guilt enjoying it, like some sort of amusement park ride. Still, I don't know how I'll manage to sleep with the hands of doom gripping my neck in a seemingly inescapable choke hold. All I can do is set my mind free; drifting, bouncing, guided by forces over which I have no say...

The transponder!

The transponder is missing! How can that be? I remember the crew explaining it's bolted in as a precaution. No way for it not to be here. I lunged forward to the spot I remembered. The bolt holes were still there. Someone must have...

What the hell is going on??????? What really happened? This can't have been done on purpose! Think! Think! They didn't leave me out here. I just can't fathom...

Wild gyrations fluctuated through my mind, flashing between terror and hell. No, no, no, no, no. They didn't set me adrift. What did I do? Yes, I was an outsider but... Think of a good reason for it being gone. I can't! You're doubting your fellow man. You and your bad attitude again! But nothing else makes sense. See? This is why people bristle with your negativity. Why can't you see the good? I'm only trying to be honest. Isn't that the goal? Hah! Like there's an honest bone in your body. No wonder they dumped you.

Confused, drowning in disbelief, I sat back up, furious to find to some clue - any clue! That's when I saw the speck of light. Those motherfuckers didn't sink after all!

Part of me desperately wanted to cry. What utter rejection. To set me adrift at my most vulnerable moment. Maybe...maybe there's something I haven't thought of...some comforting story to explain away the madness. I didn't have all the facts. Why assume the worst? How did I get into this situation? I must be the greatest fool alive! No one but I could have this happen. Un-fucking-believable. A nightmare to end all nightmares. That is my end.

The loneliness of this moment at the mercy of man and high seas. Abandoned by the universe. My whole life I'd struggled to find deliverance. I've been foolish in my choices. Now I see the sum total of my idiocy. Were they laughing as they unbolted the transponder and released me to my fate? Had I drawn out some urge in them to humiliate me - to death? I'd been what I thought expediently silent on the stupidity of their notions as I thought on such a small ship best not to make waves. I never wanted to suspect treachery like this, though.

To hell with it. I'll go back to my original desire for the morning light. Logically, I had no reason to find hope in that. The water was here. The water was there. The water was everywhere. Game over. Regardless, for once, I'll follow my instincts. And somehow I knew doing that would piss off my betrayers. I would have the last laugh!

Jesus! I must be losing it! How can you expect to have the last laugh, dead man?

Then I noticed something. Can't be! The light is getting brighter. They're heading straight for me! Oh, you fool! You idiot! Always thinking the worst. Remember, when you get back on board never for a moment betray your doubts. Act like you never suspected a thing. Oh, heck maybe they had given in to a sudden impulse of cruelty and were now steaming back in a storm of regret. Forgive them and make peace until you get back on land. Land! I'll never leave goddam land again!

A searchlight beamed out from the bow. I could hear voices. They sounded merry. That's a good sign, right? Happy to get me back. I'll lie my fucking head off. No more honesty for me! I'll have to fake like hell I'm one of them for the next few days - which seems like an eternity at the moment. But certainly not impossible in the course of history of human events.

So why was my stomach sinking at the very point of my salvation? Fuck you and your goddam integrity. It's going to get me killed. I'll be honest again when I'm safe back on land. What's the point of being honest and dead? Live to fight another day!

Still, my stomach sank and my mind revolted at the return of the ship. Keep under control! Here it is!

Everyone was on the edge facing me. They had drinks raised high, laughing at my position, hailing in mockery, "Bon voyage!" I wished I'd had the spirit to lash back at them but I was too dumbstruck to even twitch my open mouth. This pleased them, as if proving them to be in the right. I was so overwhelmed at this point I was swayed to believe them. Part of me too believed I deserved this.

As they swooshed on through the waves yelling out "Bye-bye!" I saw a crewman holding up the transponder in victory. "Good riddance, you ..." What he said after was garbled by the waves. Shattered, I fell back down, gripping my seat. So this is me. Should I give in to their judgement? Wasn't I just being self-serving to believe any different? Part of me was sure I was better than they thought - the rest of me was sure I was left to die at sea come what may.

How could I fight back? I've never been so frustrated and outraged in my life!! Should I just let it go like I was before? I couldn't. I felt too much like an idiot - plus I wanted to fight back in righteous anger! "I'm going to break your fucking necks if I get a hold of you!" And I wanted to point out they had no lifeboat now if they hit the reef. Take that! And another thing...

Oh, who am I kidding? I'm going to die and they will go on to live unpunished lives as the world is wont to do. Man, I just can't believe this planet. I'm certainly no angel. I just wish reason would be given a chance. Don't the bad guys ever pay a price? Doesn't the insanity have to end sometime? Certainly, if I had sold my soul to be a CEO I wouldn't be in the position I am now.

The night sky was shades of grey from a hidden moon. The water was calmer now. In one sense it was the perfect backdrop to do some thinking - and I certainly have a lot to think about. Wow. Just wow. Did all that really just happen? Is this a dream? I've had dreams like this before. Were those monsters simply carrying out Nature's orders to destroy me? The hatred in my heart pleaded for revenge.

That, of course, was impossible. They were pouring drinks and carrying on and fucking into the night. All I could think of was limiting their laughter. No way was I going to spend days at sea roasting under the sun with no water, my mind going mad oscillating between a hopeless hope and complete despair. "Cling to life, you moron!" I could hear them jeer. "Extend your misery!" I sat up and stared down at the silky, black waters so innocently at peace.

You'll be giving into anger. Remember how you said you didn't want to do that anymore? But this is different! Who wouldn't be angry? I mean, if anger were ever justified, this is it! Consider your heart. How does your heart feel? It feels bad but so what? I'm dead anyway. You really want me to believe this good feeling I have of just floating along here is really going to lead to something? That's all I've done my whole fucking wasted life is place faith in impossible dreams. Certainly it's high time I grew up and faced the facts!

My heart kept speaking but it was drowned out by the sound of the laughing ship in my mind. If I die now I can end the suffering. Nothing has ever worked out for me before. Helluva time to think it would start now! Even God must be shaking Her head at this fool. End your misery. God doesn't want you to suffer. You've never had faith before. Time to try before the end. Have the courage to quickly and decidedly drown in the cold waters.

A single tear dropped in the ocean from my overhung face. The longer I stared, the weaker I got, wanting to stay on. Time to face reality.

******

News reports told of a ship that had foolishly strayed right into the heart of a storm, sinking with all aboard. The route of her final hours made no sense and most likely the crew was not familiar with the path through the reef coming from the direction they did. Unexplained was why the lifeboat was not deployed.

Unreported was the story of a dingy washing up ashore that morning on an island inhabited by natives, a popular destination point for tourists. The boy who found it claimed he maybe saw footsteps leading away but the ensuing crowd trampled away any evidence. How could anyone make it there alive? It was not a lifeboat, it had no transponder. Most probably any occupants died at sea.

I Saw Fire In The Rain

I don't know what woke me up. It was in the deep of the night where you know things you don't want to know. I couldn't open my eyes more than halfway, my eyelids firmly resisting, already begrudging me what sight I had.

I noticed a glow from the bedroom window and looked outside to see a tree on fire in the rain. I wondered what was wrong, for either the tree was not really on fire or the rain was not really rain. Such clarity of confusion drove me mad, paralyzing me. Better I had stayed ignorant, part of me pleaded. "But I have to know," I responded. But I also knew the state of madness that held me in its grip was intolerable in the extreme.

Had I a glimpse of hell? Is this purgatory? That's certainly my feeling. This can't go on, so I turned away and went back to bed, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. Sure enough, the vision followed me to my dreams. "Why doesn't the rain put out the fire? Has Mankind become so perverse the laws of nature have reversed?" I was outside, in the rain, feeling the heat of the flames. When I woke up I ran to the window, this time eyes wide open, no tricks. But all was black in the moonless night.

Next morning I convinced myself it had never happened, that it had been a dream from start to finish. Mad tales like these get one ostracized. And, well, I wasn't too sure about me either after that. Mind playing tricks on me! "That's what purgatory is," I assured myself, "when you can't tell illusion from reality." So why was my heart pounding when I stepped out the door?



The ground was damp, the tree was burnt. But which had won, the fire or the rain? If only I hadn't turned away. Suddenly, to know this seemed the most important thing in the world; life or death. I'd missed my one chance, forced to live in forever ignorance the rest of my days, permanently damaged. All I'd wanted to do was turn away and sleep. I thought I was being cursed in a moment of blessing. If only I had faced it! Here in the sunlight I was brimming with useless courage, sort of like swearing to Heaven, "I can do it!" before coming here to die in fear.

I saw others walking with scared looks on their faces. Before I could finish my question they answered they were fine and would speak no more. Where is the hope in that? Then I overheard some passing talk of a person who'd stayed and watched eyes wide open, not running away like I had, able to lead a life I never can. The thought of that drove me insane with jealous rage. Someone like that could expose me. Die fucker die! He must be killed!

After the rage passed I was shaken. I'd felt the hatred of Jesus upon my heart. Who can I look in the eye now? I started running into the woods to hide. The living trees and birds greeted me in innocence and I felt both relieved and ashamed. After a time, then half a time again, I made my way back to the burnt tree as I knew I must. High up sat a woman on the edge of a branch bemoaning her plight in this world.

"I can't stand living anymore with you people! You must learn to behave!" In her right hand was a saw. She was cutting off her branch to spite her life. A crowd of mockers watched below.

"Better stop that cutting or you's will fall to the ground and breaks yur neck! Har, har, har!"

"See what I mean! So much negativity. I'm tired of hearing of doom and gloom. Show some support for once!"

"Ya dum cunt I IS supportin' ya! You's got ya brain wired wrong? Whatcha tryin' to prove up there sawing away like that anyways??"

"I'm trying to prove you can disagree without being disagreeable. And you, sir, are most disagreeable!" In the meantime demons wearing happy face masks climbed the tree to speak to the woman unheard by the mockers.

"Madam, please let me apologize for those godless heathens below. I and several others here fully support you and your endeavors. Someone must stand for civility in rude times like these!"

"Oh, thank God for a voice of reason at last! That's all I'm trying to say: give civility a chance."

"I and my friends quite agree, madam. We just want you to know not everyone is like those mockers below, that's there still quite a few who support reasonable discussion and manners, and we encourage you to the very utmost to never give in to the negativity and the doomsayers and stay the course with your sawing!"

"Thank you, thank you! I feel a thousand percent better. I must admit I was having my doubts but -"

At that point the branch broke and she fell breaking her neck. The masked demons up in the tree screamed in outrage to the mockers below. "See what you devils made her do? If you had supported her she'd be alive right now!" The mockers dispersed in silence seeing the speaker was not a reasonable person. "Got nothing to say, do you? I knew I was right!"

That night I was afraid to go inside my house so I sat out on the front steps. I wondered how to talk. No one would speak to me of the burning tree but it was easy to tell they had seen it too! And that woman wouldn't listen to the truth either, like you had to sell it to her. But you can't sell the truth and you can't make people talk even when you know they're lying. What to do? What to do...

I went inside and wrote a story of how I had a dream of seeing a tree burning in the rain. When people read it they said they really liked it and their eyes lit up like it was a relief. "What a crazy dream!" they'd remark to protest their innocence. One thing I changed was to say I stayed at the window and kept my eyes wide open until the very end. Of course, I had to imagine what I saw then but I'd use that and wait to be corrected by someone who really was brave and could tell me the actual truth. No one ever corrected me. Damn.

These are the words of him who is holy and true, who holds the key of love. What he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open. I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. I will make those who are of the synagogue of silence, who claim to be believers though they are not, but are liars—I will make them come and fall down at your feet and acknowledge that I have loved you. Since you have kept my command to endure patiently, I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come on the whole world to test the inhabitants of the earth.

I Heard The Sound Of Seven Horns (NSFR)

On a planet in the far reaches of the galaxy sounded the Seven Horns, sending shock waves throughout the universe. The Sound-No-One-Wished-To-Hear was heard at last. "Beautiful! Our world is beautiful!" they lied and cried until their truth could not be denied. At that moment, life and death became the same to them. "If this is life, why live?"

In Torment-That-Must-End came the decision for the end. Let Nature take its wrathful course. As each of the Seven-Horns-Of-Resolution sounded, at last the inhabitants got the answer they craved in the inescapable flash of a nuclear winter holocaust. Not a creature was spared.

********

In Darkness-Without-End were many, unable to see even the hint of a shadow. In madness they clawed out in vain, having always done What-Was-Expected they found no guidance. Stumbling in the absolute pitch they cried out for death, unable to see even a way to end their agony.

In the twilight edge raged The-Endless-War. They knew not for what they fought, only the false axiom "There must be war." Raging in the twilight that never fades was a frenzy without purpose. As the bodies piled higher Victory was claimed until no bodies were left.

A Wall-Of-Fire passed through gathering germs, scorching filth worn as makeup. Wallowing in muddy pits claimed to be the origins of life roasted many squealing piglets. They held up the Book-Of-Truth as their protection only to be burned by the holding of it.

The Ice-Chamber chilled from within in places of frozen beauty. To the eye, the great halls and houses still stood, green with iced grass and icicled trees. Those iced in slammed their bodies against their ice cage in futile freedom until their bodies cracked and shattered.

Worm-Holes formed, surrounded by great wiggling worms who called out in siren sacrifice. To escape worldly woes many jumped in, falling to the planet's middle where equal gravity trapped them forever.

The Cloud-Of-Power stormed through exuding lightning bolts no one could withstand. In hopes of controlling the cloud many joined with its hoped invincibility but were slowly sizzled in electric soup as their nerve endings frayed into disintegration.

A Great-Rust layered their objects of great desire. With the vanishing of rules any were for the taking but the rust did not sleep as it entered the bodies of those who grasped in possession. Eyes begging for rest staggered wildly wishing to see no more.

********

Some surrendered to the Light crying, "Love! There is only Love!" They knew not what else to say for they knew not what else was true. But to those who harkened to the Seven-Horns the Cry-Of-Love sounded as death to them.



Eagles - The Last Resort by arntho