Categories
SHORT STORIES

4. Mars

(Mars, God of Rage)

I’m not a bad guy. I don’t rub people the wrong way. I usually try to be nice to people but sometimes they push me, even when they know they shouldn’t. I tried to have a nice day, but she just poked… and poked, and poked, and poked again, and again… until I lost it.

“Ugh! Haha lol”

“Another day at work and I still don’t have a paycheck to show for it…”

“Ha! Tell me about it bro, I’m still praying anytime I tap my card to get a fucking bagel!”

“Yeah! Last thyme I saw toe-st for 3 pounds and I was lyke: errr no?… Hahaha”

“Yeah lool”

“Yeah”

“..But anyways, I was thinking we could maybe get some drinks after work. What you guys thinking?”

“HAHAHA YOU JUST TALKED ABOUT BEING POOR YOU PRICK”

“Yeah but I ain’t broke”

I winked.

“O Brotherr…”

“I mean… I don’t mynd…”

“Nah bro, I’ve got uni tomorrow and my lecturer is already on my arse about handing in my dissertation.”

“Oh come on mann…”

“Nahhhh, I can’t.”

“Is it due in tomorrow?”

“Nah, but–“

“THEN why are you worrying? It’s just a few drinks. COME ONN. Pleeeeease, I’m SOO Boredddd, URGH!”

“I don’t know… Maria are you going?..”

“I’ll goe if you goe”

“SEE! COME!”

“*sigh*… okay I’ll come…”

“YESSSS!!! Trust me, you won’t regret it ”

I said it with a smile.

“Whatever, can you just go back to your section…”

Turner rolled his eyes.

“Why? it’s a nice day. The sun’s out.”

“So you can do your job?…”

“There’s nobody here!”

“So go do some pot wash then..”

“I’ll get it done! You know I can do it, just let me be..”

“What? No. I want to go home on time, ____”

“Hahaha”

“You know what I mean…”

He turned to Maria, eyes enlarging,

Grin expanding.

“Oh for fuck sake, don’t give me this bullshit again — I GET MY JOB DONE!”

“Okay whatever man, just go clean.”

“Nah fam I’m tryna chill.”

“Bro you know if Marsda finds you like this, she’ll kill you. I’m only trying to keep you from being fired…”

“Yeh ____ eet’s not good to bee hear, becoz if Marsda finds you h─ôre she will get you in traball”

“Urgh, whatever. There’s customers walking towards us anyways”

“____, stop talking.”

“I was just talk–“

“Stop talking, cook faster.”

Marsda was here.

.

.

Time passes by.

“____! ____!”

“Are you deaf?!”

“I’m waitinnnng!”

Okay…

“____, the customer is waiting!”

Okay…

“JACOB!”

OKAY!!!

OKAY!!!

OKAAAY!!!

WAIT FOR FUCK SAKE! IT’S NOT GONNA COME OUT OF THIN AIR! IF YOU WANT IT THEN YOU CAN MAKE IT, FUUCK!

.

.

Silence.

.

.

“____, you don’t get to talk to me like that..”

“I can have you reported you know!”

Ok whatever.

“No, stop.”

She comes in and takes over,

I tighten my lips, seething in rage.

She finishes and returns to the customer.

“Sorry about that, he’s just slow.”

I clench my fists and fill with acid.

The store quitens.

Manager starts talking with employees.

I clean meanwhile.

Manager goes downstairs.

Brushing past me in a passively-agressive fashion.

I smile.

Store stays quiet.

I talk to friends.

Enjoying myself.

Manager comes back.

Sees me in a good mood.

Starts shouting at me.

Ok whatever.

I walk away.

“____, come here.”

I give her the benefit of a doubt.

She bollocks me.

“You do NOTHING!”

“You don’t know NOTHING!”

I tell her:

Okay.

“NO IT’S NOT.”

She won’t stop.

I tell her: Okay.

She won’t stop.

I breathe in harder.

My eyes roll and my jaw locks in.

My nostrils flare.

She pokes me in my chest.

She’s poking the bear.

.

.

I tell her to stop it.

She pokes me again.

I tell her to stop.

She doesn’t stop.

I walk away.

She grabs my arm.

I knock her front teeth out.

Her noise fades, I only hear white noise.

No sound, I can’t see.

I can’t hear her screaming.

Perpetrator statement – During incident (Describing CCTV footage(inaudible) between 16:37:52 and 16:54:56:

A mindless rage swept ash into my eyes, flashing white light – reflected from the chrome kitchen tabletops, only to undress my vision to the rushing blood beneath my eyelids, then black. My mind evaporated and all that was left was the steam venting out of my nostrils. I pounced at the bitch, reaching for her neck – grabbing at it like a champagne bottle, only to land sitting on her pillow-of-a stomach, soft like a marshmellow, perfect to rest on as I tightened my grip on her neck, twisting the dry skin of my palms against her thyroid like a salt-shaker. Grinding, grazing and warping the thin skin above her airway. I switched to quick striking then clawing at the flesh on her eyelids, screetching and scratching, fueled by vengence and a fire of pure fucking hatred. I didn’t stop, I didn’t want to – I was enjoying it, laughing. My nails collected the freckles of her face only to dip them back into her bloody scars again and again and again. It was like mulling wine. Excavating, each scrape scratched off a layer of her forehead and the dead skin between. Then SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! I pummelled her head in with my fist like a dirty wrench, turning her head into potato mash with a vermillion gravy dressing on the side. I heard nothing but radio noise. I could feel my chuckles gear up laughter from the pit of my diaphragm. Like daggers, I set my teeth into her neck popping her veins like a balloon. It was all too good for me. I could feel her kicking and screaming but to no avail. I wanted to kill her and once I started, I would end it. Two minutes could only be so long. I guess they were right: Time goes fast when you’re having fun. The more she kicked and pushed, the closer she was to losing it. With blood in my teeth and spread across my face, I would continue by taking my two thumbs and pushing them into her windpipes. It was like playdoh but crunchier. She screamed trying to claw me off but I would only elbow her to keep her down, by then everytime she’d gasp for air her own blood would drip into her open mouth from my face, salted with my sweat as I hanged over her. She was reaching climax. I had won and she would only start fade but I would keep going, eating like an animal. Her blood was horrible, marroon, chunky; fat and tar. It had some grit to it between my teeth. By then I got what I wanted so I whipped my head back, pulling her by the strings of her hair, hold then BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, B… like cracking an egg. Bashing her cerebellum, I would not rest until I had broken to her gooey core. So I WHACKED AND WHACKED AND WHACKED her head against the cheap concrete floor until I saw red yolk run across the surface. She was just gurgling, choking on her own blood. The shock had caused her to seizure. She clinched onto my shirt with all she had left for one last grasp before slowly releasing, thus shivering uncrontronably. But I kept going and then 1, 2 , CUR- RACK!. It was over.

So much violence, so much bloodshed, over. What a show. It was done. The rage that consumed me had taken her, now all that was left was to wait for the vultures. Its so funny how rage warms you, more than love, heating you from cold nothing and absolutely filling you. A momentary lapse of reason, momentary. The heat from my head had drifted and as my heart rate slowed down I started to feel the cold of my finger tips. I looked down. Suddenly my eyes widened, muscles tightened and stomach plunged dowwwwwwwwwn. I leaped back in a state of fear, shock and disbelief. Backed into the mini fridge I cowered, “no… no.. no… no.. no.. nonononono…” and started crying, rocking backwards and forwards holding onto my knees with my head tucked in between. I didn’t even want to look. I could sense the ambience of the room and the fear that gripped my coworkers and the customers. My heart had never beated so fast. I knew what I had done. I didn’t want to believe it. I knew what it meant. I knew there was no escape – only witnesses. I looked down at my toes and saw the blood flowing under the soles of my shoes. I knew what I had done to the rest of my life. I cried even harder, crying like a child with veins popping out of my neck, sobbing. I watched the tears splash on the floor, streaming from my eyes down to my lips, mixing with the mucus and saliva that hanged there aswell. I looked up to see wide open eyes and people turned blue. I could only mutter “I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry” before I tucked my head back in. Then 5 seconds later I heard heavy boots against the shop floor — running in my direction saying, “GET DOWN! GET YOUR HANDS UP! GET DOWN ON THE FUCKING GROUND!”. It was done and I was over. The vultures were here for me, not her. After everything was done and the smoke had cleared I knew, I was done.

Categories
POEMS

Siren trash

The voice that haunts us like a siren
she calls us all
Her howls melt away the ice in our hearts
to let our feelings flow like water
If my mother was dead she would sound as beautiful to me as this
Holy is the cold and disfigured serenity that motivates us to hold ourselves in self-pity
and plunge into the cold depths of emptiness and victimhood
Her distorted voice sings me a narrative to drown myself in
If there is no love out there
I'm not ready
The convictions I hold as cold weights tied to my ankles
haven't dragged me down deep enough
I'll call you when I'm ready
I'm not done brooding

Categories
POEMS

If you loved me, you’d let me sleep

That Blank stare
and those repetitive answers
and the uh-huh's
They irritate you and I can tell
I can see the slight awkwardness between silences
The inhibited second stutter while I read your lips and your mind
Your face hangs loose hopelessly
but your heart beats tightly trying to keep it together
I see you getting smaller but the negative energy around you growing larger
But just because I don't exist the way you want me to
doesn't mean you don't exist to me
I listen to you through your thoughts,
not your words
I love you for what you've done for me
Not what you've said to me
Now come back to bed
I'm tired
I've got work tomorrow.