Tag: modern

Everlasting

Dr. Willem Hart. Psychiatrist.

The small stark white business card in my hand feels firm and I lose myself in the bland font gracing its surface. Psychiatrist. I’m not crazy. I think. But something tells me all the crazy people think that too. Frustrated, I toss the card to the small coffee table in front of me. It’s cheap, but it is both my dining table and office desk. The good news is it only adds to the dingy bachelor apartment I’m living in. The lights flicker when anyone flushes a toilet, the wind whistles through the walls and the paint has peeled back to reveal the bricks they had simply covered up. It’s not much; but it’s home.

My eyes stare blankly at the tiny card amid the chaos of dishes and scribbled notes atop the table. I need to talk to someone, but this Dr. Hart? Definitely don’t want to be committed to the asylum again. Almost didn’t make it out of there. My hand betrays me as it snatches the card from the table and also retrieves my wallet. As it opens, my driver’s licence catches my eye. It’s a fake and it has to be.

I stand from my worn leather couch and make my way to the bathroom. Staring into the picture, the world around me vanishes from my thoughts. My mind autopilots me to where I simultaneously want and don’t want to be, in front of the mirror.

The licence shows a girl with beautiful long curly hair, brown in color, she’s smiling and her dark brown eyes shimmer with life. The freckles on her face seemingly dance with joy as she poses for the camera. Who is this girl I wonder? She looks ever so familiar.

My eyes drift from my hands to the mirror before me. The face that reflects back shows no joy. I smile and my teeth don’t shine like the girl in the picture, admittedly it hurts a little. The dark bags beneath my eyes show how worn I feel, luckily my batteries are coffee and adrenaline. The long wavy frizz from my youth has now been traded for the easier to maintain pixie cut. It’s short, it’s manageable and I save a ton of time getting ready in the morning.

Still… the girl in the photo stares up at me, longing to return to the world. But it’s too late for that. I close my eyes and consider why I need to talk to a shrink. The faces of the damned are virtually burned into the underside of my eyelids, so in no time at all I am reminded of why I should make the call.

I return to the couch before I sense any regrets and shuffle around the dishes on the coffee table until the phone finds me. It shimmers like a beacon as its stainless steel glistens in the dim lighting of my apartment.

The lights in the apartment flicker as someone flushes their toilet. I can’t hear it, but I assume it. After making the call, my stomach churns with unease. My eyes wander aimlessly over the piles of clothing, ammo clips, crucifixes until eventually landing on the window. The phone keeps ringing, my stomach all the while doing back flips. The cloudy night sky blocks out the moonlight and the visible buildings from the window are mostly cast in darkness. Finally, a voice breaks the monotony of shrill ringing.

“Excuse me, but do you have any idea what time it is?” The disgruntled and congested sounding voice on the other end sounds none too pleased.

My hesitation coaxes me to look at the clock, which reads roughly quarter past four. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll call back another time.” Regret passes over me and my stomach knots immediately.

“Wait- who is this?” Concern reverberates through the phone.

“My name is Alex, we met on the train.” My voice shook, why was I so nervous about this?

After some brief shuffling, the doctor continues. “Oh yes, I remember. Yes, we should meet. Meet me at the address on the card?”

“Of course. See you then.” Tossing the phone aside my stomach finally begins to relax. He was awfully eager to meet up, I wonder if he could sense something was wrong with me from our first encounter?

I rise from the couch and head over to a pile of clothes, plucking a few choice ones out and smelling them. Fresh. Not so fresh. I hate doing laundry. Finally I settle on a collared sweater with alternating large horizontal black and grey stripes on it, teamed with a pair of dark blue jeans. They’re not skin tight, but lose enough to move in. Never understood why some people wear pants that are skin tight. I slip into the one pair of shoes I have, black lace up dress shoes. I may or nay not have picked them out of the bargain bin, and they may or may not be men’s shoes. I lean near the window and feel the cold seeping in. It’s jacket weather, so I grab one from the coat rack beside the door. It happens to be my favourite, leather and next to no pockets. I grab my keys and wallet and start off when something stops me dead in my tracks.

Do I bring a gun, or not?

Glancing back to the coffee table, the grip of my pistol peeks out from under some papers. It begs me to take it along for the ride and I decide what the hell. I check to ensure it is loaded and put it in the homemade holster built into this jacket.

The trip downtown is a rough thirty minute ride, but my mind is elsewhere. I sit in a car similar to the one where the doctor handed me his card. It flips between my nervous fingers as my mind considers what I could have said or done to have provoked his giving me the card. I remember sitting there and relaxing, then suddenly he turned and said if I ever needed anyone to talk to he was a call away. The card changed from his hands to mine and he vanished into the crowd at the next stop. I glance around the graffiti filled cabin and my mind fixates on a number, etched into the seat across from me.

Triple six. The number of the beast.

If I had been a fan of metal, I’m sure a number of songs would come to mind. Unfortunately, my mind goes elsewhere. It goes to the hour before I got on the train and met the doctor.

***

A terribly fake wooden door stood before me, the number thirty six in inch tall golden numbers and a peep hole were the only things of interest upon it. Knocking upon the door with my left hand, I readied myself. My right hand slid impatiently over the holstered pistol’s grip inside my jacket. The door swung wide, revealing a tall grey faced man with deep dark pits for eyes and teeth sharpened to a point. He spoke first, “Yes-” and then my bullet turned him onto his back. Two others rose from behind his smouldering corpse, a short blue skinned man with horns and red eyes and a taller red skinned man with eyes of fire. My next bullet flipped the shorter man backwards over his chair and the one after that ripped through the drywall beside the red skinned one.

Before I could pull the trigger again, he was upon me and was faster than I could have prepared for. His hand instinctively grabbed the gun, which was both hot from being fired and doused in holy water. He recoiled and my knee gathered the space to his jaw. He toppled backwards in shock and I grabbed the pistol, locking the hammer back. We sat frozen in that moment, he knew this was his end.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Do it!” The man’s voice was raspy and cold with genuine hatred.

“Why were you here? You escape purgatory and come live in this dump?” Admittedly, the apartment was nicer than mine which by comparison was purgatory.

“We… we wanted freedom. Hell is getting awfully crowded.” His burning eyes seemed almost sad. “Plus, I was there for killing someone in self defence! Wasn’t fair in the slightest!”

Considering his words, I locked onto his gaze, and lost myself in the fire. Demons would say anything to survive, so I wasn’t believing this for a second. Although I was told this by an angel, who may not be the least biased person in the universe. “I’m sorry.” My voice turned cold as if I were someone else entirely. “You were the hit.” The hammer falls and his body collapses into a smouldering heap like the other two.

The walk to the train station was cold and wet, with the rain pouring horizontally instead of coming down. I stopped beneath the shelter and shook with a chill. The rain clung to me, soaking through to my very soul and I began to question why the gods would send a man to hell for defending himself. Was he supposed to just die? In the many years I’d worked among angels and demons, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. Angels had a very black and white sense of judgement whereas demons were the grey area in between. Suddenly my mind snaps out its deep thoughts and a man is handing me a card.

***

That must have been it. I was deep in thought about the demon’s final words. Questions kept rising and before I could get another answer, more questions popped up. My trust was waning in the angels, not that demons were gaining it. Suddenly the night sky is above me and I’m standing before a small office building. The card in my hand looks almost identical to the slightly weathered white sign with the doctor’s details on it. When did I get off the train? I shrug to myself and walk up to the door.

Before I have the chance to knock, the doctor greets me. His smile is warm beneath his stubbled chin and cheeks. “Come in Alex.” The black mess of hair atop his head is streaked with grey and barely moves in the early morning breeze. I feel myself hesitate but his calm blue eyes look inviting, albeit tired. I make my way past him as he closes and locks the door. It makes me uneasy, but at the same time I can’t overreact. I’m sure it’s nothing. He rushes past me as I stare at the beautiful images on the walls. One is an archway formed by trees in black and white, while another is a misty lake at sunrise. They are both strangely calming.

“Come Alex, this way please.” He motions into a room and I glance in with caution. The room is a calming light beige color and there is a very stereotypical lounge type couch in the room. A single cozy looking chair sits beside it, with a small table in between. “Well, shall we?” I advance towards the couch and sit on the edge, then slowly turn and lay back. Relaxation creeps up on me and I lose myself until I realize the doctor is sitting at my side.

“Are we comfortable?” He asks the question with such genuine concern I feel compelled to respond. “Yes, of course.”

He clears his throat and adjusts slightly in his chair. “You might be wondering why I gave you my card. Allow me to explain. In all my years as a psychologist, I have never seen anyone deeper in thought than you. I searched your face for some telling sign you needed to talk, but you seemed both torn and lost. Now that we’re past that, is there anywhere you’d like to start?”

His question bursts the dam holding back all the questions of my own. They all flood forth until finally, a single starting point becomes evident.

“I’m a demon hunter employed by the angels in exchange for postponing my death.”

Strangely his demeanour does not change. I suppose this isn’t the strangest thing he’s ever heard.

But this time, it’s true.

The Middle Class Assassin: The Recruitment Process

(This is only Episode Three, Head to Episode One, Tough Times or the previous episode, A Life Of Routine)

As I walked the kilometre to the front door, I saw water features, swans, and the best for last; A Ferrari. There were many nice cars there, but that one stood out to me. I walked up the the front door and noticed it was open. As I entered people passed by me with delicacies and drinks. After snagging a free glass of wine, I began the search for Dwayne. I moved in and out of the crowd, careful not to disturb anyone, and finally Dwayne spotted me and waved me over. He was talking with a man I had seen through our post office before. He turned to me with a cheeky grin and assessed me through squinted eyes. “Ah you must be Brad? I am quite pleased to meet you.”  As the man shook my hand, a slight grazing of his suit sleeve made my fingers tingle it was so incredibly made. “Yes it’s a pleasure to meet you as well, but your name would be?” He looked to Dwayne and smiled before returning his gaze to me. “I’m Liam Theeson, I’m technically Dwayne’s superior.” Dwayne shrugged and laughed nervously, “Yeah, well except in hand to hand.” Liam laughed confidently and began to make his exit. Before getting too far he called back to me, “And don’t forget to enjoy the party!”

Dwayne watched Liam walk away. He was staring and then snapped back to me. “Listen, I need you to watch my Uncle Larry for a few minutes, if I’m not back in fifteen minutes, he’ll need his medicine. They’re in the bathroom cabinet. Whatever you do, have him sit down before he takes them, he always gets dizzy. Did you get all that?” I look over to Uncle Larry and then nervously back to Dwayne. “Uhh fifteen minutes, medicine, bathroom cabinet, make sure he sits.” Dwayne slapped me on the shoulder so hard I could already feel his hand print swelling on my skin. “Thanks pal.” I noticed him rush back over to Liam and they began chatting again. I began to wonder if Liam would have a job for me. I shrugged it off and decided to go chat up Uncle Larry.

A short stout man with a dirty comb over and a goatee to match, Uncle Larry seemed quite the sleaze. “Hey, look. Check out the bazongas on that one!” As I endured these comments, fifteen minutes went past and even Uncle Larry was starting to get edgy for his medicine. “Hey I saw you talking to Dwayne, did he tell you where he put my stuff?” I nodded politely and helped his fat carcass off the seat he was stuck in. As we made our way upstairs, I waited patiently at the door while he took his pills. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff…” He stared into the mirror and then looked to me. “Well back to the bazongas?” I shook my head, “Sorry, but Dwayne told me to make sure you sit down because the pills make you dizzy.” Suddenly Uncle Larry became hostile. “What the fuck? Pills make me dizzy? Since when does e make me dizzy?” I stared at him for a moment. “E? As in ecstasy?” Uncle Larry was approaching full blown rage. “Of course ecstasy! What else would make…” His words trailed off for a moment as he looked at me. I grabbed him by the shirt and sat him on the toilet. “Dwayne said this would happen, he said you’d… get…” I felt my own words trail off as I watched Uncle Larry’s eyes roll into his head and a white foam run from his mouth. “Holy shit!” The words had no sooner slipped from my mouth and I had him on the floor and was beating onto his chest for CPR.

Moments felt like years and then suddenly, everything was silent. I was standing over poor dead Uncle Larry, who no matter how sleazy he was didn’t deserve this. I quickly washed my hands and made my way downstairs to find poor Dwayne. On the day of his big party too, jeez. I was officially the worst friend in the world. As I finally found him, I pulled him aside. “Uhh Dwayne, I’ve got some bad news.” Dwayne was smiling and waving at someone else half listening, half hosting. “Yeah, what’s up?” I looked around for the right words, and then I blurted them out. “Larry’s dead.” In a moment of self reflection, I regretted it the moment I said it. He turned to me and grinned. “I hoped you’d say that.” I was shocked to find that Dwayne wasn’t surprised by this. Shock didn’t describe it actually. But as I watched, Dwayne walked forward and tapped a spoon on his glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a new assassin among us, Mister Flint!” Dwayne spun and pointed to me and I stood there, dazed by the turn of events. Suddenly, he picked up the announcements again. “Also for any of you who were betting I couldn’t pull of a kill through an unknowing recruit, please feel free to leave your bet in the glass vase by the door. One less politician in the world today!” Everyone raised their glasses and clinked glasses with the person next to them. “So that wasn’t Uncle Larry, Dwayne?” I asked amid the laughter and talking. He turned to me and smiled. “Not even close. He was a crooked guy who was blackmailing the soon to be President. In fact, you technically just worked for the government.” I shook my head as Liam put an arm around me. “Son, you’ve got what it takes to be a strong potential. You’re average enough no one will notice you and you’re average enough that you can be trained as a jack of all trades, potential master of none. Now that you’ve been implicated we can ask, would you like to know more?” I shook my head in silent agreement. “Perfect! I’ll see you on Monday. I hate working weekends.” As I walked away Dwayne called to me, “Hey Brad, take the betting vase with you, thanks for the help today!”

The Middle Class Assassin: A Life Of Routine

(This is only Episode Two, so don’t fret and catch up at The Middle Class Assassin: Tough Times!)

Arriving home I opened the door and yelled the ever so clichéd, “Honey, I’m home!” I stood at the door for a minute waiting for something… anything. “Hmm, well I guess no one wants these presents I got!” Suddenly I heard the sound of giggling and laughing as my kids came running around the corner. Vanessa made it to me first, two years old and she could outrun her four year old brother. Not bad for a little tyke. As she stared up at me with those two big hazel eyes, she mispronounced her expectation. “Pwesent?” I could feel the smile drift across my face. “Yeah, I’ve got it right here!” As I tickled her, she flailed in hopes of making an escape. Meanwhile Samuel, her brother, watched on. “I don’t want that present!” He then disappeared into the kitchen. As I picked Vanessa up, she was still giggling when I carried her into the kitchen to see if I could find my beautiful wife.

“How was Dwayne?” She said quietly, knowing that was the exact reason I was late. Her name was January, but she was as warm as a summer’s breeze. “He’s doing great actually, invited me to some party next week.” I leaned in and kissed her rosy cheek. No matter the day, she never wore make up, and in my eyes that made her even more beautiful. “How went the job hunt?” I asked while I tried to fend off the attention grabbing attempts from Vanessa. “I have an interview this week, but it doesn’t seem hopeful. I mean they said you need a degree, and I don’t, but they called me back anyway.” She looked to me with a hint of concern. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, but go in there thinking you’ve already got the job. Confidence means so much, so believe in your experience. Believe that the interview is because of that.” A bright smile lit up across her face. “You’re so right, you always know just what to say.” She sighed happily and managed to sneak me a kiss amid the flailing of a two year old. “Supper will be ready shortly.”

That night is a blur between putting the kids to bed, making love and thinking about half a million dollars. Really, what could I do with that? In fact I might as well fast forward to the next week as the days leading up to the party could not have been any more routine than if they had been scripted. I think I actually heard a laugh track then I tripped on the same run in the carpet three days in a row. But Thursday came and I woke up with some renewed vigor. I shaved, showered, gelled my hair and put on my best suit. I stared at myself in the mirror. “Damn, I look incredible.” I kissed the ever so lovely January adieu, hopped in my car and turned the key. Nothing. I turned it again. Nothing. I beat on the steering wheel as if to kill the damn thing. I beat it so hard that my hand was sore. I walked in to let January know but she was already in the shower, why disturb her?

I stood at the bus stop in the sweltering heat. The suit breathed like plastic wrap, and was probably half as comfortable, so I was relieved when a cloud finally blocked out the sun. Relieved until that blessing became a curse. At first I ignored it, a slight feeling of something on my face. I wiped away and there was nothing. Suddenly, I was being assaulted by a torrential downpour. Damn this world and my horrible luck. If it wasn’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all. As I stood there accepting the rain, finally the bus came down the street. As it pulled close to the curb, neither the driver nor I saw the puddle before it was too late. The door to the bus opened and I was even more soaked from head to toe than I was moments ago. The driver looked exceptionally apologetic as he attempted an apology. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, this storm came out of nowhere!” I smiled a little. “Yeah, just like that puddle.” As I turned to look down the bus, I saw people moving bags onto seats and pushing over so there was no room for me. Real nice, but I couldn’t blame them. After all, I looked like Swamp Thing.

As I stood in the aisle dripping, people made their way out the back door of the bus, or the front. Really just the opposite direction of me. As the driver came to a stop after the majority of the people got off, he declared the next would be his last. I was concerned and decided to question that. “Wait, don’t you go uptown?” The driver kindly shook his head. “I’m sorry son, but we only do that during peak hours. You probably had just missed the uptown bus as I start the next run after that.” I shook my head in disbelief. The driver made his way to the next stop and as everyone else got off, I slowly made my way to the exit when the door closed in front of me. “Where are you headed uptown?” I told him and he grinned. “Well you’re in luck, that’s on the outskirts and close to the terminal. I’ll swing you by as I take this bus to fuel up.” I breathed a sigh of relief. It was about time some good luck came my way.

As the bus dropped me off outside some huge steel gates, I felt compelled to tell him this couldn’t be right. I walked up and noticed an intercom by their mailbox. I pushed the “Call” button and suddenly the oh so familiar voice of Dwayne came over the speaker. “Hello, hello? Is this thing even working?” I grinned. “Dwayne, it’s me! Brad!” I could still hear some fighting with the technology on the other end. “Hello!? Brad? Did you say Brad? If that’s you Brad, the gate is… open!” I walked towards it and gave it a push, it didn’t budge. “Uhh Dwayne? It’s not opening.” After a string of cursing, the gate finally began to open. As they opened, Dwayne announced over the speaker, “Welcome to Chateau De Dwayne!”

The Middle Class Assassin: Tough Times

(Today I am starting episodic content based off my “Mediocre Assassin” short story. If you’re unfamiliar with it, feel free to read it here.)

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. As I watched the absolute seconds pass on a clock on the wall, eventually it signalled the end of my shift. Let me fill you in. My name is Brad Flint, and up until a year ago I was the CEO of a major corporation. As many companies felt the recession, I was one of the casualties. As someone in the board felt that I was being paid too much, they cut me to pave the way for a new, cheaper CEO. Months passed and I found it hard to find a job anywhere. At thirty four years of age, it was actually damn near impossible. Sadly, we had to sell the acreage we lived on for a more modest dwelling. Still unemployed and looking for work, I found myself getting to know recruiters and they were getting to know me. But the day everything began to change, was the day my wife lost her job.

Two kids. A house we owned, but electricity and gas that we never could. As both of us tried our best to acquire new jobs, we had a tough time convincing the kids that everything was okay. We would spend all of our efforts with them trying to be positive, trying to find jobs. Once night fell and the kids were in bed, my wife would burst into tears in my arms. I always told her everything would work out. Our luck had to change sooner or later. I mean, do people really have bad luck for their entire lives?

So eventually I found a job as the clerk for the local post office. Local post office, just not my local. A half hour drive away, the small town for some strange reason had the busiest place I’d ever seen. This was where I met Dwayne Longstead. This guy when I first started was a regular guy: Average frame, no tattoos, basic smile. As time went on he and I became really good friends, one might even say the best of friends. I’d been working there for almost four months, but sadly my wife still hadn’t found a job. This brings us up to speed on where I am now. Tick. Tock. Oh yeah, I’m already done.

Dwayne stood outside waiting for me. The guy was probably mid thirties like me, however if you saw him and I side by side, he looks like a supermodel. In the past few months Dwayne became obsessed with super heroes and action movies. He started working out more than he brushed his teeth. Oh yeah, and he got some dental work done. Remember how I described him? Regular guy? Now the damn guy was some kind of Adonis, his muscles had muscles, his tan had a tan, and I can only assume he got that tan from his incredible smile. It was hard for me to hate the guy, he worked harder than anyone and travelled a lot. He worked so hard nowadays that I had forgotten he came around the first and third Thursday of every month to take me to lunch. Must be Thursday today… Good to know.

Dwayne immediately grinned when he saw me. “Jesus Brad, you’re looking great.” I looked at myself. I had managed to buy meat again since I started working there and had put some weight back on. I was also not as pale as I used to be. “Thanks Rockstar, nice tattoos by the way.” Dwayne laughed to himself. “Oh these things? Has it been that long since you saw me last? Look it doesn’t matter! What’s new with you, how’s the wife and the kids?” He somehow always had this way of getting you excited about anything, he was like a giant muscular, tattooed puppy. I smiled at the thought of him with big floppy ears and replied. “They’re okay…” Dwayne may have seemed naive to me at first, but after getting to know him more and more the guy was as sharp as a samurai sword. “Is everything going well with the house?” He nailed it. Right on the head. Never failed to impress the ever loving crap out of me. “Yeah, not so good on that front Dwayne.” I felt as though I had kicked that excited, muscular puppy with the look Dwayne was giving me. “Damn man, well lunch is on me today.”

We walked into Ellen’s Diner and there was Ellen, smoking a cigarette behind the bar and gabbing away on the telephone. We seated ourselves as always and before I knew it everything was pouring out of me. “I told them I’d have the money, but they wouldn’t listen. So I may have borrowed some money… illegally.” Dwayne stared at me with one eyebrow raised. “Illegally? Did you rob a bank?” I laughed the notion off. “Uh, no. But I did get it from a loan shark.” I was then on the receiving end of the most disapproving look ever since my Dad caught me looking through his porn collection. “I could have loaned you the money Brad!” Dwayne was virtually yelling at the top of his lungs, but I decided not to give in. Calm and quiet, I replied to him. “I owe you enough, but thank you. I know you’ve been there for me in the past few months unlike anyone before you, but I didn’t want to burden you. I mean, you just moved uptown.” Dwayne sighed heavily and ran his hands over his head. “Did you ever think I moved uptown because I’m doing a lot better?” I shrugged. “Of course, why would anyone move uptown?” Dwayne shook his head just as our meals arrived. Ellen stood beside the table smiling. “I just assumed the usual, but if you change your mind let me know.” She sensed the tension and walked away, but not before making a comment under her breath. “Geez, a thanks would have been nice… or even a nod… I hate customers.”

As we ate in silence, the food worked wonders to ease the tension. Something about a nice, juicy steak with gravy and mashed potatoes just eases all of my woes out the door. As we both sat back, arms resting on the back of the booth, we caught each other just grinning. Dwayne leaned forward first, shaking his head. “Brad, I have a proposition for you. I make roughly half a million dollars a year, and I work part time. How would you like to do the same thing?” I was shocked, half a million? No wonder he moved uptown. “Uh, yeah. But do I have to be as ripped as you are?” Dwayne laughed and shrugged. “You don’t have to be, but it helps in my line of work. If you’re interested, you’ll need next Thursday off to attend a small gathering at a friend’s place.” I grinned wildly. I hadn’t socialized since I had my first kid ten years ago. “Hell yeah, that sounds awesome.” Dwayne grinned from ear to ear at my response. “Glad to hear it, wear your finest suit. Oh and bring your ‘A’ game.” As he got up he handed Ellen enough money for both our meals and she got caught grinning as well. “Thanks D-Dog!” As Dwayne walked out of the Diner, he just kept shaking his head at her comment. I laughed and she glared at me. “What? That’s what I call him.” I pondered what this party was going to be for, but it almost didn’t matter. Socializing and half a million dollars… what would I do with that? I spent the next little while daydreaming until I decided to head home for the day.