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Authors: Patrick Downes

Fell of Dark (19 page)

BOOK: Fell of Dark
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“No I don't.”

She laughed. “Yes you do. It's intense and stupid.”

“Why stupid?” I stood there, stupid. “You should kiss me.”

“Because there's only one move. And you're looking down on me, just like that. Again.”

By now, I was so nervous, angry, and suspicious. Desperate. I didn't know what to do. The Sawmen halfway through my stomach.

“Zugzwang.” The Architect was angry. The Guardians. The Sawmen. Everybody in motion. Everybody. All moving.

“What?” Candace sat up.

“Time to get out of here.” I pulled her up by her arm. “Time for all of us to get out of here.”

Liar. Liar. Why won't you kiss me? Why won't you be honest? Liar.

I know your kind. I've known your kind my whole life. Liar.

Liar.

I have dreams. Long, frightening dreams. Last night I dreamed of a scaffold. Not a wood scaffold. Nothing simple like my mother swinging in a tiny circle. A man was the scaffold. That's all I can say. He was huge. He held me up. Another man would beat me until he got tired, but the scaffold wouldn't let go. He held me up and didn't say a word.

What's the interpretation? Only one. My conscience held me up and beat the hell out of me. Why? Because I told Candace I wouldn't talk to her again? Because I told her not to look at me? If she sees me on her side of the street, cross it. If she sees me anywhere in the world, hide.

Or was the scaffold the devil, and my father the demon that beat me?

No. There is only one interpretation.

Here's the problem with the ending between Candace and me. I don't think I'll ever meet another girl who likes me the way Candace did. I'll never touch another girl. I'll die before that happens.

I'm back to shaving myself. It takes me nearly half an hour. I ask myself, Why not get an electric razor? So far I've been too stupid to know why.

I will let the beard go for a couple weeks. I don't care. By that time, I'll look like a wolf. I have large eyes. There they are. Bright blue shining out of a black beard, black eyebrows, and black curly hair. They burn through the dark. I sound like Superman, except his terrible little brother. A dwarf. Something dark and twisted in his supersoul. Hidden away. In the ice of the Fortress of Solitude. I'd wait for Superman to come home, and I'd yell at him. I'd dance on his head like a monkey.

“How could you love them? How could you save them? Why couldn't you let them all die?”

“I have to love them and save them.”

“You make me sick.” I'd pretend to throw up on the ice.

“Love is the hardest thing of all to do. Faster than a speeding bullet? Stronger than a locomotive? That's just like breathing. But love? Love is worse than Kryptonite.”

What can I say to that? The son of a bitch would be right.

You people. You people. Youpeopleyoupeopleyoupeople. Cowards, every one of you. What, what, what, what keeps your legs from breaking under all the weight of your fear and lies and hatred? Human beings. I'm not one of you. I'm not one of you. I'm outside your fences. I'm running around you at the speed of light, you goddamn beasts. But you think I'm the monster. You cry and gnash your teeth. You throw stones at each other, at me, and you expect mercy all the time. You harm and harm and harm, and your lips turn blue and your teeth red and your eyes yellow and your skin green, and you bring down your swords, tear up each other's skin, throw your stones, and I run around you. But I'm the monster. I'm the goddamn monster. Alone.

You see, you see, you see? I feel the Guardians. All their rage.

I want to be human. You're not all hateful cowards. I know that.

I'm turning into a monster or a ghost, I don't know which.

I don't want to be angry anymore. Or protected, if it means I feel this way, speak this way, and get sawn in half. That's the end result of the anger and protection: I get sawn up.

Don't be one of them
, the Guardians say.
Stay with us. If you stay with us, we won't need to saw you. You'll be safe.

I'm not safe with you, I can argue, or in the world. Where will I be safe?

I'm very, very sad, and very, very tired.

Three words. First-person shooter.

. . . and the entire world shades of purple. I don't know the names of more than one purple, lavender, so the world in shades of lavender, dark, light, black lavender, red lavender, blood lavender, all the trees, all the trees, dropping their purple leaves, and all the houses on every block wiggling and purple, like they're all mirages, the grass spikes of bright lavender, lightning lavender, cracking under my feet like icicles. Where's Candace now? Where's Candace now? Where's Candace now? Liar, she's sitting in a coffee shop with her new boyfriend, laughing at me. They're laughing at me, because I'm ridiculous. Right? Right? Ridiculous, crazy, sad. So sad. Dead sister, dead mother, a father better off dead, finally gone. Only gone. Only gone. Only a game. First-person shooter. Bam. The lavender world, a headache. The Guardians say,
This is our world, buddy-boy. This is the color of our world. Take it, take it.
Where's Candace now? I'll walk until I find her. When did I stop sleeping? Days ago. Maybe naps like a purple cat, curled up in the purple sun. Pigeons. Pigeons. Pigeons and cats, a war between them, and both die by the dozen, pecked or clawed, pigeon blood, cat blood, everything terrible. I want to cry over the cats, not the pigeons. The pigeons that follow me, gurgle monsters. Gurgle monsters, they want to kill my hands. I haven't slept a full night for more than a week. I can't. I can't sleep, up, up, up, up, and I can't stop thinking.

All I want to do is walk. Walk and walk, miles and miles. One end of the city to the other, and one side to the other, and then all the middles, all the circles. I want to get beaten up, mugged, killed, killed, killed. Where's Candace? If she loved me, she'd be here now. She'd tell me nothing's purple, she'd tell me the houses shake and wiggle because I haven't slept, and she'd send me to bed and get me toast and ginger ale until I died. I'll walk and find her, if I have to go to every coffee shop in the city.
We were right,
the Guardians say.
We were right. You trusted a human being, and look where that got you. You deserve the saws, all the saws.

BOOK: Fell of Dark
8.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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