Fallen.
This deserves a place here, even with the mixed feelings I have about it. Winning places does nothing for me, but just as a snapshot of some random thoughts of mine in the 8th make it worthwhile. Was it a premonition? or a shot in the dark. Call it what you may.
____________________________________________________________
He was falling in to the deapths of eternity, the blackness consumed him, he had no identity, no face. He was just a body falling into space. Black depths was all he could see, not a ray of light to guide him and give him hope. He felt himself rising out of the body. No longer a part of the flesh and blood, and he felt free. But mixed with that freedom he felt fear. Not just any fear. It was a gut wrenching fear. It made him break out into a cold sweat. He could not define it. He now had no skin but felt it crawl.
He saw the body that was once his screaming, nerve shattering screams. He couldn't stand them. They reached the very depths of his being. Slowly he felt suffocated, something was strangling him. He felt himself drawn into his former body. He felt the freedom slip from his hiands. The freedom was gone but not the fear, if anything it intensified. It took over his being, it swallowed him into its envelope of blackness. He felt the hope drain out of his soul. He was one with his body.
Suddenly he awoke, gagging on his own vomit. The sheets were drenched with his sweat. His knuckles were white because he was clutching the sheets so hard. His nails had drawn blood. His face was beyond pale and had a deathly palor to it, and he was sickened to the soul. He glanced at the woman by his side and he despised her. Despised her and all she stood for, the past two years of his life. He took one look at the body beneath the sheets and a wave of anager swept through him. When it passed he felt nauseous. He would have throttled her if the very thought of touching her didn't make his skin crawl. He wondered he had found attractive in her, and the many others before her. Last night she had looked enticing, enchanting and alluring in her black sequined gown which shimmered in the moonlight and displayed rather than covered anything. This morning lying naked between the sheets her skin looked sallow, her face devoid of makeup seemed plain, even downright ugly and lying there she looked like the wanton whore she was.
He decieved himself that it was the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream that had made him take her to his bed, but he knew better. He realized that he had fallen all the way to the bottom. Not physically- yet, but mentally, morally, ethically and every other way possible. He realized that it was only because of his former status and money that people tolerated him. With this realization he hated himself more than he had hated any other thing in his life. He was filled with a need to run and hide himself. He pulled out his wallet to pay the woman and the sight of the money nauseated him to such an extent that he threw the wallet on the bed and ran. He ran out of the room, stockinged feet, unbuttond shirt and touseled hair. He didn't notice the startled stares of recognitionof the reception clerk. He ran out into the parking lot, jumped into his car and stepped on the accelerator. He drove blindly, going through the motions of driving almost mechanically. He turned off the the highway and stopped the car. Staring blankly out the window, a tear rolled down his cheek. solitary at first, but soon joined by a few more until it was a flood.
He sat alone and wept. He wept for his former life, for all the fame and accolades, he wept for all that was once his, he wept at his fall into the darkness, for all that was lost and above all he wept for the miserable creature he had become. What he had done to himself. Wallowing in his self pity he unconsciously reached for the bottles under his seat. He removed the first one that came to hand and drank. The rest of the day amalgamated into one long, inerirating, intoxicated stupor. All he knew was that he had to keep his lips pressed around the neck of the bottle and let the fiery liquid heal his sorrows. By the time evening came he had drunk his way through six bottles. Scotch, rum, burbon, all stained his shirt and a few drops dripped from each bottle onto the seat and the floor of the car.
The seventh and last bottle dangled from his hand. The whole carstunk like a distillery, and his shirt was drenched from the alcohol which dribbled from his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot. He was drunk as never before in his life before. As he reached for the keys his hand shook like a leaf in the wind.
It was a miracle that he managed to stay on the road. Eyeing the line of women that lined the street. He knew that if he stopped now he would be finished. All hope for a new life would dissappear. He pused this thought aside as stripping the last vestige of honour and pride from his soul, and he stopped to pick up a woman who caught his eye.
____________________________________________________________
He was falling in to the deapths of eternity, the blackness consumed him, he had no identity, no face. He was just a body falling into space. Black depths was all he could see, not a ray of light to guide him and give him hope. He felt himself rising out of the body. No longer a part of the flesh and blood, and he felt free. But mixed with that freedom he felt fear. Not just any fear. It was a gut wrenching fear. It made him break out into a cold sweat. He could not define it. He now had no skin but felt it crawl.
He saw the body that was once his screaming, nerve shattering screams. He couldn't stand them. They reached the very depths of his being. Slowly he felt suffocated, something was strangling him. He felt himself drawn into his former body. He felt the freedom slip from his hiands. The freedom was gone but not the fear, if anything it intensified. It took over his being, it swallowed him into its envelope of blackness. He felt the hope drain out of his soul. He was one with his body.
Suddenly he awoke, gagging on his own vomit. The sheets were drenched with his sweat. His knuckles were white because he was clutching the sheets so hard. His nails had drawn blood. His face was beyond pale and had a deathly palor to it, and he was sickened to the soul. He glanced at the woman by his side and he despised her. Despised her and all she stood for, the past two years of his life. He took one look at the body beneath the sheets and a wave of anager swept through him. When it passed he felt nauseous. He would have throttled her if the very thought of touching her didn't make his skin crawl. He wondered he had found attractive in her, and the many others before her. Last night she had looked enticing, enchanting and alluring in her black sequined gown which shimmered in the moonlight and displayed rather than covered anything. This morning lying naked between the sheets her skin looked sallow, her face devoid of makeup seemed plain, even downright ugly and lying there she looked like the wanton whore she was.
He decieved himself that it was the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream that had made him take her to his bed, but he knew better. He realized that he had fallen all the way to the bottom. Not physically- yet, but mentally, morally, ethically and every other way possible. He realized that it was only because of his former status and money that people tolerated him. With this realization he hated himself more than he had hated any other thing in his life. He was filled with a need to run and hide himself. He pulled out his wallet to pay the woman and the sight of the money nauseated him to such an extent that he threw the wallet on the bed and ran. He ran out of the room, stockinged feet, unbuttond shirt and touseled hair. He didn't notice the startled stares of recognitionof the reception clerk. He ran out into the parking lot, jumped into his car and stepped on the accelerator. He drove blindly, going through the motions of driving almost mechanically. He turned off the the highway and stopped the car. Staring blankly out the window, a tear rolled down his cheek. solitary at first, but soon joined by a few more until it was a flood.
He sat alone and wept. He wept for his former life, for all the fame and accolades, he wept for all that was once his, he wept at his fall into the darkness, for all that was lost and above all he wept for the miserable creature he had become. What he had done to himself. Wallowing in his self pity he unconsciously reached for the bottles under his seat. He removed the first one that came to hand and drank. The rest of the day amalgamated into one long, inerirating, intoxicated stupor. All he knew was that he had to keep his lips pressed around the neck of the bottle and let the fiery liquid heal his sorrows. By the time evening came he had drunk his way through six bottles. Scotch, rum, burbon, all stained his shirt and a few drops dripped from each bottle onto the seat and the floor of the car.
The seventh and last bottle dangled from his hand. The whole carstunk like a distillery, and his shirt was drenched from the alcohol which dribbled from his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot. He was drunk as never before in his life before. As he reached for the keys his hand shook like a leaf in the wind.
It was a miracle that he managed to stay on the road. Eyeing the line of women that lined the street. He knew that if he stopped now he would be finished. All hope for a new life would dissappear. He pused this thought aside as stripping the last vestige of honour and pride from his soul, and he stopped to pick up a woman who caught his eye.
posted by Mane at 6:41 AM
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