You, the Myth
By nikthegeordie
- 483 reads
You, the Myth
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Another whirlitzer day in fairground fog and she wakes
up with her head spinning. And can almost taste the candyfloss and can
almost smell the smoke.
find yourself somewhere like this, in these impossible positions,
forever waking up from the night before. Staring up at the nicotine
ceiling and wondering where you are. Wondering if you really want to
know.
Is this your gift? Born anew each morning, vague
memories of a life no longer yours. A life slipping slowly away with
each new day those harsh blue eyes see. Is it so bad to wake up as
someone else? Is it so bad that we forget?
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You were the girl on the train, when I met you your
name was Eve, when you left you weren't so sure. I wonder who you are
now. You were travelling, by the time I met you you had already been so
far and you were moving so quickly. We joked remember? Said you were
travelling faster than reality, moving out from life into theory, a
memory or trick of the light.
was running away. We sat for hours guessing where you'd been and what
you'd done. We were there the last time you were seen. We were there to
see you leave. We were there when you fell out of our tale. We were
there when you became myth? style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: center"
align="center">*** style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She opened her eyes,
slowly. No real interest, it didn't matter what she saw, she'd seen it
before. The same dark compartment, the same dirty leather, the same
damp clouds. It had always been raining. Was that was her curse or her
blessing? Having the benefit of never quite remembering what had
already been.
style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She opened her eyes, slowly. No real
interest, it didn't matter what she saw, she'd seen it all before. The
same dark compartment, the same dirty leather, the same damp clouds,
the same two men, forever and ever. How long had she been on the train,
how many grey days of wasteland and ruin? The men were looking at her,
as if waiting
for something, expectant. She shifted upwards, brushing imaginary
cobwebs from her skirt and smiled class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">"Sorry?" she asked, in
newborn innocence, "What were we talking
about?"
The one on the left, the big one with blood on his cheek
smiled back,
"You really are in a world of your own aren't you? We
were just asking where you were headed, once they let us
off"
She fumbled around in her well-worn backpack until she found a
scruffy piece of grey cardboard. She read the
back,
"St Petersburg" she guessed, although she had no idea of the
reasons behind her journey. Maybe it was the only place left to
go.
The one on the left, with blood on his cheek looked
perplexed.
"St Petersburg? I didn't realise it was safe to head back
into the cities again, you know, after the rioting?" He looked toward
his friend for confirmation but was ignored, he turned back to the
girl, just as her eyelids began to droop again "Man" he laughed, "You
must be pretty damn tired?"
slowly. No real interest, it didn't matter what she saw, she'd seen it
all before. The same dark compartment, the same dirty leather, the same
damp clouds, the same policeman staring straight, eyes glazed, propped
drunkenly on the same two men. One of them, the one on left with blood
on his cheek glanced up from his paper and she saw the flicker of a
smile. He was friendly, she knew this, she was sure. Chemical misfires
in her brain were attempting ignition, she felt psychic; past lives,
each the same as the last, and a bloody man smiling back, she could
feel the strain and quickly she shut it all down. A suppressant,
implanted, a firewall against her real life. She let the scene drift
out of focus. Same dark compartment, same men. She accepted that she
probably knew them but made no effort to remember.
The policeman stared at her, head lying awkwardly
against the one on the left. The one on the left had blood on his
cheek. The policeman's stare unsettled her, had she done something? Was
that why she was running? She shifted her focus, shifted her mind from
thoughts of former lives and stared instead at the blood on the mans
cheek. It was a scratch she noticed; long and deep with a shallow one
beneath, still damp. Nails. A woman then, she thought, and
smiled.
"You look more cheerful this evening, sleep done you
good?"
"I was just admiring your scar, what did you do to
her?"
"What? Nothing, why would you think I did something to her? It
was an accident ok!" His friend nudged him causing the policeman to
slide forward towards the carriage floor, he was caught and propped up
again but his head was hanging at a painful looking angle, the quiet
one must have noticed because he put it back on his friend's shoulder.
The policeman resumed his stare. She looked away
quickly, avoiding eye contact, and again settled her gaze on the mans
scar, a long deep scar, still damp, still guilty. Chemical misfires, a
spark. Something was wrong, there was paranoia, suspicion. She closed
her eyes against the memories, against the flash of violence, against
the glint of the blade. The policeman was staring at her again; she
glanced up to briefly meet those dead eyes before shifting her gaze to
the floor. She looked at her shoes, caked in grey mud, and wondered
where she'd been.
slowly. No real interest, it didn't matter what she saw, she'd seen it
all before. The same dark compartment, the same dirty leather, the same
damp clouds, the same policeman and the same man beside her, with his
hand on her leg. She looked up and smiled at the man who sat with her
and felt so familiar and whom she had no memory of. Opposite her the
policeman stared off into space, his neck painfully crooked against the
shoulders of his friend. The one on the left with blood on his cheek
flashed a suspicious glance toward her. The man on the policeman's
right flicked over a page of his newspaper. Her love, the stranger
gently squeezed her thigh and she looked up into smiling brown eyes. He
nodded toward the door. She nodded back and stood
up.
It was loud outside, she fell sideways as the carriage
lurched and clattered its way across the monotone desert.
"Eve?"
She looked up and managed a convincing
smile.
"It's alright" he said, "I know you don't remember me" he
smiled "I doubt you would be out here with me if you did" his hand was
on her wrist, so familiar, so cold. She stared up into those brown eyes
again and suddenly something behind her eyes felt ready to explode. She
struggled against her memories, a flicker of light and his face above
hers and the sneer and the glory in his eyes. She struggled to forget.
"Besides" he leaned in toward her and she smelt the tobacco she
knew so well, "Right now it's not me you have to worry
about."
style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She opened her eyes, slowly. No real
interest, it didn't matter what she saw, she'd seen it all before. The
same dark compartment, the same dirty leather, the same damp clouds,
the same policeman staring straight, eyes glazed, propped drunkenly on
the same two men. Except this time was different, this time she knew,
this time she remembered. She glanced to her left to look for her
lover.
"You, er, looking for someone?" the man on the left, with
blood on his cheek was leaning forward
slightly.
"Yes, yes I was. The man, he was just here. When I woke up
he was right here" she patted the seat beside her. The man on the left
shook his head.
for a while. Maybe you dreamt it? You were mumbling something just now,
something about a man, sounded pretty tense actually" He dabbed at his
cheek with a tissue. She stared at him, at his scar, at the blood on
the tissue, into the policeman's cold dead eyes. She stared at her
hands, they were muddy, her nails full of dirt, when was the last time
she bathed? she wondered. She felt? wrong, as if her body had been
doing things of it's own accord, she didn't quite feel in control of
herself. She felt sore. style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She stared again at the Policeman,
daring herself to meet his eyes. Was he drunk? Their eyes met, but his
didn't see, he was looking straight through her, seeing something
perhaps, but nothing real. His neck was bruised, heavy black bruises.
The one on the left, with blood on his cheek noticed and hurriedly
covered them with the thick woollen collar of the policeman's
coat.
"He fell, we were having a few drinks and he fell over. Look at
him," he laughed; quickly and quietly "He's completely wasted".
His face above hers, eyes wide and gloating, again and
again and again, he thrusts himself forward and she explodes in pain
and blood and tears. What is happening, his eyes, deep and brown and
not even seeing her, seeing glory and power, again and again, his head
bobs to his own rhythm. She can see the tendons in his neck straining
and that smile, that patronising smile, and his eyes, ignoring her. The
pain throbs, spitting torture with every thrust, an invasion spreading
fire. She screams and suddenly he sees her, acknowledges her, ignores
her body. He inclines his head and gives a shrug and pumps harder and
she screams again and closes her eyes. The pain is everything, his
glory terrible and she thrashes, desperate, and screams again and
again. Her pelvis feels like ground bone, the fire wracks her body, his
eyes loom up from the darkness, his lips part and grin, she screams and
kicks but hits nothing but air, her arms held in place. His arms hold
her arms, his legs hold her legs, his tobacco in her air, his breath on
her neck. She bites. Her teeth in his throat, her eyes flash open and
no longer see his victory no longer see his smile, they see his
torment; her teeth, in his throat. Her arms are free and she is
attacking, her nails in his cheek, her fist in his chest.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">
style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She opened her eyes, slowly. No real
interest, it didn't matter what she saw, she'd seen it all before. The
same dark compartment, the same dirty leather, the same damp clouds,
the same policeman staring straight, eyes glazed, propped drunkenly on
the same two men. She was breathing, fast and urgent. A nightmare? She
looked at her nails, one broken, one bloody. She looked at the man, the
one on the left with blood on his cheek. And she knew. She couldn't
stop herself, chemicals surged and crackled and she could see it all
again, pushing him off her, the policeman coming in, the knife and the
snap of his neck. style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She stood up on legs unused for who knew
how long, the train shook and she stumbled sideways against the window.
The grey wasteland flew by, the same desert, forever and
ever.
"You ok?" It was the bloody one, the bastard
one.
"Fuck you" she spat, she fell past them out of the door and
into the corridor. She stared sideways down the narrow corridor,
unnaturally high and infinite in length. She felt dizzy and dropped to
her knees.
style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">It was loud outside,
she rolled sideways as the carriage lurched and clattered its way
across the monochrome desert. class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm
0pt">"Eve?"
She looked up and managed a convincing
snarl.
"It's alright," he said, "Do you remember now? Do you remember
what happened?"
and held her waist; she swayed slightly with the rock of the
train.
"Get your hands off me! Rapist! Murderer! Get your fucking
hands off me" She struggled against him but felt weak and slow, like
she was underwater.
remember what we did in the restaurant car? The three of us? Do you
remember when we met?" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She pulled his face into focus, stared
at his eyes. No glory, no victory. Sadness. Sadness and death, an
endless journey of destruction. class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">"No" she barely made a
sound.
"We sat, the three of us, you me and Richard, we were joking
about how far you've come, about why you ran away. Don't you remember?
The three of us, as friends. We talked all night, we drank. You kissed
me."
"No" there were tears in her eyes
class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">"We went back to thecarriage, Richard stayed behind for a last drink. One minute you were
all over me, we were making love. Then suddenly Bang! You're another
person, screaming at me, I didn't know what to do then you were biting
and scratching. Everything just went wrong, that cop showed up then
Richard came in and stabbed him. There was blood everywhere. I didn't
know what to do. I? I still don't know." class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">He looked at her
again. There were tears in his eyes too and for a second she wanted to
hold him, to cradle his head to her chest and tell him it'd be ok. But
she couldn't. She wouldn't. She didn't want to remember, she didn't
want to know.
"Richard says I have to get rid of
you."
She jumped, the world in focus again, some primal instinct
kicking in, the need to run, the desire to fight, the will to
live.
"I've fought you off once before"
class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">He looked like he'djust been struck, his eyes were wet, his jaw set against a
quiver.
"I never meant to hurt you. And I don't mean to now. We can
get off at the next stop, get a different train, go somewhere else. I
can help you to remember."
hard "So the last thing I want is to have to relive this if the police
turn up looking for their friend" class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">"Ok, do you want me to
get your bag from inside, I'll tell Richard I'm getting rid of all the
evidence?"
"I don't even know what's in it" She was tired again, tired
of decisions, tired of remembering, tired of reality catching up again
and again. Her eyes glazed over.
align="center"> style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: center"
align="center">*** style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: center"
align="center"> style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">You left with my friend. Just
disappeared. I looked up from the paper and found myself alone with the
corpse. Together we stared at the wall, at where you had been. We
wondered where you were now, me, and Death beside me. Where you were
going. If your story had ended. If you were now forever myth. Forever
someone who would happen to a friend of a friend. A traveller's
tale.
You left with my friend. My friend who was running away. My
friend who's past so often caught up with him.
align="center">*** style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: center"
align="center"> style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">She opened her eyes, slowly. No real
interest, it didn't matter what she saw, she'd seen it all before. The
same dark compartment, the same dirty leather, the same damp clouds,
the same man sitting opposite her with blood on his cheek. The same man
who grinned and stared at her legs. The same man with brown eyes and
the smell of tobacco. The same man who reached across to grab her
hair.
style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: right"
align="right">Nik Jones style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="mso-spacerun:
yes"> style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">
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