Hearing Damage

So I was pretty shocked last week at some people responding to the Fiction.  That got me motivated to bring out some old notebooks from college and start writing again.  I created a character named Chris for a short story and now that I am single and do very little on the weekends its very easy to have a few beers and find a blank page and let this character work his way out.  There is a very dark side of me that comes out in my writing and people always worried about it.  I think writing heavy is what allows me to smile the rest of the time.  its my outlet.  Here is a chapter out of a short story I wrote called "Beautiful Decay"  let me know if you enjoy it.



Chapter 4 - Nightmare

I usually masturbate with my TV on in the background with local programming on mute while I watch porn at my computer. But tonight it’s on QVC. I’m naked, lying on top of my covers after my orgasm starring at the TV screen. The item for sale is a Tulipano Link necklace. It rests against a woman’s chest. Skin, gold, and hair are the only thing in the TV frame. The next scene is a close up shot of the necklace being held by a pair of perfectly manicured hands. The hands look gigantic. The number of units sold box at the bottom of the screen climbs quickly. The woman wearing the necklace is now standing next to a black, velvet bust wearing the same necklace. The woman, in her mid 40’s, is also wearing several thick gold bracelets on her wrists. She smiles. There is nothing more pathetic than discount jewelry.

I have this reoccurring dream that I watch as the whole world burns. I can see everything. Anything that is beautiful or means something slowly burns to the ground. In my dream I cannot move. I am paralyzed. Everything is intensified and my senses are overloaded. There are screams and cries in the distance. Everyone is hopeless. The world is helpless. The sounds of buildings falling, wood cracking and sirens explode all around me. I can hear my father’s voice. I feel the heat from the flames as they consume everything around me. I try to look away or close my eyes but I can’t. I see the Eiffel Tower burning right next to the house I grew up in as a child. There are funeral processions of close friends and relatives. Their graves are covered in burnt flowers and broken picture frames. The oceans burn. The sky is beautiful. Dark, gray horizons bleed into the burgundy fingers of the orange, outstretched flames as the fire destroys everything. I realize throughout all the chaos that all of this is inevitable. There is no hope or common good in anything. There is only negativity in a world starving for attention. Truth does not exist. The world I live in has become an island from which there is no escape. There I am surrounded by the oncoming nothingness, the man who watches as the whole world burns to the ground. I am crying and I am alone.

Its 4:00 a.m. when I wake up. My face and hair are drenched in sweat. I sit up in bed and take several deep breathes. A man dressed in all black is playing guitar on TV and selling instructional DVD’s that he holds up with a hand that has incredibly long finger nails.

I walk into the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge. I sit down on the 1,000 dollar recliner I took from my grandmother’s rest home when I came to school because no one visits her anymore. I start drinking. There are no lights on and the only sound in the room is coming from the fan propped up next to the TV. I don’t know what day it is.