Saturday, September 18, 2010

Forever is a Dream.

Forever is a dream.

            They lay in the field, staring up at the stars, as they did every weekend. Weston and Violet lay on a blanket staring up, as they cuddled close. Today was a special day, a day they wouldn’t forget.
            “Happy one year, Violet.” Weston said, and kissed her forehead. Violet looked back up at Weston, and kissed his lips. She muttered the same thing to him, “Happy one year, Weston.”
            They laid there in silence, both so happy with their lives. The park they sat lay in was closed at night, but they had found an area where people wouldn’t look. Weston and Violet were under an old tree, and they were just around a hill. They were completely invisible to everyone else.
            “Do you fear death, Weston?”
            “Not if I am with you when it happens.”
            “I wish I could live with you forever. I wish we would never age, and we would always remain teenagers.”
            Weston thought about what Violet had just said. “Forever?” He asked. They were both seventeen, and like every other teenager, they used the phrase “I love you” too soon. But they meant it, when they first said it. They had been dating for only three months, and Violet had said it first. She was so scared to say it first, but she was afraid it wasn’t going to be said. Immediately after she had said it, Weston kissed her and said it back.
            “Yes, forever. Don’t you agree?” Violet asked.
            “…If I found a way to become immortal, would you really live with me forever?” Weston asked back.
            “Of course I would.”
            “Then I’ll find a way.”
            Violet tucked her face into Weston’s chest, and they laid there until the sun began to shine over the beautiful mountains. Weston packed up everything, and they went their separate ways, only to fall asleep in their beds because they had stayed up all night.
            This is the way anyone wanted to spend the first night of summer. On this very day, one year ago, Weston had asked Violet to be his at the end of the last school day. It was quite unexpected, too. But that was just how Violet had liked it, completely and without a doubt, spontaneous.

           
            Summer was great, and when Weston woke up, it was only about 8. He had been expecting to sleep in until around noon, but he had a lot on his mind. He woke up and went straight to his computer, without eating breakfast, to research how to become immortal.
            Weston had a little brother, named Tyler. Tyler attended the middle school that Weston used to go to.
            Tyler was stomping up every step headed upstairs, surely waking up their parents.
            “Good morning, big brother!” Tyler yelled at the top of his lungs.
            “Shut the fuck up, Tyler. You’ll wake up Mom and Dad. Go away.” Weston responded. Knowing that Weston would get angry, Tyler yelled, “Mom, Weston told me to ‘shut the fuck up!’”
            A faint voice could be heard from their parent’s room, saying, “Go to your room, Wes.”
            Weston quickly turned back around to the computer to print out the page he was reading, and he punched Tyler as hard as he could in his shoulder. “I hate you, Tyler. I’ve never liked you. Ever since you were born, I was begging Mom and Dad to take you back to the hospital.” Weston said. He grabbed his papers while Tyler just sat there trying to grasp what his older brother had just said to him.
            What Weston had said to Tyler was true; Tyler continued to cry whenever he was brought home. Weston was at the age of three at this point. Tyler cried and cried and cried. Weston walked into his parent’s room at about four in the morning to ask, “Mom, Dad? Can we take Tyler back now?”


            “Hey baby, how’s your day? I had fun last night.” Violet answered.
            “I found out how to become immortal.”
            “Oh, did you?” Violet was laughing at him.
            “I did.” Weston responded, dead serious.
            There was a silence over the line, and Violet giggled. “Well, what did you find?”
            “I can’t talk for too long, because I’m in trouble. But there is a grave in the cemetery way uptown, the name on the grave is ‘Ronald Hubbel.’”
            “Okay…?” Violet was confused.
            “If you kill a loved one or someone dear to you, get some blood, and pour it on the grave, Hubbel will grant you immortality.”
            “That sounds a little crazy, Weston. Listen to yourself.” Violet said. “Plus, who the hell is this Hubbel guy?”
            “I’m going to kill Tyler.”
            “WHAT?! WHY?!”
            “To be with you.” Weston responded.
            “Weston, you can’t.”
            “I’m going to slit his throat. We’ll see if I am immortal the next day, and if it worked, you can do it too.”
            “WESTON. NO. You can’t do this. Can’t you just cut his arm and get some blood?” Violet asked.
            “No, Tyler has to die. The trick will not work unless he is dead. The best way to kill someone, mortal or immortal, is by slitting the throat.” Weston explained.
            “You cannot kill an immortal person by slitting his or her neck.”
            “I know. That much is true. But listen. Love is the only thing that counteracts with immortality.”
            “Weston, this is fucking stupid. So you’re saying that tonight, you’re going to slit your brother’s throat, pour the blood on a grave, and live forever?”
            “Yep. That’s what I’m saying.” Weston said.
            “This is the dumbest thing I have ever heard.”
            “I’ll take you with me and we’ll go live somewhere far away from Colorado.”
            “This isn’t going to work, Weston.”
            “I love you, Violet.”
            “I love you too, but don’t do this.”
            Weston hung up.


            Richard Hubbel was a reject. An outcast. As a high school student, Richard was considered one of those kids that just wasn’t all there.
            Richard was a senior in high school when he met Tabatha. She was a girl that wasn’t quite there, either. But when they were together, they were the perfect match, and that was all that mattered.
            The year was 1967. One night during the summer, a neighbor reported screaming to the police from the Hubbel’s house, and the neighbor had also seen Richard running out of his house, with a glass of what seemed to be red wine.
            As Richard ran, he did not pay much attention to traffic. Cars were slamming on their brakes and swerving their paths to let Richard continue running. But a car driving a sixty miles per hour did not pay close enough attention, and slammed right into Richard, when he was just across the street from a cemetery in Colorado.
            The glass that Richard was holding, which had blood instead of wine, flew out of his hand across the street into the cemetery. The blood landed on a walkway, just next to a grave. A man walking by witnessed Tabatha, hopping the fence into the cemetery, to blow on that very concrete walkway. She was trying to blow the blood off of the concrete and onto the grave.
            They had a funeral for Richard. His family showed up, and even Tabatha’s parents arrived. They told Richard’s parents that Tabatha had run away.
            During the funeral, they mourned two deaths. Richard had slit his older sister’s throat, taken the blood and put it into a glass. His Mom had walked in just as he was leaving, and she screamed at the sight of her daughter laying there, dead.
            Richard’s sister was in her coffin; however, they never found Richard. Tabatha never came home.
            Legend has it, they both live somewhere in Minnesota, but Richard’s parents don’t know that. Richard Hubbel’s grave remains in Colorado.


            Weston and Violet were together at the park, but this time, the sun was still up. There were only a couple of clouds. Weston and Violet were sitting at the edge of the park’s playground.
            “Who am I supposed to kill, Weston?”
            “I don’t know, dear. Kill a cousin you don’t really like.”
            “Jesus Christ, Weston. I can’t believe you’re going through with this.”
            Violet began to cry. She was not a big fan of the idea of killing a loved one.
            “Violet, we’ll be teenagers forever. Don’t you want that with me? Don’t you love me?”
            “Of course I love you, Weston.”
            “I’m not asking for sex, Violet. This really isn’t that big of a deal.”
            “No, but you’re asking me to MURDER someone. You want me to END someone’s LIFE.”
            Weston kissed her cheek, and walked home.


            The sun had gone down. Weston remained silent at the dinner table. Tyler blabbered on about how his day was, and how he was going to have a lot of fun tomorrow. Weston snickered.
            Tyler, in no way shape or form, did anything to alter Weston’s decisions for what was to come later that night. Tyler threw broccoli at Weston, and he did not react at all. He did nothing, and as usual, Tyler received no punishment. Weston was always considered the bad child, because he was the older brother. It was never fair. If Weston broke a glass he was grounded for a week. If Tyler broke a priceless vase, he was only scolded. If Weston said anything, he would be in trouble. It caused him to bottle a lot of his emotions inside, because he could never say anything.
            Dinner went by quickly, and Weston got up to push his chair in, and put his plate by the sink as he was supposed to. He silently walked into the living room and began to watch some television, when just five minutes later, Tyler yanked the remote from Weston’s hands to change the channel.
            They sat there watching whatever Tyler wanted to watch, and Weston had no choice at all. Tyler flipped through music videos filled with big beat nonsense, and stupid reality shows like the rest of the population.
            The clock struck ten, and Weston went into bed. Of course, Tyler made a little remark as Weston was walking up the stairs. “Good night, faggot.” Weston continued to walk without paying any attention.
            It didn’t matter; it would all be over soon. He wouldn’t have to deal with Tyler anymore, and he could live with Violet, forever in happiness.
            Weston lay in bed, his arms above the covers, staring up at the ceiling. His phone vibrated, and he had received a text message from Violet. It only said, “I love you.” Of course, Weston sent a message saying the same thing.

            There are four definitions for the word “slit”. The first definition describes a narrow fissure. The second definition states, “A depression scratched or carved into a surface.” Synonyms for this definition are incision, scratch, prick, and dent.
            The third definition of “slit” states an obscene term for female genitalia. Synonyms for this definition are cunt, puss, pussy, snatch, and twat.
            The last definition intertwines with the first two definitions when it comes to what Weston was going to do to Tyler. The fourth definition states a “Long narrow opening”.
           
            Weston wasn’t afraid at all. It was as if he had been ready to do this for a long time. Maybe he had wanted to kill Tyler since he had told his parents to take him back. Maybe he was possessed by the thought of killing that there really wasn’t any turning back, not anymore. Weston’s mind had entered such a dark state that no one could get him out of it, not even the love of his life.
            The clock struck twelve. Weston had thought for two hours how he was planning to get out of the house after he had cut his brother’s throat. Good thing for him, Tyler was a heavy sleeper. Weston heard his front door open and close.
            Weston pulled the blankets off of him, and got up. He was wearing his tight jeans and a heavy coat. How he was able to be that warm under the blanket is beyond thought. He must have had his mind too deep in thought himself.
            Weston took slow, quiet steps down to the kitchen. The moon was full in the clear sky, and all of the blinds in the house were open. The moon shined bright into the house, anyone could have seen what Weston was doing.
            He went down the hallway and took a left into the kitchen. He walked past the right side of the kitchen table; the wood floor was freezing cold. Weston went past the oven, past the cookie jar, past the sink, to the corner of the kitchen. There, was his mother’s cooking knife collection. He went for the biggest one, and took it right off of the wall. Weston also grabbed a cup, for blood.
            He took the same journey back out to the hallway. Past the sink, the cookie jar, the oven, and past the kitchen table. Weston continued to take slow, quiet steps, and went up the stairs. Weston could hear a few movements upstairs, and it made him stop. It just sounded like Tyler was moving around in bed.
            Weston sat outside of Tyler’s room, for fifteen minutes straight. He made sure that there wasn’t any movement, any noise. He stood up, and twisted the doorknob to walk in. The blinds were closed; the room was nearly pitch black.
            Weston tiptoed up to Tyler, and took long deep breaths. If this was going to be executed, it had to be perfect. Weston could see Tyler’s long, greasy brown hair in the dark, covering his face.
            So, Weston put the long knife across Tyler’s neck. Weston smiled to himself and said, “I love you, little brother.” He pulled the knife back quickly, and a long open gash ran across Tyler’s neck. Blood spewed, and Tyler made the choking sound.
            Weston had regained conscious thought, and he had realized what he just did. He started crying, but he got the cup, and filled it up halfway with Tyler’s blood. Weston quickly tiptoed back outside of the room, and closed the door. Weston ran out to the garage and opened it. He grabbed his bike, while carefully holding on to the cup of blood. A few drops had run down the glass and onto his hand. He put a flashlight in his back pocket.
            Weston biked as fast as he could to the destination of his immortality.


            Weston, with the blood in his hand, had reached the cemetery. There was a hole in the fence, and he had crawled through it. The blood still filled the cup nearly halfway.
            The next problem that Weston had was that he did not know where the grave of Richard Hubbel was. He grabbed his flashlight and began running through the cemetery, until he reached the very middle of it.
            There was the grave. The name was right there. Richard S. Hubbel, rest in peace. Weston did not take his time; he immediately poured the blood onto the grave, and waited to see what would happen.
            Weston felt a quick rush crawl up his spine. He wasn’t cold, and it wasn’t a pee shiver, it had started from his feet and travelled all the way to his head. He felt better in a way.
            The impossible happened. Richard Hubbel’s grave immediately spawned a flower. A little dandelion, shot out of the ground and opened up. Weston did not know how to prove he was immortal.
            Weston had a thought run through his mind. He needed to go home and hide Tyler’s body, before it was morning. The moon was going down, and Weston sprinted back to his bike, and headed home.
            And for a second, Weston laughed to himself. No, not because he felt relieved that he had gained physical immortality, but because of the thought of being hit by a car and still being able to survive. Weston was not going to try it, not yet.
            The clock struck two in the morning as he was biking home, and Weston gave Violet a call. She didn’t answer. Weston assumed she was probably sleeping.


            Weston got home, scared of the thought of his parents being awake. He dropped his bike in the driveway, and walked in through the garage. No lights in the house were on. This was a good sign.
            Weston opened the door to the garage, usually the loudest door in the house. He took off his slip-on shoes immediately to lessen the noise. He had to go upstairs, and take care of Tyler’s body. Maybe he did it just to stay there a few more days with his Mom and Dad, without being interrupted or being annoyed. Maybe he did it because he wanted the attention. Maybe he did it so he could live there, forever.
            He tiptoed up the stairs and went into Tyler’s room. The fresh blood from the body was shining in the moonlight that had come from the hallway. Weston walked up to the bed, and ripped off the blanket.
            Tyler’s body was dressed in black completely. Weston grabbed Tyler’s wrist to check for a pulse, and it was smaller than usual. Weston’s heart dropped. For a final test, he reached at Tyler’s chest.
            Weston felt breasts.
            He panicked, and turned on the light.
            Lying there was Violet’s body.
            A note was lying on the bedside table.


            Just a few hours earlier, Violet called Weston’s house. Tyler answered, listening to his hip hop music on the television.
            “Yeah?”
            “Is Weston there? I tried to call his cell phone.”
            “No. He’s in bed. Do you want something?”
            “No, not really. I might come over to check on him.”
            “Well, I’m sleeping downstairs tonight, so be quiet when you come in. I won’t tell my parents.”
            “Hmm… Thanks, Tyler. Bye.”
            “Bye.”
            Tyler grabbed a couple of blankets and some pillows from his bed and ran downstairs. He turned the television off just before he went to sleep. He fell asleep around eleven.
            To make herself more unseen in the dark, Violet dressed herself in black to avoid getting caught. She went through people’s yards and avoided the sidewalk. Violet’s watch beeped, and said 12:00 whenever she got inside.
            Violet knew where Tyler’s room was. She tiptoed upstairs and left her shoes downstairs, hoping Weston wouldn’t see them in the dark. She twisted the doorknob into Tyler’s dark room and got under the blankets.
            Just then, she heard Weston’s door open.


            “Dearest Weston,
            Let me start off by apologizing. I was in love with you, but in the worst way possible, I did use you. Do you remember me ever talking about my first love a few years ago? Well, let me just say, he told me one night that he wished we last forever, as teenagers.
            So, do you know what I did? I went online. I researched how to become immortal, and in this small town of Littleton, there was a page about a man named Richard Hubbel. I looked him up, I studied his history, much like you did. Hubbel found a way to become immortal. When he was struck by a car, the blood of his beloved sister struck the grave of another man that found out how to become immortal.
            Questions still rise. The man that was immortal before Hubbel, was he even in the grave? Is Hubbel in his grave? Legend has it that he and his love, Tabatha, are still alive living somewhere far away.
            I killed my first love, Weston.
            And you were spot on, Weston. The only ways to kill an immortal person is by either slitting the throat (if they are in love with you.) or chopping off their head. And I am in love with you, and I am so sorry that I used you.
            So now, you have the Hubbel Curse. You must find someone to fall in love with you, so far deep in love that they would kill to be with you forever. Make them kill you somehow, so you don’t have to live in eternity alone.
            It’s a never ending curse, Weston. It can be stopped, but the person you love and the person that loves you are never, ever the same person. I didn’t love you as much as you loved me.
            I, again, am sorry. Your family should be up any minute. I suggest you run.
Sincerely,
Violet.”

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Saboteur (Kids Part 4)

Saboteur  By Wolfgang Kaiser



Saboteur: (Noun) Someone who commits sabotage or deliberately causes wrecks.
Synonyms: Wrecker; Diversionist

“Cecil becomes a saboteur of Jeremy’s life.”


     People that suffer from schizophrenia experience the following:
·         Unusual or bizarre ideas or thoughts.
·         Odd behavior or speech.
·         Confusion; Believing televisions and dreams are reality.
·         Confused thinking.
·         Extreme moodiness.
·         Paranoia: Ideas that people are talking about them; out to get them.
·         Severe anxiety and fearfulness.
·         Difficulty keeping and relating to friends.
·         Decline in personal hygiene.
·         Increased isolation.

Just two days after having sex for my first time, I’m left alone. Alicia won’t talk to me, my parents hate having a crazy kid, and they don’t want me anymore. I’ve been accused of killing someone… I don’t understand, this shouldn’t have happened.
·         Increased isolation.
My feet hang off of this cliff; dwelling over what has happened is all I can do. The very thought of jumping is becoming more and more justified every moment.
Some moments I’m crying, some moments I’m angry at Cecil, some moments I’m happy that everyone else will be happy when I’m gone.
·         Extreme moodiness.
I’m never going to be alone; Cecil will always be here. I’m never going to be happy; Alicia no longer loves me. As I become drenched in thought, the need to end my life increases. What has happened and what is to come don’t matter anymore, I’ll just become a distant memory.
I close my eyes before I make the final decision, and I think about the events of the past week that have led me to this point.


     Cecil took over me, the night of the party. I had a few drinks, and I saw him. He walked up to me and said, “Hey, nice catch. She’s hot.” He proceeded to cover my eyes with his hands, and took control. He led Alicia upstairs to the guest room, originally Cecil’s room before he passed, and had sex with her.
     She asked me, no, she asked him, “Are you sure you want to do this? I thought we’d wait until we’re older…” to which he responded, “If you love me… You would do this with me.”
     I swear to you, it wasn’t me. I would never pressure the love of my life to give away the most sacred thing she could. It wasn’t fair to her, I could not believe those words escaped my mouth.
     I had an out-of-body experience at that moment, or so it felt; I was standing there, witnessing myself having sex with Alicia. At one point, Cecil turned MY head and looked at me standing there, and smiled. I should never have been with her; Cecil had loved her before he had passed.
     I took back control just before I had climaxed, and I could hear Cecil saying, “You’re welcome.”
·         Hallucinations; seeing things and hearing voices that aren’t real.
Of course the sex only lasted merely a minute, because it was my first time. Of course Alicia was dissatisfied, getting no pleasure back, but I’m sure that wasn’t the only reason she was discontent. We both sat at the edge of the bed, putting our clothes back on, not speaking one word.
We both walked down the stairs together. I figured it would be a Donnie Darko sort of thing; we would hold hands, smiling, going down the stairs in slow motion, “Under the Milky Way” by The Church playing in the background… But that’s not how it was at all. She sort of walked in front of me, not grabbing my hand or anything.
As we approached the front door, Alicia grabbed the bag of blankets. Unfortunately for her, she told her Mom that she was spending the night at my house, so she couldn’t go home at midnight, or it would look suspicious, meaning she had to sleep with me at the playground. I couldn’t go home either; I told my parents I was at her house.
We began to walk out of the house and Reggie ran up to us. “Guys, guys! Where are you going? The party isn’t over!” Just as Alicia was about to answer him, I punched him square in the nose.
·         Difficulty keeping and relating to friends.
I had to do it,; he’s tried to take Alicia multiple times when I was in Hell. Reggie was a user, and more importantly, he was competition. He started stepping back, holding his nose, and he tripped over the curb. He smashed the back of his head on the sidewalk. The music came to a stop, everyone was looking over, shocked.
“What the fuck, man?” Reggie says.
“What is wrong with you?!” Alicia says. I grabbed her arm and led her to the playground. She told me to let go of her, and I respected her wishes. I should’ve blamed the punch on Cecil, but I would have been lying. That punch was all me.
We got to the playground, not speaking a word. There were no lights on by the school, just the stars. Alicia and I got our blankets out, and lay down. I could barely see, but I saw Alicia look down at her arm where I grabbed. It was bruised.
Alicia was turned away from me, and I heard sniffling. I couldn’t put my arm around her, she would’ve told me to get off. It was the most awkward half hour of my entire life. Neither of us slept, and I couldn’t piece together the right words to say.
“Alicia… I lost control. I’m so sorry.”
“Bullshit, Jeremy. What are you trying to tell me, that Cecil took over?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck you.”
“Please believe me. I didn’t take my meds today.”
“So, Cecil pressured me into sex, is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.”
Alicia threw her blanket off of her, onto me, and left. I didn’t get up to try and stop her, there was no point. I took her pillow and put it under my head. It smelled of Alicia’s hair; I’ll always miss that smell. It helped me think of better times, but I ended up crying myself to sleep.
When I woke up, I headed home. I put all the blankets in my bad and left the playground. Seeing as Reggie lived just a few doors down from me, I had to walk right by his house.
I looked straight as I passed his house. There was dry blood on the sidewalk from Reggie’s nose. In the corner of my eye, I saw toilet paper in the trees, red cups all over the lawn, and people sleeping all around the red cups. One of the girls was Alicia, holding a plastic cup in her hand.
I didn’t want Reggie to see me, but I quickly kneeled down to shake Alicia. She didn’t wake, so I picked her up and carried her home. Every step I took was careful, since I didn’t want to wake her. I got to her street and she moaned in her sleep. We got to her front porch, and I sat her down on the porch swing that we spent a lot of time on as kids.
I shook her once again. “Alicia, wake up.” Her eyes opened up and she grasped her surroundings, realizing that she was on her porch. Her eyes were squinted; the bright sun killed her head.
“…How did I get here?” She asked.
“I carried you, you were passed out on Reggie’s lawn.”
“Very nice of you. You can go home now.” She said.
I looked at her, and her eyes were wide. Her mouth was straight, and she was completely serious. I stood up, and I bent down to kiss her forehead.
“I said leave.”
I got off her porch immediately and headed home. I didn’t turn to look back, but I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my skull. The walk home made me cry too; Alicia should’ve been holding my hand.
I thought this was only temporary, but boy, was I wrong. I got home, and on my sidewalk in blood said, “You’re dead.” Accompanied with a smiley face at the end. I rubbed my eyes, and I looked again, it was gone.
·         Paranoia; Ideas that people are out to get them.
·         Hallucinations; Seeing things that aren’t real.
·         Severe anxiety and fearfulness.
I ran inside and sat on the couch, my Mom and Dad heard me come in. Cecil sat there on the couch opposite from my parents, staring into my blue eyes with his brown ones.
“Hey Jeremy, how’s Alicia?” My Mom asks.
“You guys go all the way?” My Dad jokes. My Mom punched my Dad’s shoulder.
“You’re hilarious, Dad.” I say back.
Cecil is smiling at me. “Well… I went all the way with her.” He was asking for trouble, but I didn’t say anything back. I looked down at my lap, Alicia should have had her head here. Cecil was ruining my life, and that was the very first moment I considered killing myself.
The phone rang, and my Dad went to answer it in the kitchen. My Mom sat down next to Cecil, Cecil continued to stare at me.
“Well hello, sir!” My Dad says.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel old. Hello, John!”
“Oh, are you sure we should do this?”
“Yes, John. We’ll start that today, actually. Talk to you in about a week!” My Dad began to walk up the stairs, and goes into my bathroom.”
“Dad… What are you doing?” I asked. He came downstairs with my pills in his hand and says, “John says we’re going to see how you do without your pills for a week.”
Cecil’s stare is still going; a smile emerges.
“Dad, I need those pills.”
“No, you’re fine.” I kept trying to convince him, but he wouldn’t budge. School was in six days, meaning I would go to school the first day without my medication.
I went up to my room, infuriated. Those pills are the only weapon I have in the war against Cecil, and It was being taken away from me. I lay in bed, and once again cried myself to sleep.
My dream, of course, was of the old man choking me, then seeing Cecil and screaming in his general direction. I woke up instantly, and I got out of bed. I was restless. I sat at the edge of my bed, running my hands through my hair, and my parents walked in. My Mom gave me a cup of tea.
“Honey… Alicia’s Mom called.” My heart stopped.
“She’s been crying in her room all morning. Do you know what’s going on?” My Mom asked.
Cecil laughs. “She’s crying because you came too soon.”
“I have no idea,” I said. “But I have a few things to do around town, I may stop by and check on her.” My Mom and Dad both nodded their heads in agreement. I got up and went down into the garage. I was going to jump on my bike, but it was much too small. I got on my Dad’s bike and it was too big, but when I jumped on my Mom’s bike, it was just right.
I biked about five miles across town, with Cecil popping out in random places. On a car, on top of a telephone pole, in a tree, in the middle of the road. I went down a nice trail, trees on both sides.
I was back in Hell.
I didn’t want to go inside, so I looked through the chain-link fence. There he was, the Old Man, sitting there in his wheelchair, looking at the scenery.
I yelled at him. “Excuse me, sir! Can I talk to you for a brief moment?” He looked over at me, and rolled towards me.
“Hello, do you remember me?” I asked.
“Of course. Hello, Jeremy.” He said. He remembered my name.
“There is something that has bothered me for quite a few years, and I need to talk to you. Do you remember attacking me back when I was here?”
“Yes. I still am very sorry for what happened.”
“Don’t sweat it. As you were being sedated, you were screaming at something. What was it?” I asked.
“It wasn’t something,” He told me. “It was someone. There was a kid pointing and laughing at me.”
“What did he look like?”
“He looked like the little shit behind you!” The old man said. I turned around and looked, Cecil was standing there smiling.
“You see him?” I asked.
“Is this some sort of game? Are you trying to play a trick on an old man?” He asked. He turned around in his wheelchair and began to leave. I didn’t stop him, I was too shocked. I turned around and faced Cecil.
“Cecil, are you a ghost?” I asked. He looked at me with a serious face.
“I think it’s time for you to go see my Mom.” He said, and disappeared.


     As I got home, I walked right past my Mom, and my Dad was at work. I walked into the kitchen, and found the phonebook. Her name was Cecilia Manning, and I had always wondered where they got the name Cecil.
     I wrote down her address, and went onto the computer to find directions, which was hard, I hadn’t really used the computer for quite some time. My Mom came into the room to look over on my shoulder, and said, “I know that street. Obviously you’re looking for the Hawthorne Apartments. Let me drive you there.”
     She got ready, and we headed out. When she asked who I was visiting, I told her no one important (so she wouldn’t want to come in), and that it wouldn’t be too long of a visit.
     “Mom… What happened to Cecilia?”
     “Manning?”
     “Yeah.”
     “After you left, she felt so horrible. Of course the fact that her family died put her down, but as soon as you started seeing Cecil when he wasn’t there, it just made matters worse. I caught her trying to kill herself.”
     “Oh God, how?” I asked.
     “I came to visit her one night, our usual movie night, and she didn’t answer the door. I found that strange, because all the lights were on, and her car was there. Being the nosy person I am, I invited myself in. She was nowhere to be found downstairs, so I went up and heard water running.”
     My Mom stopped for a moment to pay more attention to the busy road. “I pushed open her bedroom door, calling her name. She didn’t answer I knocked on her bathroom door, and it opened. What I saw still disturbs me today.”
     “What did you see?”
     “Cecilia was underwater in her bathtub. The door stopped opening because it hit something on the floor, and a cord was running across the bathroom. On the floor, sat a toaster. The water began to flow over the edge, down onto the floor, and towards the toaster. I quickly yanked and unplugged the toaster plug, and threw it out to the bedroom. I got down and kneeled next to the bathtub. I turned off the water and yanked her naked body out of the tub. She smacked on the floor and immediately coughed out water. She hadn’t drowned, she was going to face the electricity.”
     We stopped the car in front of the apartment, and she continued her story. “I was drenched in water, and although she was too, I could see the tears. I didn’t leave her side for three days, and I made her see a therapist.” I turned around and looked at the backseat of the car, and there sat Cecil, crying. I felt myself tearing up as well.
·         Extreme moodiness.
I got out of the car without saying a single word. Cecilia’s apartment was H302, on the third floor. I ran up all the stairs, and knocked on the door twice, and Cecil knocked two more times after me. He was taking more and more control.
     She opened the door, and I was shocked. The hot Mom I once knew had changed entirely. She was as pale as a vampire, as skinny as a twig. She was hard to look at.
     “…Jeremy… Is that you?” She asked. She was leaning from side to side, her eyes pink and half-closed. Her once brown hair was gray and all messed up. I wanted to cry when I saw the track marks on her arms.
     She was definitely high.
     “Hello, Ms. Manning.” Of course she came up to hug me, and Cecil joined in for a group hug. She invited me inside, and I came right in. The place was a mess; it looked as if she hadn’t cleaned it in quite some time. She walked extremely fast, straight to her couch.
     “Please, sit down!” She insisted. I sat down next to her, while she attempted to hide a razorblade and a rolled up dollar bill from me.
     Cocaine, I was certain.
     “I don’t have much time, but I need to ask you of something.” I said.
     “Yes?” She was shaking.
     “Do you believe in ghosts?” Cecil and I said in unison. He had even more tears in his eyes than before. I wasn’t crying though.
     “What, are you going to tell me that Cecil was a ghost the whole time you saw him?” She asked. Cecil stared at her. “Tell her I love her, Jeremy.”
     “Cecil wants you to know that he loves you.”
     “Shut up, Jeremy.” She said. Cecil leans over my shoulder, whispering things into my ears.
     “His favorite food as a kid was Macaroni and Cheese. His favorite thing to do when he was alive was to play tag with Alicia and I. The thing he misses the most was when you used to read him nursery rhymes up until the fifth grade. Cecil also says just a few days ago, he drew a heart on the steamy mirror in your bathroom.”
     She started crying and immediately told me to leave. I got up and walked to the door. Cecil walked to his Mom, who was holding the door, and hugged her. Her eyes remained focused on me. He pulled back to look at her and said, “Mom, if you leave me behind now, who else am I to turn to?” She screamed, “OUT!” meaning I must have said it, not Cecil.
     I stepped out and she slammed the door. I didn’t move for a little bit, contemplating what had just happened. I heard footsteps to the door. Cecilia opened the door and threw a book all the way down the stairs. She looked at me, with tears in her eyes, and went inside.
     I walked down the stairs, and as soon as I reached the bottom step with Cecil, I heard a loud, banging noise. It sounded like a gun.
     The book, which was on the ground, had its front side down, facing the concrete. I bent down to pick it up, and I wanted to break down; right there in public. This book meant more to me than anything else in the world.
     The Big Book of Paper Airplanes.
     I had to apologize to Cecilia.
     I ran up the stairs, two steps at a time. Once I got to the top, Cecil was already there, banging on the door. I quickly reached for the doorknob, and ran inside.
     Cecilia was laying in the living room, dead. She had a pistol in her hand; she had shot herself in the head. Cecil pushed me out of the way.
     “MOM!” He screamed. He ran to her body, a red stain outlined the back of her head on the carpet. He shook her violently, and outside, I could hear doors opening.
     “Cecil, we have to go.”
     “WE’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE, JEREMY.” He screamed at me. He was crying uncontrollably. He continued to shake her, whispering to himself things that I could not begin to hear.
     From behind me, I could feel someone’s presence. A shadow invaded the floor of the apartment. I turned around, and a man was staring at me. He had his mouth wide open, he dropped his drink, and he was shocked.
     The first move I did, I tried to run past him. The man spread his arms and legs in the doorway so I could not leave. “CALL THE POLICE!” He screamed. I ran back into the living room, and grabbed the razorblade that was on Cecilia’s glass table. I ran back to the man, and held the razorblade at his face. “Hold me here, and I will cut you.”
     He backed up, keeping his hands up, and I ran. Holding onto the book that would keep me sane and keep Cecil away, I jumped down each set of stairs.
     I jumped into the car, and my Mom asked me what I was holding. She obviously did not hear the shot, listening to music in the car. I told her that I didn’t want to talk about it. She turned the radio back up, and we headed home. I sat there, and when we got home, I prepared myself to visit the cemetery which Cecil was buried.


The sun almost set when I knocked on the door.
I knocked twice.
Cecil knocked twice.
The porch wasn’t lighted, but I heard steps down the stairs to the door. The porch light came on, the door popped open, and out came the person I was expecting to see.
“Hello, Jeremy.” She said.
“Hello, Ms. Beatrice.” I said back.
“How may I help you?” She was obviously angry.
“I came to see your daughter, if that is alright with you.” I said back.
“I don’t know what you did to her, but I am not happy with you.” She stepped to the side and allowed me in. I looked at her, and then I headed up the stairs, I had left my shovel and backpack outside so Alicia’s Mom wouldn’t question me.
I got to Alicia’s door, which was covered with drawings and pictures of us, some of them including Cecil. There was even a picture of Cecil and I in dresses, and I wanted to tear it in half. Cecil looked at me, and I ripped the picture off the door.
I knocked twice.
Cecil knocked twice.
“Come in, Mom.” I heard Alicia say on the other side of the door. She wasn’t expecting me at all.
I opened the door, and when she saw me, she looked down at her lap, refusing to make eye contact with me. “May I help you?” She asked. Cecil remained standing as I walked over and sat at the edge of her bed.
“I remember this day like it was yesterday,” I said, looking at the picture. “You threw blindfolds on us and I dressed us up like girls. Right before Cecil and I noticed it, you took pictures with your disposable camera and ran out of the house. I remember how long we chased after-”
“Rip it to shreds, Jeremy.” Cecil said.
“What do you want, Jeremy?” Alicia asked.
“Just… Hear me out, okay?” I demanded. Alicia stared at me, waiting for me to speak, without blinking once.
Just then, I heard their home phone ring, from downstairs.
“You know that I’m madly in love with you, Alicia. I would never, ever hurt you, even if it were to save my own life. When we had sex, I lost control. I hardly remember any of it. I came here to tell you that I think I have a way to get Cecil away from us and out of my head.”
“How?” She asked.
“He’s a ghost. I’m going to put his spirit to rest tonight.” I heard footsteps coming up, and I ran to lock the door.
KNOCK, KNOCK. “Jeremy, you need to come out,” Alicia’s Mom says. “The police are coming to arrest you as we speak.”
“What? Why?” Alicia asked, looking at me.
“Ms. Manning. Jeremy killed Ms. Manning.” Alicia stared at me with shock.
“No, I didn’t!” I screamed, panicking. Of course Alicia wouldn’t believe me now, I mean, I told her that my schizophrenic partner had taken her virginity.
“Multiple people heard a gunshot from throughout the building. As people came to her apartment to check out what had happened, someone was down, next to her body. He screamed, “WE’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE, JEREMY.” meaning that he was involved in the killing.” Alicia’s Mom said. This was not looking good for me, there was no way I could possibly explain it by the time the police showed up. There was no way that I could explain myself to the police. I looked to Alicia, giving her one last chance to be with me.
“Alicia, I didn’t do any of that. You need to come with me. We can be happy together, we can leave our lives, just come with me tonight to put Cecil to rest, and I promise you, we will be happy.”
She looked at me for a long moment, and either I was facing
·         Paranoia: Ideas that people are talking about them; out to get them.
or I was hearing police sirens. I looked at her once again, and she looked in my eyes with an extremely worried face.
“No.” Alicia said. “I don’t believe you. I will not tell the police where you are, but I want no sort of future with you.”
I looked at her, I leaned in to kiss her forehead one last time, opened her window, and jumped out.
I landed in the driveway, and grabbed my bike, my backpack, and my shovel. Down the long road, I could see police cars coming both ways. I drove straight in front of me, going right at the cemetery. I biked as fast as I possibly could to a nearby street, went into a random stranger’s lawn, and hid behind a bush. The police sped by, having no idea where I was.
I stayed behind this bush for a good half hour until the sun was completely down. Cecil sat with me, continuing to ask me, “What are we going to do, what are we going to do?” If my more powerful and smarter alter-ego/ghost friend didn’t know what to do, then how the hell was I supposed to know?
I biked straight at the cemetery, and found a hole in the fence that I used to crawl into before I went into Hell. I sat there during most nights, whenever I missed Cecil. In fact, Alicia had come with me quite a few times.
I walked for just a few seconds, because his headstone was among the edge of the cemetery.
     I sat there; my legs crossed, and looked at his headstone. I looked around me, and Cecil was nowhere to be found.
     “Cecil,” I said, not crying or showing any sort of emotion. “I love you, my friend, but this has gone on for far too long. I don’t mean to put blame on you, but I am wanted for murder. I have ruined all chances with the love of my life, and there is no longer a point to living anymore. By doing what I am about to do, I am hoping that I can finally put your spirit to rest, and hopefully, that may just solve a few of my problems.”
     To add to the drama that I was facing, a thunderstorm erupted, and it began to rain heavily. I grabbed my shovel, and hid my backpack under the tree so the contents would not get wet.
     With the shovel, I began to dig Cecil’s grave. The deeper I dug, the harder the rain fell. The dirt became extremely muddy, and it became harder and harder to dig. After nearly twenty minutes of digging, I struck his grave. I wiped mud away, and opened the coffin.
     I wanted to throw up, seeing the skeleton of my best friend. It smelled awful. I ran back up from the grave, ran into my backpack, grabbed the Paper Airplane book, and ran back to the grave. I kneeled down beside his coffin, and said, “Cecil, I love you, but you have to leave me alone.” I put the book inside, closed it, and ran out. I got my muddy shovel once again, and put as much dirt back into the grave as I could, and left.
·         Confused thinking.
·         Unusual or bizarre ideas or thoughts.
·         Odd behavior or speech.
I grabbed my backpack and left the cemetery by going back under the fence, grabbed my bike, and headed towards the school that I used to attend. I rode around to the back, to the old playground that I had just slept at last night. I went under all the playground equipment, grabbed a blanket from my backpack, and put it on top of me.
Before I slept, I also grabbed a flashlight out of my bag, and began to write Alicia a letter. It wasn’t too long, it was short and sweet. I put it in my bag, and went to sleep.


I woke up just as the sun was rising. I packed my bad, and stared out to the mountains. It was a perfect temperature, and the view was beautiful. The last time I had stared into the sunrise was when I was sleeping in Alicia’s house.
As the sun began to completely rise, I packed my stuff. I was drenched in water from the wet woodchips, and I had mud all over my pants. I had not showered a couple of days before I had left my house as well.
·         Decline in personal hygiene.
From my backpack, I left my blanket, my muddy clothes, and my flashlight behind, so it wasn’t as much of a load. I kept food and water, to keep myself going. I needed to get away from my town, and find a job somewhere else. I’m not quite sure what I was planning, probably something about getting a new name, finding a job, and moving from there.
I had no particular direction as to where I wanted to go. I looked at the mountains, pointed, and thought to myself, “That way.” I grabbed my bike, and started going.
For about an hour of me biking towards the mountains, I felt… Free. Cecil was gone. My parents, gone. My worries, gone. I biked, and kept my water bottle in my hand, taking drinks from time to time. As soon as I reached the first hill to begin going up the mountain, I dropped my bike.
But that wasn’t the only reason I dropped my bike.
There he fucking was, standing there, smiling.
“Goddammit, Cecil.” I said. I walked right past him.
“Jeremy, please. Hear me out. You did kill part of me.” He said.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“There was two of me, Jeremy. There was a happy side of me, and an angry side of me. My spirit was unhappy, probably because you were not able to save my father in the crash. My spirit was the angry side. The Cecil living inside of your brain means no harm whatsoever. You needn’t worry about anything. From here on out, I won’t demand you do things. I won’t take over you. I won’t fuck your girlfriend.”
All of this was too hard to grasp. Cecil was still the little kid inside of my head. I didn’t trust him, and I continued walking. I walked all the way until it began to be dark. Cecil always caught up with me (if he wasn’t already ahead), and he constantly reminded me of the memories we had once shared when he was living.
“Remember when we played in the mud?”
“Remember when we made paper airplanes?”
“Remember when Alicia’s Dad died?”
“Remember when we were dressed as girls for entertainment?”
Multiple cars passed as we sat on the side of the road and watched the sunset. The road we were on had dense forests on both sides. On my right side, across the street, I saw a trail, with a bit of sun at the end, meaning there was a clearing. Maybe it wasn’t as dense as I assumed.
There, under a rock, I left Alicia’s note, which would be waiting for her when they find my body. I walked through the trail, Cecil walking behind me.
“You don’t have to do this, Jeremy. We’ll find a way out of this whole situation. I’ll disappear completely, if that is what you would like.” Cecil said.
We got to the clearing, and there was a huge drop.
My feet hang off of this cliff; dwelling over what has happened is all I can do. The very thought of jumping is becoming more and more justified every moment.
Some moments I’m crying, some moments I’m angry at Cecil, some moments I’m happy that everyone else will be happy when I’m gone.
·         Extreme moodiness.
I’m never going to be alone; Cecil will always be here. I’m never going to be happy; Alicia no longer loves me. As I become drenched in thought, the need to end my life increases. What has happened and what is to come don’t matter anymore, I’ll just become a distant memory.
I close my eyes before I make the final decision, and I think about the events of the past week that have led me to this point.
I look at Cecil, Cecil looks at me.
“Don’t jump, Jeremy. Please don’t.”
I turn around to look into the forest, to see if maybe, just maybe, someone else would stop me. I wish Alicia would jump out of the forest and stop me, or at least jump with me. Or maybe, just maybe, my Mom would come and save the day, just like she did with Cecilia.
No luck.
I put one foot over the edge, and leaned forward.
I fell, and I felt relieved. It would all be over soon.
I turned around in midair, looking back up at the cliff. There Cecil stood, with Alicia, my parents, Cecil’s parents, and everyone else that was close to me. I wiped my eyes, and looked again.
They were gone.


“Hey, you have reached us, sorry we couldn’t get to the phone, please leave us a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Hello, it’s John again. I just wanted to tell you, Jeremy is having a really big fit. His girlfriend (as you may call it) visited just yesterday. He came in today, crying, telling me all about this dream he had of him coming out of this mental institution, and trying to live life happily with Alicia. I am not happy to tell you this, but I believe that we need to keep Jeremy here a bit longer. He is not ready to face the real world again just yet.”
·         Confusion; Believing televisions and dreams are reality.