This one is called: Fight Back

“Geez Louise! Why you gotta be so whack?”

She scoffed at that.

“Lay off me bro, I’m just not down with that.”

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The End of Gay

1984 was a whack year. If that even is the year it was. It was one of those things you thought was a movie, and then it did not end so you hoped it was a dream; so you fantasize about waking. And then you got hit and realised you were not sleeping. It was real, and while you were failing to recognise reality, talking about how everything is not real and all is nonexistent, you ended in being someone else’s meal. Sad really, but today, that is not the story we are telling.

Now is the year after 2016. Everything is changing but the attitude toward change is remaining unchanged despite living in a world that needs changing. Everything is good but the people, and they are who are to be leading. The learning man gets the rope, the cats and dogs get chained and locked away, while at the helm and leading is scum, and some guy with scurvy. This tale though is not about the ruling trash, not about the ropes and the chains, nor the beating of the drums. This is one of those real life things that fairy tales are made from, and where fairies get their sparkle drained from.

Ha. The story is untold but the telling has already been done. Welcome to the new reign; 1984 is done.

The body speaks for itself

She said, “I used to be a dreamer like you, you know. A long time ago.” She peered off into the distance, as if looking for the very moment she gave up on her dream. “I used to be a dreamer like you,” she repeated, “until my whole world was just…sucked away.” Suck said for itself how it felt, and the feeling was plastered all over her face so that you didn’t need to imagine the dismay. Like may was lost and then suddenly disappeared. Like hope was all you had and it was slaughtered before your face before you even reached the corner around which you would find it after turning right and going down the road a bit. She said it with such feeling in a monotone, and though talking, was far from me. She said she had never thought it before, that something like that could happen. “I mean of course they talk about these things existing but you think ‘Never in a million years’ and by then you’ll be dead so of course you would never get to see it!” She was rambling to herself by this, having already completely forgotten that I was there. Her exasperated breaths add wonder to her disposition, and you wonder that a thing could be so alive yet so empty in the same instant. Not quite opposites but close, like death and youth juxtaposed in one like H and O. Like you wanna be near it but you’re scared it could blow. Like “‘Whoa o.O!’ and ‘Oh O.Q ..'”

“Wait a minute…” She slowly comes back and gains awareness of her environment. She looks at me, and laughs at whatever expression I was making, not like I was funny, but like her mind just queued laughter. So she was laughing. It was sudden and sweet and over in a minute. She fanned her hand as if waving away the memory of the place she had just been so she could return to where I am.

“I mean, I literally watched my home planet get sucked away into a black hole.” She was like, “Who the bloody hell ever thinks of seeing THAT happen?! [With the gestures and expression of “WhatTheFuck” Universe moments], am I right?”

Photo courtesy of: #ToyPhotographer

For Very Life

“Dance with me,” she said. “Take my hand and dance with me as the smoke with the wind. Take my hand and dance with me like the flames of a smoldering fire joins in arresting elegance with the air, stealing the air from it as if for very life. For very life! A dance which is so wild with passion as it is with urgency, so that they never can stop pulling and pushing at each and the other, yet are bound together by their need of one another. And for one another. Dance with me and I shall kill you where you stand in the swiftest instance of your entire existence. You will see it coming barely in time to die, just wishing you never had developed a taste for dancing as you awaken in your new life, still barely realizing your death. You will not dance with me. There will be no dancing here. Think of it like the opera: sit down, keep quiet and try to keep up, and then quietly sneak out during the intermission,” she said.

“I guess that’s what I get for asking a foolish question.” That did not amuse her. Right, keep quiet she said.

 

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*Photo Credit to #ToyPhotographer See for yourself

Word: Grim

Grim. That’s the only word I can use to describe it. Grim. I grit my teeth and try to mask the disgust I feel starting to show on my face. My once soft, feminine features have been hardened by the grim realities of this time. I do what I can but there is just so much I can do and no more. How can one little half-woman save the world?

As I hear the high pitched scream of a pre-pubescent child, not more than 10 years old, I am forced out of my mind and back to the present. “It is none of my business,” I tell myself. “This has nothing to do with me. Walk away Aeither, this is not your fight.” But whose fight was it, that of a 10 year old child?

I grit my teeth and rush toward the sound of the screams. “No! PLEASE!” It was the voice of a little girl. “Aow.” She started crying. You could hear the tears in her pleas for whomever to stop. I rounded the corner to find complete darkness, and the silhouette of the monster of a man leaning over a little thing in the corner.

“Hey!” I shouted, “What the fuck is going on here?” There was no response. I strained my eyes to see something, to determine if this was some sort of lure or trap. The criminals of this age are crafty and conniving little shits, setting traps for idiots like me. With caution, I continued to move closer. “Did you hear me you fucking piece of shit?!” What was I saying? I didn’t even have a weapon. The child screamed anew, “Help! Please…!” She was pleading between her tears.

With that I ran forward again, it seemed like miles. The monster barely even stopped to look up at me. I finally got to within feet of them after what seemed like too long, and grabbed the man by his collar, intending to pull him back. He barely budged. Finally he stopped to look up at me. His face had several small scratches, where the child had tried to defend herself.

“Nutten yah suh nuh concern yuh, gwaan bout yuh bizniz.” Like fucking hell it doesn’t. I was only about a foot and a half from him, who was still bent over the child. I looked down at her and thought she looked far younger than 10. Her hair was done in cornrows and reached the top of her shoulders, her clothes were torn almost to shreds, face stained with tears, pulling her knees up to try and protect herself.

“Like fucking hell it doesn’t!” Looking around, I realised that this was a construction site, for a new house it seemed. Concrete blocks, bars of wood and various other construction things were laying around. I grabbed a nearby block of wood and swung it at him, breaking it over his back. This only seemed to make him angry, but at least it got his attention away from the child and onto me. Which wasn’t exactly a good thing, because when he stood up to his full height, it was like Gandhi facing Shaq. The fuck did I get myself into?! Fucking screaming children! For a moment, I contemplated whether I even liked children, and whether I shouldn’t have just gone on my merry way home to rewatch the Big Bang Theory again. Too late for that now.

Shaqzilla pulled a knife and came at me. “Why do I keep getting myself into this shit,” I said to myself as I slowly began to back up and out of the dark. I miscalculated my direction and ended up with a wall to my back.

“Yuh naav noweh fi go now,” Shaqzilla said, grinning. He disgusted me. I looked up at him bent over to be closer to my height, and saw him preparing to swing the knife at me. His face was far too close and I couldn’t smell any alcohol on his breath. The piece of shit was just doing it because he liked it!

At the last moment, I ducked and ran between his wide open legs, and swung the other piece of the wooden block against the back of his left knee. As he buckled, I whacked him on the head as hard as I possibly could. He shook his head and was turning around when I whacked him again, this time in the face, right on the nose. The block broke again in half, too short to be of anymore use.

His scream was the most horrifying sound I’d ever heard come from a human being, which perhaps he really wasn’t. As blood gushed from his clearly broken nose, I thought for a moment about getting the child and running. But then I wondered what he’d be doing tomorrow night, or the night after that. Looking around again, I saw a pile of blocks nearby. Fuck what the humanists say, screw the law! Some things don’t deserve to live, not even in prison. Even Siberia was too good for this scum.

In the direction of the child I said, “Look away and put your finger in your ears,” not checking that she complied. I took up the closest concrete block, and slammed it on his head as hard as I could. It was strange how long he took to look about his nose instead of attempting to get rid of me. I remembered the rules the protagonist used to stay alive during the zombie apocolypse in the movie Zombie Land: double tap.  I hit him once more on the head, and then another time just for insurance.

As I looked down at him, I realised that just as with every other thing, monsters don’t look so scary when they’re dead, they just look dead. It was my first time killing a man, but I felt nothing. Grim fucking world we’re living in.

Now the only question was, what the fuck am I gonna do with this kid?