Fragments: Part One

I feel like hell.
Inhale. Exhale.
My breath rises from between my lips and thickens the cold air in the small, empty room. The older I get…every day counts now, every since I first tasted It. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. My body seems to be failing me every step of the way. Unless. Unless I have it.
Inhale. Exhale.
Alone. So alone. I struggle to turn my head through the heavy, leaden air. A dead, grey woman lies behind me, slumped into the corner as if piled there by an uncaring machine. Who did that? I wonder. I blink and she is gone.
Inhale. Exhale.
Creeeeak.
The heavy door opens on squealing, rusted hinges. He walks through the door. Yes, him. I remember.

Max Kennet. At least that’s what he told me. Tall and pale, his greasy, black hair grudgingly accompanies him. He has dark, sunken eyes. He looks like a Demon. He is my Demon. My Demon of Truth.
My Demon shakes his head, “No.”
“You said you would have it, Demon.” I think Demon, but I say Max. I stand up. There is the grey lady again. Always haunting me…
Inhale. Exhale.
Gone.
The Demon shakes his head once more. I raise my heavy fists.
Thwack!
My knuckles split across his teeth. The pain. Feels good. The quick exhilaration of the cut flesh and the warmth of hot blood trickling down my arm fuel me. At last, I again feel alive, if only for a while.
Thwack!
Crunch!
His nose breaks. Blood spurts. I feel the cartilage and bone give way satisfyingly beneath my relentless assault.
I do not stop until the Demon is cowering on the ground. Everything is grey, everything but the unchecked crimson flowing from his nose and mouth, a river of scarlet.
“You lied to me, Demon.” This time I utter the word. “Do not lie to me.” I step over his crumpled body and walk out the door, eaten away by rust.
Like me.
Three minutes later, my arms ache like hell. I don’t know who I’m kidding. I’m just walking dead now. The grey concrete of the sidewalk seems to want to swallow me up.
I want to let it.
There are grey people walking all around me now, smiling. Laughing. Life is good. I used to be like them. Happy. Living in a dream world. Until I got a taste of It. Everything came crashing down around me, and all I could feel was the need for more. I hate it. This addiction.
It’s all that keeps me going.
The dead grey lady is across the street this time, walking parallel to me. I walk faster, but she is gone.
May as well head to the bar. Drown my sorrows.
Heh. Like that’ll work. It’s been tried before.
I open the heavy oak door to the bar, stained by the weather, back before it was controlled, pockmarked with dart and knife holes, from back before knives were outlawed by the Ascendancy. Smells like piss and liquor inside. Raucous laughter tumbles through the air and out of the door, spinning as it bounces off of me. I glance casually around. Most everyone inside is the usual rabble, except a group at one of the table and a Demon in the corner. He is fat. Dressed well. Black hair, as usual. He has three women with him. They’re grey. Everyone’s probably drooling over them. Probably supermodels or something. I have seen him before. I do not know his name, but he is powerful. Powerful, and he has something I want.
They all do.
Them. The Demons. They’ve all got it. I’ve got a little. Most people don’t. Need more.
I guess I should explain how I can see them. The Demons. How I got ripped from my ignorant, peaceful, bullshit little world.
To start, I guess I really don’t know how they’re Demons. Or how I can see them. But they are, and they can.
I worked for one of the world’s largest software programming corporations. USP, Inc. United Software Programming, Incorporated. Creative, isn’t it?
I was working overtime one night, as I did frequently. I had to pay my mother’s medical bills. She’s dying. Might even be dead now. And I never got to say goodbye. Never got to tell her I was sorry for all the things I said. Thank her for all the wisdom she ever shared. She had cancer and epilepsy. None of the treatments worked. Only one real cure…the permanent one. Damn doctors probably used it, too. I wouldn’t know.
A few others were working late that night, too. Me an’ Susan Lanbrook had just finished our annual reports. No one was answering the phones upstairs. Understandable, it was late. The fax machine was in for repairs, too. Those reports had to be on the boss’ desk by morning, or it was our asses. So we figured we’d take the elevator. All the way up. As is forbidden.
Stupid idea.
From fifteen to seventy-four/ I hate skyscrapers. From outside, they look like a giant was sucked into the grey, concrete earth. Just his fingers are left, reaching for the sky. The sun. Reaching for a last chance at life. Inside, always seems like you’re ground level. It feels wrong.
Of course, back then, I love them. The pinnacle of modern human architecture. The skyscraper. So high, you can reach out, touch the stars, grab the fluffy white clouds. What would King Tut and his pyramids think of that?
When we hit the top, it seemed like the doors didn’t want to open. Like they were talking to me: “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
They were right.
Ding.
They opened, grudgingly, anyway. Looking back, I almost wish they wouldn’t have. If they hadn’t, I would still be living in my dream world. A normal guy with normal problems. Almost.
Ignorance is bliss. You’ve heard it before. It’s really true. Lies. So much easier than the Truth. More comfortable. Ten times more comfortable than the naked, bright, ugly Truth. But now I’m addicted.
The doors opened. To Star Wars. Black floors, silver walls, sliding doors. I half expected a goddamn stormtrooper to walk by.
There were two big doors ahead of us, doors that opened up and down. No, not doors. A mouth. Ready for us to walk straight in. Be willingly eaten. Walk right into that gaping maw, please remove all metal items, sir, as they may cause indigestion.
Endless hallways to the left and right. I had a bad feeling. Didn’t say anything, though. No sir. So what if the boss likes cold and sterile? Nothing to be afraid of…
We walked straight in. Straight through those hellish jaws. The jaws of the Beast.
That Beast ate it all. Everything I ever knew. Tried to eat me, too.
Soon as Susan walked into the mouth, BAM! She hit the ground with blood gurgling from her throat and mouth. Hot, scarlet, sticky blood. Like a bubble bath. I ran to her. Tried to put pressure on it. Course, I’m no medic. A few soft clinks slammed me back to reality. A little metal canister landed a few feet away from me. Two red eyes glaring hatefully at me. All of a sudden, they closed, those hideous eyes. The canister made a popping noise. Sprayed some kind of green gas all over the damn place. From what had happened to Susan, I guessed its purpose. Kill me. Leave me for the Beast to digest.
I got a little in my lungs, and a lot on my face. Only a little where it mattered, though. Doesn’t mean it didn’t burn like hell. After that, I held my breath and ran.
I threw up what little was left in my stomach in the elevator. Almost as soon as the doors closed on that hellish “office.” What had happened to Susan…those red eyes. I still have nightmares about those eyes. I can’t begin to describe how awful they were. Like real eyes, almost. Right out of some poor soul’s head. Just glaring. Not from this world. Some nights, they talk to me. I swear it.
Sitting there, watching the invisible stench of my sick float up to stain the ceiling as it had stained the floor, dropping back down to the “real” world, I thought about what I had seen in between when the canister had closed its grotesque, red eyes and spat in my face, and when I had hit the elevator, frantically scrabbling for the button.
After I ran from the room, through the open mandibles of the Beast, I wound up in another room. One I hadn’t been in before. Shouldn’t have been there. It was like a movie theatre. A movie theatre with only one seat. One seat, one screen, and a thousand doors.
One the screen. Carnage. A bloody hell. Men with limbs blasted clean off. Men covered in sweat and blood. Men destroying other men.
Men wearing the seal of the United Coalition of Western Nations.
There wasn’t supposed to be war. The news said all that had been over for nine years. World peace. No more fighting. Even old war movies were outlawed now. At last, after centuries of the human race tearing itself apart with everything from stones to lead to nuclear weapons, it was supposed to be over.
It wasn’t.
I threw up. A coloured blemish upon the cold, grey floor. Already everything was seeming to lose colour. Fading, slowly. All to grey.
The doors. I had to get out. They were all different. Sliding, hinged, iron, glass. All grey, even the glass seemed it.
All but one.
A wooden door on the left side of the room. Almost shining with the warm, golden glow. Beckoning me, it seemed. I ran for it. It opened to that Death Star hall again. The elevator was just across, seconds away.
After the office incident, I looked discreetly for more answers. For the next month, I went underground, living on the streets, searching for answers. I couldn’t go back to work, I knew that. My whole life, gone. Destroyed because The Man doesn’t want me to see the Truth.
Then I was contacted. By Max. The Demon. He told me to meet him, said he’d have answers. The Demon told me little of what I wanted to know. Just a little at a time, keeping me on a leash. For whatever reason, he didn’t want me to have it all at once. Maybe because the sheer suddenness of it all would have killed me. Maybe he just wanted to keep me wrapped around his finger.
And keep me he did. I was addicted. The only time I could shrug off the hurt and pain of the neurotoxin was when I received a new piece of the Truth.
He was supposed to give me something last time. I don’t know what, but it was supposed to completely open my eyes. He didn’t have it.
Damned Demons. So unreliable.
I honestly don’t know why he helped me in the first place. Most Demons are evil. Pure evil. Paragons of deception.
But he was different.
I also don’t know why I’m still alive. He could have torn me apart in that room. I can’t fight a Demon. To kill a Demon…Frank Castle might have been able to, back in the day. Or Cage. But they’re gone. Dead. If they ever really existed. Could be a lie, too.
Since the gas hit me, I black out sometimes. I just wake up without knowing what I’ve done for the past few hours. The most I’ve ever lost is two days. I guess the stuff did some damage, aside from making me feel old all the time. Tired. Weak. Can barely lift my head some days.
The bar. That’s right. I remember.
“…in celebration of two years of complete world peace…” the television says to me.
“Peace is a lie,” I murmur.
“…will be marking Wednesday as International World Harmony Day…”
“Peace is a lie,” I repeat, louder this time.
“…promises to be the biggest day of the year…”
“Peace is a lie!” I say. Almost shouting now. Nobody seems to notice.
“…an appearance on international television from all the world’s leaders, united…”
“Peace is a lie!” I scream. My throat feels like I swallowed a cheese grater. Nobody notices my outburst. Heh. I thought I screamed.
People hear what they want.
I slump heavily, defeated onto a tattered barstool.
“A pint, Vinnie?” I ask, my voice course and rough. Vinnie, the short, fat bartender with one tooth and a big, bushy beard, taps me a pint. I glance over my shoulder at the Demon in the corner. There is a fourth woman with him now.
Hello, Susan.


White light. Damn, that hurts. I clamp my eyes back shut. Who am I? Where am I?
I am Allan Christianson. I am thirty-seven years old. I live in Chicago.
I cautiously open my eyes again. A bed. A desk. A lamp. Nothing on the walls but a calendar. Where am I?
The calendar. January eighth, 2097.
Last I remember it was November. Two months? I’ve never lost near that amount before. Never. What the hell is going on? What am I doing?
There’s something else written on the calendar. Max, eleven AM. I recognize my own unruly handwriting. There’s a clock on the desk. Nine AM, it tells me.
Wherever I am, I’m alone, tired, and dirty. I need a shower.
The showerhead vomits too-hot water down my back. I barely feel it. Two months? Such a long time…at least the Ascendancy hasn’t caught me yet. But what have I been doing?
I turn to let the water pour on my face. It fills my mouth, covers me.
It turns to blood. My heart nearly stops, I scream like a little girl. I back up against the far wall, as far away as I can get from the gruesome blood fountain. Mumbling incoherently, I hurriedly step from the shower. It is still spraying blood. The once-pure bathmat is stained deep red, the tiled floor showered with ruby drops. Susan’s blood. My mother’s blood. The blood of those soldiers, dying alone on a field more blood than earth, coated in the gore of fallen men.
The shower curtain reaches out and grabs my leg. I cry out and fall. Water splashes across my face. Glorious water. I lie naked on the ground, panting, crying, begging God to make me pay like the devil I am. “Kill me,” I cry. “End this madness.”
As I pull my clothes on, I feel dirtier than before.
AAAARRGH!
It all comes out in an instant. Hate, pain, confusion, sorrow, love, anguish. Fear. My knuckles. Bleeding bad. There is a decent sized hole in the sheetrock near the bathroom door. My pulse spikes. Adrenaline. Feels good.
There’s nothing to do but go see him now. My Demon. My last hope. Perhaps he has them, at last. The answers. The Truth.
My head is spinning as I walk the streets. I know how to get where I’m going. Thousands of them. Thoughts racing through my mind. Memories. I can’t process any of them. They fly by much to quickly.
Soon enough I’m there. I glance around. Mot too many people out, and none looking at me. I duck into the alley and jog down the stairs.
Again, I am in the room. There are two doors leading from it now. She lies in the corner. Susan.
Ten fifty-seven. The door in front of me bursts open with a bang, bouncing off the wall. There he is. Not panting, but a slight sheen of sweat covers his pallid, waxy brow, which means he’s probably been running. Fast. Demon fast.
“Get out! Take the other door behind you and go! There’s not time to explain. They are coming. Go!” the Demon tells me.
“Demon! What’s going on? I need answers!”
“Allan, there’s not time! I’ll try to buy you enough time to get out. I’ll contact you later, as soon as I can. They’ll be here in seconds. Get out!”
“Who’s com-” I begin to shout. I am cut off by thundering footsteps on the stairs, and four of the faceless Ascendancy piling through the doorway. From their gear and the way they move, I can tell they’re Demon Hunters, a covert squad specially trained to destroy any superhuman threat to the perfection and benevolence of the Ascendancy.
“Get down!”
“Hands on your head!”
“On your knees!” they shout. I bolt for the back door. The sound of a gun being fired shatters the charged stillness of the air. Miraculously, they miss me. I slam the door and run. Maybe they’ll catch me. Maybe Max can give me the final answers someday. I don’t know.
My name is Allan Christianson. I am thirty-seven years old.
And I am losing the Truth.

All of us.

I've noticed lately that there are a lot of people who aren't grateful for what they have. They always want more, more, more.
I am one of them.
I think we all are. I try not to be. I try to look at what I do have, how blessed I am, rather than what I don't have and what I want, but it's hard. I have lived most of my life wanting more and not seeing what really matters.
What I really want is to be closer to God. I don't want to admit it, but I've been ignoring Him a little bit lately. I haven't been listening, and last night I realized that. I need to become closer to Him, and learn to love and be thankful, rather than hate and want more.
I think we all should. I think if people ever had a choice between saving their own life and saving the life of a complete stranger, they should pick the stranger. I think we need to learn to put others before ourselves. Nearly nobody does it. We need to. We need to love other more than ourselves.
People have fallen so far. Sometimes I wish God would flood the earth again, but He said He won't. If everyone learned to help each other, there would be no need for money or power-hungry governments. There are so many people out there who need helping, and so many just don't want to help, or don't care.
I want to help. I want to spend my life bettering others'.
Just some thoughts I had as I couldn't sleep.

Just some stale thoughts

I've been thinking (scary, right?). Thinking about lots of things. Here are a few.
Plums are really delicious. The world is a tortured place, it's really screwed up. If I had my way, there wouldn't be school unless you wanted to go, and you could hang out with whoever you wanted whenever you wanted. Camp would be year round, even in the snow. Everyone would be carefree, why would you need to be stressed? What matters in life are the people you meet and interact with, not what you do or things you have. Friends and family are the most important things, possesions don't matter. I really don't know how anyone could see even the simplest things, such as the ocean, without believing in God. Who else could create something so beautiful, yet so dangerous? It is so massive you can hardly wrap your mind around it. It's so amazing. People care too much about things that don't matter, like money and work. Trust in God, and everything will work out in the end. The things to care about are people. People are all that matter. Spend time with the people you love, and if you can't because they live far away, write them, call them, email them, interact. I like music. It's a good way for people to express themselves. I like writing and poetry too. People pour out their souls into it, and yet so few people appreciate it. They would rather play video games and watch trashy TV shows than read a good book or write something. If you're ever bored, write. I think it's a good productive use of time. I'm not saying games and TV are bad, just too much of them is. Kind of like carrots, eating too many carrots makes your skin orange and then you throw up. It happened to my aunt when she was a kid. I like Canada. Vancouver is a beautiful place. I would like to go there again soon sometime, and take a few friends with me. It would be a fun trip. Maybe when I get a car I'll drive up there with some people at the end of summer. I miss everyone at camp a lot. It's really boring and sometimes tough to go on without you guys. You always encouraged me in tough times. Back on the subject of God, people who don't believe are stupid. Scratch that, not stupid, but misled. Just cause you're in a world of sin doesn't mean you should conform. Be transformed by the renewing of your mind. That's from the Bible. It's a good book. In fact, it's the good book. Jesus is the greatest friend you could ever have. Who else do you know that would be tortured and die for you just so you wouldn't be in Hell? Hell is a nasty place. Lots of people are going there. It's really sad. I used to think it was a little strange that there was some huge presence all around that created everything. Now I find it is strange that some people can believe there isn't. How many parts are in the human body? Lots. How many people do you know that think they are all put in the right places to work together like they do by accident? It's absurd. I mean, what are the chances of that? They were put there by someone, right? Who put them there? Oh yeah, there's that God thing again. He did create us and He is watching out for us, always. He is the only one who will never leave nor forsake you. He is the beginning and end, the Lion and the Lamb. A personal relationship with Jesus Christ the best thing that could ever happen to a person. Got troubles? Ask Him. Everything will be ok, just wait and listen. Things happen. I really don't want to go back to school, but I will so I can get through till next summer when I can see all those people I love and miss again. I've changed a lot over the summer. I think I have rather a lot more wisdom than I did before. I think deeper now, about things that matter. God will change you, and for the better. Everything seems so much more in tune now, more vivid and colourful. Maybe it's because I couldn't see before, but God has changed that. He works in the most amazing ways through the most amazing people you will ever meet. I learned to care more about people than anything this summer. God worked through my friends, old and new (especially new). I met so many amazing people while serving the Lord. My life seems boring at home now that you guys aren't here to make things happen, fun things and sometimes bad things. Even bad things can be good things. It doesn't matter what the moment is, it's still worth having. It's part of your life, and it helps make you who you are. Climb things just to be in a higher place. Swimming is always good, no matter what time it is. You can always laugh at something, in any situation. The forest doesn't have to be scary in the dark. If your stomach hurts, throw up. These are all things that I apparently taught someone this summer, but I think I just helped them realize it for themselves. Maybe it's the same thing once you cut down to it. I dunno. All I know is that termites taste like butter and God's word is truth. Other than that, it all can shift. Maybe you understood what I wrote, and maybe you think it's the babbling of a crazy man. Whatever it is, I hope you took something from it. I know someone will understand.