As I entered the ancient sanctuary, standing alone in the forest cloaked in darkness, my nerves began to calm. Ready as I could be for whatever might happen during the purifying ceremony and fully conscious of the fact that I could never go back to who I was before entering. I took a deep and powerful breath, steadied myself, and took the critical first step inside. Once through the threshold, I was greeted with a cold chill throughout my body as if every cell inside me was crying out. Both jubilant to transcend and terrified of their inevitable death. The last moments of holding on before being forced to elevate to a plane beyond comprehension. Close you’re eyes. We’re going far away. So far that we’re finally going to be here.
When I pry open my tired eyes And my exhausted soul begins to writhe The ghostly wind whips through the pane The dark air on which I survive
The rough thickness of my restless sheets The stolen smiles on my shadowed walls Through my brittle, hollow door My still body feels the deafening call
Paralyzed and ensnared in time Trapped in my rigid body Feeling their presence all around me Unable to speak softly
This is where I lay wrapped in cold comfort The prison where my mind roams The darkest and softest cage I know The place that I call home.
Can you hear me? Winding back my head. Repulsed by your indifference Wishing I was dead
Can you hear me? Anguish through your thoughts Wailing in the distance Watching my veins rot
Can you hear me? Looking down your throat. Waiting for an answer Frozen to the bone.
Can you hear me? Blowing like black wind through your house. Clouding up your mirrors Hemorage from my mouth
Can you hear me? Gnashing a your door Silent as a whisper Lifeless on the floor
Can you hear me? Sacrifice my will Buying back your special kindness Taking your precious pill
Can you hear me? Fading in your memory Avoiding pain somehow Do you feel my silence? Can you hear me now?
There is no separation. From tendon and bone. From building and sky. From you and from home.
The spice in the air. The sun in your hair. From your eyes and mine. From pain and despair.
To destroy is to change. To change is to live. To live is to love. In love we stay the same.
There is no destruction. No taking light from the sun. Every piece has its place. And all together is one.
She wants to know his secret. He hasn’t decided what it is yet. She looks into his eyes deeply. Longingly. Knowing. Believing that if she could just crack through this one last barrier, there would be nothing stopping them from the bliss of eternal togetherness. Yet, although he would love nothing more than to give her what she desires. Everything she desires. He is frozen. Paralyzed. Trapped under the rubble of a life lived with so much guilt and shame that he no longer even know what it was he was hiding in the first place. The thing just below the surface. Visible through his actions and words to all who take the time to care for him. It’s simply a part of him now. Like a vestigial organ with no nerve endings that has grown cancerous, he can’t even feel its toxic presence anymore. If he wishes for his search to continue. The search to find the love that’s standing right in front of him. The search for himself. He’ll have to craft a scalpel with his heart and use it to remove the dead tissue. The thing that no longer serves him. And lay it bare before her.
To be honest, there’s nothing compulsive about it. It’s just… natural. I wake up every morning the same exact way. My dreams are what some people would consider to be… upsetting. Disturbing. Stressful. I dunno, I’m used to them. It’s been that way for a very long time. Longer than I can remember. So long that I can’t remember waking up with a different feeling in my body. It just feels normal at this point. I get out of bed and leave the light off in my room as I take my morning piss in some attempt to savor the last drops of the dark night. After that, I brush my teeth, splash some water in my face, clear the crusted gunk from my eyes and leave the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Next I head to the living room to get dressed in the same spot I do every single day. But first I do some basic stretches (bad back), feed my cat, and gather my things for the day. Once those subtle chores are done I take off my pajamas, fold them, and place them neatly on the top of the white canvas couch that sits against my living room wall. Next, I quickly yet deliberately get dressed in this specific order. Step one: Put on underwear. Snug, yet comfortable fitting, quick dry boxer briefs. Step two: Put on shirt. Usually plain white. Step three: Put on pants. Usually solid black. Step four: Put on socks. The only element of color in the ensemble. Step five: Put on shoes. Canvas. Simple. From here, I gather my things, stuff my pockets, grab my day bag, give my cat a quick scratch behind the ears, turn the lights out and head out the front door.
This begins my favorite part of the day. The quiet morning. It’s hot where I live but, this early, you can still feel the crisp bite of the midnight chill. It’s serine. I head to my car slowly to try to make the feeling last, but eventually, I have to get in my car and start the day. Once, I’m inside the vehicle, the planning can truly begin. Depending on the day of the week, I decide where the most advantageous place will be to conduct my search for a participant. Weekdays, at this time there are some small dog parks just outside of town that are quiet, but predictably always have a few people passing through on their morning walk. Those aren’t always the best though. One yappy dog and, all the sudden, the whole street is waking up and paying attention to what’s happening. That and the fact that everyone has those ring cameras on their houses these days that can ID a license plate or even a face from across the street and well into the park. Not ideal. There’s some other good options like coffee shops, churches, Hell I’ll even drive an hour to the beach once in a while and see if there’s any stragglers having a contemplative walk in the sand.
Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. “Why don’t you do at this at night like most people?” And while it’s true, the cover of night can hide many deeds and the variety of impaired people you have coming out of bars and whatnot that are vulnerable and ripe for the picking can be tempting. But the truth? I like my sleep. And to do all this work feverishly through the night and trying to be done by sunrise feels… I dunno… desperate? It’s just not my thing.
And while I have many good options, today I have my eyes set on one place. A road, frequented by joggers, at the base of a local mountain called Extravaganza Ln. There’s a narrow dirt path that traverses the road in this secluded, wooded area that is perfect for remote interactions. The plan is usually quite simple. I pull my car just off the road, near the path. Pop my hood and put on my hazard lights. Then I stand outside my car with distressed look about me and wait for a concerned jogger to come upon the scene. Contrary to how most people operate, I usually wait for a man to come by. Although women are far more frequently targeting for their presumed disadvantage in size and strength, I find men are more easily persuaded to help a stranger precisely because they aren’t afraid of being targeted. When one comes by, I ask for help and give some story of where I’m going and how I’m running late and I know nothing about cars. Since there’s no cell signal this close to the mountain, I tell them I can’t call for roadside assistance and they usually agree to come take a look. This next part is easier than most people think. As they look at the engine, I hit them in the back of the head, right at the base of the skull, with a heavy rubber mallet. Hard. The rubber is very important as it does a great job of knocking them unconscious or even killing them without cracking the skull and leaving a bloody mess. At this point I quickly load them into my trunk that is treated with plastic and sound deadening foam, zip tie their arms and legs and I’m off. Easy peezy. The whole ordeal usually takes less than thirty minutes.
From there I head to my local storage unit where I do my work. Getting in and out is easy. It’s a nice storage unit with AC and power and I can back my car right up into it and out of view from the parking lot cameras. Once he’s out and on the floor, I drive my car back out and park it in front of the door. Now, usually the person is already dead at this point. People really have no idea just how easy it is to kill someone with one good shot to the back of the head. But, sometimes, they’re starting to wake up as I get them out. It doesn’t really matter either way, I’m going to take my time no matter what. Sometimes they’re even coherent enough to panic. I guess all the plastic walls and flooring as well as the tools freaks them out a bit. Now that they’re here in my workshop, I have plenty of ways of dealing with this. Slowly, with a cable around the neck. Or quickly, with a long screwdriver into the brain stem. Whatever seems more appropriate at the time. After that, I crank some music, crack open a cold beer, and get to it. I have a nice metal work table now with a hydraulic lift so I don’t have to hunch over the whole time and hurt my back. It’s makes the long sessions much easier. I have an extensive selection of surgical tools purchased through Ukrainian veterinary websites. They’re made for farm animals which feels appropriate in a way. People spend their whole lives wondering around, eating, drinking, being told where to go, what to do, all so they can produce a product for their owners. No different at all from the animals they so casually slaughter and consume without batting an eye. The shame of it is, at the end of the farm animal’s life, their bodies are harvested and used for the good of the public. But with humans, they are thrown out like garbage and wasted. Buried in the ground. Burned to a crisp so they can be placed in a vase over the fireplace to look upon. At least in this room, their earthly bodies do not go to waste. In here they have a second life. One that’s full of adventure and purpose! So much fun is had in here! I sing to them, dance with them, read to them, and when it’s time, I honor them by carefully dissecting them. I very precisely cut all of the muscle away from the bone without wasting anything. It’s taken a lot of practice, but I’m getting damn good at it. I remove the eyes, the brain, the organs… everything. When I’m done the skeleton is so clean, you could put it in your front yard as a Halloween decoration and no one would know the difference. Then, everything is separated and placed into different, appropriately sized, labeled containers and loaded back into my car to take home. The blood is kept in large plastic barrels that I store in my unit and slowly use or discard over time. The bones are placed in a box that I can take to the trash compactor and have destroyed. The meat and the organs, they come home with me.
When I arrive at home, usually in the early evening, I give my cat a head scratch, and put the meat in the freezer except for what I’ll have in the next day or so. I’ll usually cook up an eye and a piece of liver for my cat. He’s getting older and needs the nutrient dense flesh. Then, I’ll cook something for myself I’m partial to ribs and shank, so I’ll usually start there. I’m a simple guy so just a little salt and pepper and a few minutes on either side and I’m good to go. I’ll take that to the living room, put on one of my shows and crack another cold beer while I enjoy my dinner.
You see, there’s nothing compulsive, obsessive, mean spirited, feindish, or evil about it. It’s all part of the earthly journey. The circle of life. The endless continuum. It’s the way things should be. It’s natural.
I feel myself floating through cold darkness as the tail end of my dream begins to fade away into the ether of sleep. This leaves me with a eerie feeling, when the gentle rumbling of the car snaps me awake. I jolt upright and the bright light glaring through the windows temporarily overwhelms me as I try to get my bearings. My hand rises to block my face from the sun as my eyes adjust.
An older man with well groomed silver hair wearing a plaid flannel shirt sits in the driver seat. With his eyes locked on the road, and his ears locked on the radio playing at a barely audible volume to maintain the tranquility of the vehicle, he says to me in a deep and comforting voice,
“You can lay back down. We still have a ways to go yet.”
“Where are we?” I reply.
“Not quite there. Not quite anywhere, really.” He lets out a small friendly chuckle, never taking his eyes off the road.
I shake my head and stretch my jaw, still desperate to wake up and get my wits about me.
“Go back to sleep. I promise you won’t miss nothin.” The driver continues in a slow, deliberate drawl.
His voice sounds familiar but I still can’t quite make out who it is and my focus is still on trying to figure out where we are. I attempt to retrace my steps and think back to when this road trip began, but my mind is blank. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to remember getting in this car. I can’t even remember falling asleep. I try as hard as I can to remember how I got here but, again, nothing.
The view through the window starts to become clear as my eyes finally adjust. The sun is high in the sky and it shines down on the golden plains that stretch out in all directions for what seems to be an eternity. The two lane road is descolet and there isn’t another car in sight. My heart rate begins to quicken as I continue to struggle to make sense of what’s happening.
“Wait, where are we going?” I blurt out.
“Settle down. The hard part is over. It’s all smooth sailing at this point. Well, for the most part, anyway.” He says with a knowing little laugh.
Now, feeling close to fully awake, panic begins to set in. I focus as hard as I can on remembering how I got in this car. When I fell asleep. Where I was… anything! I can’t remember anything!
“Who are you?! Pull over!” I scream.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. There’s no pulling off of this road.”
“What the fuck does that mean?! Why can’t I remember anything?!”
“Relax.” He says in a soothing voice, unfazed by my manic state.
“Of course you can remember. You’re just trying to remember the wrong things. Close your eyes and try again.”
Though my heart is still racing, my muscles begin to loosen as I close my eyes and attempt to remember anything I can. I start when my eyes first opened a few moments ago. Then dig a little deeper to the dream I was having right before that. The cold darkness. The feeling of floating. It starts to slowly come back to me. That’s right! I remember being in the car. Well, In a car. But something is different. I remember driving the car down a long dark road. I remember seeing the falling snow illuminated by my headlights. I can hear my friends in the car laughing and singing. I’m not participating. I’m too busy focusing on the road. I remember the feeling of looking forward to where we were going. A weekend trip to the mountains. A long awaited getaway. I remember Erika in the passenger seat next to me. Her hand gently placed on my leg. I remember the ice. I feel the car slowly begin to slide. At first, no one even notices but me. Then I feel Erika’s hand quickly begin to tighten its grip on my leg. I think the traction will come back to the tires any second, but it doesn’t. The car starts to turn and slide sideways. The laughter in the car turns to panicked silence as we brace for whatever is coming. Whatever is waiting for us in the cold dark night. My stomach drops as I see headlights through my window coming directly at us. This can’t be happening. I turn the wheel. Lock the brake. Anything! Anything I can do to take back control but, it’s too late. I’m helpless. There’s nothing I can do. I don’t even hear the impact. Suddenly, I just feel like I’m floating. It’s cold and quiet. A disassociated peace comes over me. Then I wake up in this car.
I open my eyes as tears stream down my face.
“I remember.” I whisper.
“I know.” Says the driver still peacefully listening to the quiet radio.
“Where are my friends? Where’s Erika?”
“They’re still back where you left them.”
“Are they okay?”
“Not exactly. But you’re the only one who’s here.”
We sit in silence for a moment that feels like an eternity.
“What happens now?” I ask nervously.
“That’s a little hard to explain. One of those things you kinda just have to see for yourself. Which, you will soon… we’re almost there.”
I take a deep breath and try to steady myself in the unknown.
“One thing I can say is, you have nothing to worry about. Everything is gonna be A-Okay. Just try to look at it as going… home. Kinda.” The driver chuckles again. “Alright, ready or not, here we come.” The driver lets go on the wheel as the car starts to drive itself.
I nod and take in another deep breath. The scene outside the car quickly begins to change. The light starts to bend and a feeling of calm comes over me. I close my eyes but nothing happens. I don’t have eyes. The driver is gone. I am the driver. I am everything.
