by Garret Ford
My cat is sitting on the top of a post in a field; she sits hissing at something that I can't see in the tall grass.
“Why is your cat so far from home?” He said.
“Dad, stop! That's my cat.” I said
“She can find her way back-.” He grumbles.
My dad stops the car. I get closer. My cat is hissing and snarling. I approach slowly, quietly, making kissy noises to my cat. She ignores me and is hissing and snarling at something. A pack of dogs are on the other side of the fence, completely hidden in the tall grass but focused on the cat. They jump up at her and she bats at them away.
“Kitty, Kitty, Kitty.” I called softly, startled- she jumps; not towards me, towards the dogs.
The dogs tear into her. I try to save her, I start kicking and punching. I am not even worth biting at. I can't save her. I watch as they pull my cat from different angles. Horrifying caterwauling unlike anything I had heard before. I can try and fight but I am not strong enough.
“Get out of the damn way!” My father yells.
Wrecking ball, he kicks one dog off my cat like a rag doll. He stomps them with his heavy leather boots, smashing downward with his great ham fists, the bold hounds bay at him.
“Get to the fucking truck!” He yelled, my legs don't work.
The biggest dog lunges, and my dad kicks it squarely in the chest. The dog whimpers and runs away, limping, and yelping. My Dad grabs my cat, still being torn between two dogs and punches the dog on the right in the head. The dogs yelps and releases drops the cat and flees, the other one follows. My cat is bloodied and broken.
“Take her from me.” My dad said.
My cat is bleeding all over me. I cradle her in my arms. Her breath is weak and gets weaker as we drive. A leaking water balloon.
“Fucking dogs.” He swore.
“Dad, my cat is going to die.” I said.
“The dogs tore her to pieces. Did they get you?” He asked.
“No.” I said.
I can feel her life flowing out. My hands are stained in her blood. She meows weakly.
“Dad, what can I do?” I asked.
“Talk to her so she feels safe.” He said.
I sing her the theme song to a TV show and pet her gently. I am responsible. Stupid, if only I hadn't gone to pick get her.
“I can't stop the bleeding Dad.” I said. “She's dying.”
“Poor thing.” My dad said, sneezing- he’s allergic to cats.
My cat grows still. Insides outside. Bloody mess caked in her fur. Her eyes fix, dry. My body goes numb. I can only feel my hands clutching her broken bloody body. Moments ago, my cat was alive.
“She died?” He said.
“She's dead.” I choke out between sobs.
He slows the truck down, eventually stops, and goes silent.
“Remember what Socrates said, since we don't know exactly what death is then we should never mourn those who pass who are in pain.” He said.
“She was a good cat.” I said, petting her still warm body.
“So it goes.” He was good at quotes, when speechless.
We drove the rest of the way home in silence, the smell of blood fouling the cab of the truck.
There is only one target left, I cross the two names off my list and stalk towards the my final target. A personal target. The others were ideological- traitors against humanity. The final one, the one that had given such a grievous insult to my person, they were the last to die. I reload my rifle, in the empty hallway. Lock down protocol wouldn’t save them though.
I would find them, and I would kill them all.
Nobody can escape my wrath.
Sing to me now damned Muse,
With the scent of lye,
And rotting flesh.
Lord of flies,
Lord of lies,
Command your minions elsewhere,
Carcasses, bone, rotten flesh, necro-globe
Veni
Veni
Mephistopheles,
Loyal servant
Tell me of hell and heaven?
Hell is a fable,
Concocted by other people.
The hell-scape horizon of…
Bone…..
Flesh….-
Blood…--
Tears..---
Offal.----
Sinews-----
Stench----.
Repugnus---..
Rot--…
Seeds are planted-….
The memory fades. The pain remains.
The next holocaust--
Brave new world.-
Pain and worship-..
Sun-shaded emperor rises from his forbidden garden.
Yawning imps. Whisper the dreams unforgotten.
My metallic ears. Dread thunder and riotous contempt.
The dragon awakens.
Mote to mote, the end comes.Milk of Lilith.
What have you wrought?
The rabbits flee to their burrows.
Third eye- Open the gate
What lies beyond the final door of perception?
The painter is lost inside the gallery.
The easel is broken now.
The brushes are frozen. My hand is forced.
I wrought this horror.
Woe to the living, woe to their ancestors, woe to the world.
I have no eyes and I must weep.
The great tower falls.A new tower rises.
Arise, great iris.Bring order.
Witness me.Observe.Report.
Punish.Praise.
Repeat. Review. Repeat.
Please read the entire end user agreement.
I agree. Exit.
Chapter 13
“Beware your actions, your present is another’s past.”
Chelsea N. Oppenheimer
Silence in the night air. My roommate and I sit on the swings in the park. Back and forth. The night air is cold. I should have brought a heavier coat. We sit and smoke cigarettes and sway slowly as the chains creak like a ghostly haunting. Just us. The only two things in the universe. Hanging in space, objects in motion.
The winter sky is clear and the stars twinkle above us. She dragged me out here in the middle of the night for some reason saying she needed to talk. Now we were out here, she is silent. She sits and flicks ash off the end of her stumpy Chico cigarette. She is wearing a long black coat and fuzzy boots for our lark in the park.
“Smoke what I smoke.” I say as I light my cigarette.
“Those bitch sticks? No.” She laughs at my Morley.
“Classy.” I raise my eyebrow, try to blow a smoke ring, and fail.
“Try hard.” She takes a drag, blows a perfect smoke ring.
I wave like the queen. She laughs.
“Whatever turns you up.” I toss my cigarette butt out.
The moonlight reflects off her pale skin. Tall, nice hair, pretty smile. I don't know how we became friends. Too many parties and too much beer in between point the A to B. Opposites now best friends, how we came to live with each other was a mystery too. Odd winding road, people who you should hate you end up loving, and people you love you end up hating. Polarities reverse too though.
“What did you want to talk about?” I poke her side.
“Can you keep a secret?” She pokes me back.
“What kind of secret.” I asked.
“Something I hate.” She said.
“Tell me before I freeze to death.” I said.
“…-” She looks down at her feet and kicks the gravel.
“Was that it?” I lean over, more concerned than before.
“You don’t hate me?” She said.
“Nah, I thought you were going to tell me you were an android, alien, time traveler, or fairy. You are still my bestie.” I said, smiling.
The chains swing creak, then hang silent in the cold winter air.
“I’m here for you, regardless of ...” I said.
She stared at her feet; I swung over, gave her a hal
f arm hug.
“Let’s always be friends.” She said, choking back tears.
“Look to the sky.” I said and pointed up to the aurora borealis.
“Lovely night.” She said.
We sat in silence admiring the night sky.
“Hey, time for some Eric Clapton?” I asked, mischievous.
“You never change.” She laughed.
I push myself back on my swing and get ready to launch myself through the cold night air. I take one last big swing backward and jump.
For a moment I am airborne.
Nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. I land on my feet, for once, and two small craters form around my feet. The descent of the fallen angel. Growing up in this small town, I’m the only one that dreams of leaving. Or maybe not, maybe everyone wants to leave, but can’t. The red string of fate is a bitch.
My mom honks the horn on her Beige car. My friend was nice enough to wait with me after school today. I get up and walk through the melting snowy playground. The last of the snow crunches under my shoes. I get into the passenger side seat and brush the snow from my hair. I'm wearing my brother's black leather jacket over my school uniform. Spring awakening.
“No winter coat?” She said.
“Spring is starting.” I lied.
“Wear your winter coat, even if it is warm out the weather could turn- and if I am late coming to get you-” She said.
No reason to argue; damn wearing an awkward puffy down coat and wellingtons to school. I’d cool, even if I’m cold.
“You always could get me on time-” I roll my eyes.
Poison barbs. I am piece on an Othello board. Divorce does that. I have no bearing on how the details of the game play out. I merely change hands between the two players periodically. Only natural. I breathe onto the window and draw a cat in condensation. The car sputtered, the tires spin, we bumbled down the road. I take my gloves off and I warm my hands by the heater. The drive home is silent as usual. A parent has certain look when things are hopeless and they don’t want to say. They can only watch the car crash.
Suddenly- rear ended- I fly forward, my seat belt saves my face from becoming a Picasso painting. My mom shrieks, stops the car, and gets out of the car. She starts arguing with the other driver. I feel at home. She shuffles back to our Beige car with a scrap of paper and a scowl on her face.
“You okay?” She looks over me as she gets back in the car.
“Yeah-.” I mumbled unsure.
“Don't tell your father about this.” She said.
“Is it bad?” I said.
“I'll need a new bumper. Fucking asshole.” She said.
I realize, this is first time I ever heard my mom say “fuck.” The snow lay over the town, a funeral shroud. I turn on the radio to break the awkward silence. A noisy radio jock yammers about the weekly top forty charts. I bob my head to the music.
Almost home. Not that I wanted to be there. I wanted astral project myself into my Uncle's rumpus room so I can sleep on those funny smelling paisley patterned cushions and watch weird movies. We stop at the corner mail boxes to get mail.
Melting snow, gravel, and ice have turned the road into a rink. I never had balance to learn to skate; worst Canadian ever. I got to the mailbox and shove the key into the lock. I open the creaky metal door and ease out a stack of junk-mail and bills. Needs and wants. Distracted by a march madness I am now falling. Land on my knee, blood on the ice, tear in my uniform. Fuck, sincerely worried about ruining my school uniform for a moment more than my scrapped knee. Fainting at the slightest scratch. Cold dust. Too late. Darkness swirls consuming reality into swirling colours. A reprieve, I forget I was alive.
“Are you alright?” My friend asks me.
“I don't know-” I said.
“We are almost at the hospital.”
“I didn't know who to call-” I apologize humiliated.
“Shush, focus of not fainting.” She said.
I flicker back to reality. I am in my friend's Mauve Mini-van. I look over at her, she is concentrating hard. She has short brown hair, green eyes, and a perpetual tan courtesy of the Summer Sun tanning Salon. She is tall and athletic, her grip is firm as takes my hand. Her hand is hot, or I’m that cold.
“You're cold, do you want me to turn the heat up?” She said.
“I'll be okay. How much further?” I said wearily.
“Not far, can you walk to emergency?”
“I will do it.” I shake my head.
Hospital, wheel chair is brought out, I see a distortion, I have been here before. Déjà vu? No. Trick of the light. Waiting. Boredom. Dizzy. Intake. Rubber stamps, ID card. Hard bed with curtains, I undress, don the horrible green hospital gowns. The nurse comes and attaches me to a machine; it relays my heart rate with beeps and blips. I hate chiptune music. Six years ago? That night. Similar song. I hear crying down the hallway.
The doctor enters; her long white coat immaculate. The light in the ER obscures her facial features. Questions? I reply, poorly.
“A simple faint.” She puts the cold metal stethoscope to my chest. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Has this happened before?” She said, pursing her lips.
“Yeah, my whole life. It is awful. I haven't had it happen for awhile- usually happens if there is blood- I'm a wimp.” I laughed.
“Syncope, simple fainting. Basically, you are too sensitive to certain stimuli and when that stimulus happens you faint--” She continued on prattling on in medical terms that I didn’t understand.
“Like a scratched CD?” I asked.
“More like sitting on the skip scene button on your remote. Losing time, seizing, and all common with this sort of thing. Nothing to worry about. What caused the faint?” She shrugged as he spoke.
“This.” I show her a cardboard cut.
“Stay home for the day and follow up with your family doctor.” The doctor takes my hand and looks at the cut.
“I never knew what was wrong with me until now, will I ever get better?” I asked quietly, hopefully.
“No, Your brain is wired this way.” She shrugged.
“Thanks Doc.” I frowned.
“Don’t beat yourself up for how you’re made, change what you can, and accept the rest.” She said, leaving the room.
I change clothes quickly, I forget to take off the sensors. I meet my friend in the waiting room. She gives me a hug.
“Did you find out what was wrong?” She asked.
“I’m a fainting goat.” I said.
“Sure spooky, you are very much alive.” She laughed.
I don’t correct her, because it is funnier this way. She drives me across town to a diner for lunch.
“Is the pulled pork here any good?” I asked the waiter.
“Very good.” He said, proudly.
“I’ll try it I suppose.” I said.
“Gimme the Fish Tacos.” She said, greedily.
“That isn’t on the menu.” He said.
“I’m sure your chef is creative enough.” She said.
The waiter left, rolling their eyes.
“You always ask if the pulled pork is good, but you always eat the same thing here.” She said.
“I don’t want them to catch on that I’m boring and order the same thing every time.” I said.
“Clever girl.” She said, tapping her lips.
We lunch, I’m still woozy, but the food and company helps.
“Thank you.” I said.
“You’re welcome friend.” She said.
“You dropped everything to help me.” I said.
“I was happy you chose to call me.” She smiled.
She stops the van at my house.
“Home.” She smiled.
I sat in silence for a moment.
“I’m sorry, I’m not fun to be around lately. It is hard not working and things going bad with everything and I called you today…” I spewed my shame, a prolapsed anus sputtering shit.
“Stop!” She shou
ted at me.
I stopped, turned, and looked at her for a moment, then looked down. Embarrassed at my pathetic display, my eyes a mop and bucket, sopping up a soiled hospital bathroom floor.
“Never apologize for being yourself; we’re friends because of who you are, not how you doing.” She said, hugging me.
“This is okay. I’m going to be okay.” I think to myself
“Thank you.” I repeat, with tears.
I repeated the kind words I was told that day as I laid in bed that night. For the first time in ages, I had good dreams.
Life is chaotic, but chaos always changes.
Whore of Babylon, sing and dance.
Erstwhile saints,
Sinners flock to the swollen glass teats.
Mighty and beastly they suckle,
Milk of malefaction. Frothing from the corners,
Of their mouths-
Demented child suckling with-
Gleaming greed, hungering hatred.
Green leaves fall from steel trees.
Anarchy is sinned against monarchy; the great king of fear returned.
Rise to the streets, the great silent majority.
Neon Nero dances,
The Vatican burns.
Song of sparrows are drowned by the wailing of widows.
Locust consume, sparrows fly away-
New flesh to lay eggs in.
Our children forgot.
Skull throne,
Bone pillars,
Entrails lake.
We will remind them.
Reigns down from the sky.
Beautiful things grow,
A new fertile orchard.
The children of men and beasts water the saplings.
Willow trees are torn asunder,
Plowed under, another apple orchard.
Fruit of man, fruit of woman.
They ate Malice, from the tree of knowledge.