angelion

Resurrection

The bright light pouring in through curtains begins to strain my pupils as I open my eyes. In defiance, my eyes close again, presumably in an effort to try to gain some focus of my surroundings. All I can see is the large ceiling fan that adorns my bedroom. I know it’s my bedroom because of the slight crack in one of the fan blades that I put there one time in frustration. The whirring of the blades is almost successful in drowning out the traffic, but it’s fighting a losing battle. As I roll onto my left, I see that it’s almost 8:30am. Rush hour. The sound of the running engines and bustling streets is nothing compared to the headache. This feels different. This feels…odd.

Wait. I should be dead. I should be chilling with Saint Petey and kickin’ it with Jesus’ homeboys. This cannot be heaven. I jumped off the edge of that damned bridge. I couldn’t have survived. I’d be in hospital. This makes no sense. The shower suddenly stops and a voice calls out. It’s Anna.

“I let myself in, you hungry? I know I sure am. A coffee would be great right now.”

She was almost polite. For Alice. She wasn’t the most caring of people, so I guess I should be grateful for not receiving an ear bashing. I still don’t understand what’s going on. It makes no sense, but then again nothing does before a caffeine fix.

“Sure, I’ll uhh..put the kettle on.” I replied, somewhat disorientated.

Coffee fixes everything, even the world’s bigger problems. Do you see great leaders making groundbreaking peace treaties over a cup of 7UP? I think not. Once I’ve had a cup, I can begin to try and work out just what’s happened. Maybe it was all a dream and I never had the balls to go through with it. Who was I kidding; I’d never have done it. I’m too much of a coward to actually do anything like that. Desperate or not, I must have whimped out at the last minute, and blacked out. I make my way to my kitchen complete with cat that demands attention at the most inconvenient of times. The number of times I’ve almost ended up on the floor because of his attention seeking is closing on several dozen. Still, he’s cool. He keeps me company when no one else is around. I guess that’s why we keep pets.

I switch the kettle on, only to find that she’s been cleaning. I don’t know where anything is. How the hell am I expected to make a damned cup of coffee if I can’t even find the cup. She should just leave my apartment as just that. She doesn’t like me going around to hers. Maybe I should say something. Things should change. I search the cupboards, and as luck would have it, it’s in the final one. Something that annoys me is how people always say things are always in the last place they look. Well, once you’ve found it, you don’t need to look any more! As I close the cupboard, a box of cornflakes that could easily double as plant food falls onto its side and empties its contents all over my feet. I’m not sure if I should worry about the fact that I am wearing only one sock.

And who undressed me? I know work has an outdated dress code, but boxers and a grey T-shirt aren’t exactly the latest trend. Maybe it was Alice. I wonder. The only reason she’d undress me is if she was trying to get into my pants. Which, to be honest, has never happened before. But I’d be pissed if I’d missed my one opportunity at actually getting her into bed. It’s not the reason we’re together, at least not for me, but we’re not exactly familiar with one another when it comes to bedroom Olympics. So, if I was going to get some, I’d like to at least be awake for it.

The kettle click brings me back out of the world of half-awake thought. I pour the boiling water in to two mugs and walk into the lounge. Alice is there, wearing my bathrobe watching another one of those ridiculous chat shows where some redneck with a ridiculous problem usually involving transvestites, animals and a marriage. I don’t know how she watches those things, but she’s not alone. Each to their own. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she sticks out her hand, pre-empting my cough to garner her attention.

“Thanks”, she said rather abruptly.

“No prob..” I said in a confused manner. Just what the hell was happening?

“What happened to you? I’ve been trying to phone you for days but you didn’t call me back. I had to get Dave to come over and force the door open. Oh yeah, the door doesn’t…”

Her cell phone cut the questions short. Dave was a big guy, so I wouldn’t be surprised to see my front door with a big ‘Dave’ shape in it. He always had a thing for her, it was clear, but they’d never done anything. At least, I think they hadn’t. The call must have been from him too, because she took it in the kitchen. She was always careful about letting me hear her conversations. It’s not that I wanted to pry, but a relationship without trust is one living on borrowed time.

I get up, resting my arm on the window, I look out over the city. The streets are chaotic as ever, filled with suits and servants. The suits controlling the servants for their entire lives, sponging off the misfortune of the servants. And while the suits wish to think they are quite different from their servants, they’re not. They still live the same 24 hours each and every weekday. Their lives still revolve around the business. What the business needs, they give until they have nothing more left. As I begin to pull the way, I notice something on my left wrist. It’s a tattoo. A vine and a horizontal line entwined. Where the hell did that come from? I’ve not had a drink in over a week…

I stroke my arm to feel it. As if touching it will making it wear away, like the ink was still wet. It couldn’t be a tattoo because it had healed so quickly. Surely there would be a sign after a few days. I guess Alice saw me, because she’s suddenly talking to Dave about it. I’d explain if I could. But, as ever, I have no answers. I have…nothing.

I guess that’s how it’s always been. I know I have my life, and that I should be thankful for it, but sometimes, you can’t help how you feel. You might think I’m complaining over nothing, but feeling out of place, to the extent I do is truly disturbing. And until you experience it, you cannot really comment on who I am as a person. Whilst Alice slowly digs her claws into Dave a little further, I begin to stare out the window. Everyone’s on there way somewhere, but they’re making no progress. Sure, they might be getting to work, but there’s little to gain from going to work. There’s so much more to life than a nine-to-five at some office.

The people below are showing no concern for one another. Their pinstripe suits speaking volumes as the brush past one another, showing a total disregard for one another. They’re coming through, so you’d best make way. How dare you touch them. They have important things to do. Much more important than anything you could even comprehend.

It seems the less fortunate you are, the worse they treat you. In reality, it should be opposite. If you are living on the streets, you’d expect them to make an effort to try and make their life a little easier. Instead of giving them a glance and thinking how truly disgusting they are, shouldn’t you give them your mocha latte and muffin that you purchased at Starbucks on your way to work? That guy who appears to be staring at the very tops of the buildings and beyond, who may be praying to God for salvation. Wait, he appears to have changed his attention to something a little closer to home. Maybe too close.

No, he can’t be. He can’t see me, I’m hundreds of feet up, in a box made of glass and steel. It’s impossible, but yet I know it’s not. I know he can see me, and worryingly, he knows it too. Things are just getting more perplexing. Perhaps this is just a dream. Maybe I am dead after all? Maybe this is heaven? Or maybe I’ve been sent back to try again?

I just wish there were some way of finding the answers. I need to get out, to clear my head. It’s swimming with so many different possibilities, when in fact I know nothing. Except one thing. I know I jumped, and there was no way I could have survived. Not like this. It wasn’t meant to be like this. I’m meant to be dead. I can’t even kill myself. Doesn’t that say everything? The fact I threw myself off a bridge, and I can’t even do that right. Pathetic.

But enough of the self-loathing. At least for now. I have to figure out what happened. Maybe…maybe if I go back to the bridge, I can get the answers I need. I leave Alice to her future boyfriend. She won’t even notice, because she’s wrapped in her own little world. I throw on some clothes – just clothes strewn on the bedroom floor. I’m not going to impress anyone looking like this, nor do I care. I need answers.

I start to untie my laces, I notice the sand on the soles. I knew it. I had jumped. Yet, it only increased my total bewilderment. As I leave my apartment, I notice the busted lock. I guess that’s Dave’s doing, and while I should complain, I won’t. I like my face in this shape. I take the elevator and make my way down to the ground floor. It’s a fine day outside, the type that you can’t help but smile at. The sort that brightens up your day, no matter what’s happened.

As I descend the stairs, I notice my car. Well, what’s left of it. It looks a little shorter than normal, although that is probably down to the lack of wheels. Two of the axles are being held up with a few slabs of concrete. Even if the wheels were intact, I’d have to remove the tree in the form of flyers and parking tickets that currently rest on my damaged windscreen. I’m not even sure how my windscreen got damaged in the first place. Regardless of whether I went through with it or not, I didn’t damage my car. The only explanation I can see is the kids in the neighbourhood screwing around.

I guess that’s what many in society is becoming – screwed. Each successive generation learning progressively less from their parents. A few centuries down the line, we’re all screwed. Thankfully, I won’t be around to see that, as cruel as it sounds. Anyway, I have my own problems to deal with. My own issues to address. I’ve got Alice being nice to me, I’ve got a tattoo from nowhere and street people seemingly reading my very essence.

What a freak fest.

I should go to the park, that place always clears my mind. It always helps me resolve any worries I have. Good luck with this one, mind. It’s not as if anyone can explain what happened. Perhaps I’m still in a dream. Perhaps I’m lucid, it would explain a lot. Yet, I just know this is reality.

I’m in a world that consists entirely of my own thoughts. The people around are barely detectable from this planet. People whistling as they make their way from Point A to Point B. Men shouting the headlines of the local newspaper – something about a disaster in Europe. Despite my natural curiosity to learn about everything in the world, I pay no attention. My priorities have changed, I need to understand the truth regarding yesterday, if not only for my own sanity.

I’m not going crazy, I’m not self-obsessed. I just need to have an explanation for everything in my life. Even if the explanation turns out to be completely false, I need answers. Somewhere to place the blame.

The park is just a little further. Perhaps all the open space is a place to unload thoughts. I’m sure we’ve all experienced the overpowering serenity even the smallest of copse that makes us realise just how insignificant we are in the long-term. Just how little we all have to offer the world.

As I enter the park, I spot an empty bench and sit down, and begin to gather my thoughts. I seem to have changed as a person. From the moment I awoke, I realised things were different, but I couldn’t place them. Now I have come here, I’m beginning to realise just what they are. My outlook on life has been altered. I don’t think I’ll need the anti-depressants any more, as I have a reason to live. To find out the truth. I also seem to be able to detect people’s true emotions from just being near them.

I seem able to detect their personal auras that reflect their current mood and feelings. I seem to know so much more. Just what happened to me?

 

The End of The Beginning