Young Writers Society

027. irony Heimdalsgate Like A Promethean Curse - of Montreal

The chemicals rush through my veins, spreading life, spreading death. Dizzying waves of contradictions make me lose sight of what I need to remember. I can stare at the wall for eighteen hours, as if the most vivid movie was on, listen as if the richest symphony was playing.

When I get up, the world spins. It takes all my effort not to fall from it. When things begin to straighten out a little, I start walking. My head seems close to falling off when I look down at my body. I’m only wearing a pair of boxers. My stomach is flat, my ribs easy to count after a week of shooting up.

Am I hungry? Is that what this is? I don’t know. I can’t tell the difference between these sensations. How long has it been since I had a proper meal? The night you left me. Dinner. “Get your fucking act together and I’ll be back. I can’t be your nurse.”

You’d think that’d make me stop, right? Never. You were the one thing that kept me lucid. Now you’re gone, I float high high higher. Why stay within consciousness? I need to get rid of the pain. Can’t let it get in. In past the barriers, under my ribs, hit the heart. Death. Can’t let it happen. No.

How long can I keep going before the drugs kill me? It can only take so much time.

My arms are pitted and puckered, a million holes for a million occasions of rapture. That shudder, the cold spreading over my flesh, the heightening sense of gone. Off the planet, back when I fall, fall when I’m dead. Maybe if you did come back to me. You won’t, I know. “I can’t bear to look after you anymore. We’ll both be broke if I stay any longer. Ask for my help. I’ll give it. I’ll give anything, as long as you won’t go injecting or snorting it.”

You know I can’t. I’ve never been one to lurk over the past. I throw myself into now without regard for what makes me act like this. It’s weird. Whenever I use, I seem to get this heightened awareness, even as it takes me off the planet. Like I could see anything, if only I could open my eyes. You understand, right? I need you to understand.

The water tastes bitter. Maybe it’s always been this way. I’ve changed. Of course I have. That’s just human nature. If we didn’t change, how would we overcome? I don’t think I will, though. Overcome, I mean. I’m nothing without my drugs and my writing. And you. Nothing without you.

I’m repeating myself. I think? This happens all the time. I forget what’s been said and just speak in the moment. And now, right in this moment, I want you to be here.

I want nothing else in this world more.

Except to go away again. I lose the bags in my hiding places. Too good, I suppose, when I forget where they are.

Still.

We’ll meet again.

I’ll get clean. Someday.

050. muse Triphallus, to Punctuate! - of Montreal

The man walks down the street, clutching his trench coat to himself as a low breeze swirls through the gutters. He holds a folder under his arm and his pace is fast.

An office building looms. When it comes into full view, he sighs and slows his pace, dragging his feet. Even so, he’s still inside its doors, inside its elevator, inside his publisher’s office.

“Well?” Marcus asks. Tiny eyes squint from behind his glasses. The chair groans as he leans back. “What brilliance have you got for me this time?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it brilliant.” He takes the folder and tosses it down on the desk. As Marcus opens it and leafs through, he sits in the seat opposite. The silence stretches, daring someone to break its weakening veneer. “Well?”

“What the fuck is this?”

“What do you mean? It’s what you asked for. It’s the best thing I’ve done yet, I think.”

“I can’t even understand what it says! It’s incoherent garbage. How am I supposed to publish something like this? What? Haven’t you got anything to say for yourself? Guess you know there’s no way to defend it, then.”

His head slumps. “Look, Marc, I’m sorry. I’ve been trying, but I’ve been going through a lot of shit lately.”

“Yeah. So I heard.”

“What?”

“You get in the gossip columns. You’re up in that league now. I’ve heard about your scores. You need to break the habit, if this is what writing high does to you.”

He stands and begins pacing the room. “It’s not just that. It’s her. She left me, and I’m still trying to get back onto my feet. She’s what I need to write, she always was. Something in her inspired me, and I could come out with whatever you needed easy. I bet if I had her back, I could have a book to you in two months.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have her back. You don’t have anyone. You’re going to have to learn to get on with things without relying on other people, because if you go on like this, no one’s going to come near you.”

He rolls his eyes. “She wouldn’t have left if it wasn’t for her own precious reputation. Bitch. I know that’s what it was. She said she loved me, but she was more worried about what this would do for her career. You know, it’s pretty easy to sink an actress when she’s on her way up. So she’s gone.”

“Look, I don’t want to hear it. I’m not here to be your best friend. I’ve got your interests at heart, but I’ve got my wallet just as high a priority. Okay? So go home, and get onto something decent, or you’ll be cut.”

“Fine. I suppose I should happy for her success. I just wish it was me she came home to though. She’s probably moved on already.”

“Hey.”

“I know. See you, Marcus.”

“Two weeks, you show me a preview. Five chapters, they don’t have to be polished, but good. And you know what you have to do, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to get clean. For her. And for my career.”

He walks from the room and Marcus groans, putting his head in his hands.

002. catharsis Truce - The Dresden Dolls

The division of this city is a difficult one. We found each other going to the same places. And after we lost each other, we still saw each other almost every day. That’s after I managed to pull myself together. The last bag was gone, and I didn’t go back to buy more.

For six days after that, I stayed on my couch. When I tried to have a bath on the fourth, I started to seize up. Eighteen hours later, I woke up in the freezing water. I went back to the couch, still unable to bear the smell of my room, got dressed and sat the worst of it out.

My hands still shake. I feel the cravings. Sometimes, I wake up without knowing I’ve slept, hours or a whole day missing. I can’t go to the hospital. They’ll know. They’ll call the cops. So I wait it out. Eventually, I’ll find myself on the same planet as everyone else. I just have to wait for that barrier to break.

Until then. I’ll wander the streets. I’ll stare at people and wait for them to see me. Most of the time, I keep my head down and my hands in my pockets. It’s a long road to getting better, and I don’t want to burden anyone else with my problems. No, I’ll wait for the day I’m through that barrier, and then I’ll find them again.

“Hi.”

“Hey. How’ve you been?”

“I’m good. I’m off the drugs now.”

“Really? You don’t look any better. In fact, you look worse.”

“Yeah, that’d be the withdrawals. Plus, I got rid of my mirror. I didn’t want to look at myself anymore. It’s true, you know. What they say. You have to get worse before you can get better.”

“I guess so. And you wouldn’t believe how proud I am of you. Maybe soon, you’ll be back on your feet completely. Have you thought about looking for a practical job?”

“Hey, that’s not fair. I’ve been trying to keep up with my deadlines. Sometimes it’s hard, though. It’s like I can’t work anymore, since you left.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with me. You wrote before I came along.”

“Not professionally. I landed my first contract less than a month after we got together. Now, every time I try to do anything, it’s like there’s a – a barrier, I suppose. Everything I do comes out through a shit filter. But my imminent bankruptness aside, how’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know, I’ve been working. Doing some charity work and – been on a few dates.”

“Oh?”

“You’d like him. His name’s Jerry, and he’s-”

“Not a drug addict. Yeah.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“It’s what you were thinking, though.”

“I hope it’s the withdrawals that make you such an asshole.”

“Of course. Everything’s just worse than it is at the moment.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“You try getting over an addiction. It’ll make sense then. Anyway, I’d better get going. I’m sure you’re on your way to meet Gary.”

“Jerry. You can be such a fucking wanker sometimes.”

“But you still love me.”

“I – shut up. See you.”

“Bye.”

...okay, maybe I have the resolve of a – of a drug addict, I guess. But you can’t go blaming me for that, can you? No, I can’t resist rubbing their faces in it. It makes me feel better, for some reason. If I have to feel like shit, they should too, right? Maybe they’ll understand what I’m going through then.

But now, I’ll divide this city in two to spare her. She’s suffered enough because of me. Then again, that means that I’ll have to stay on the shadier parts of town. The parts where the whores solicit, and the gangsters shoot. And the dealers deal.

045. illusion Dream On - Catatonia

It didn’t work.

I tried to stay away from them. I tried to avoid them. You wouldn’t believe how I tried. It didn’t work and now I’m stuck back in this pit and I’m digging at the walls and I’m screaming but there’s no one out there who can help me. Who would help me.

Maybe they would if I called. I don’t need them but I do, more than anything. The pit only gets deeper as I keep taking and taking, and my deadline passed two weeks ago but it doesn’t matter because the phone’s been disconnected. They can’t reach me.

People come to the door sometimes. I don’t answer them. Why should I? They wouldn’t talk to me when I was bad before. They don’t want to see me now. I’ve been bad, and this is my punishment. I’ll rot right into Hell, and no one will remember me.

When I walk down the street, I don’t see you. I don’t see anyone anymore. I thought I was behind a barrier last time. At least I could see then. Now I’m blind to everyone around me. Maybe they do want to help, and I can’t see them. Everything’s too dizzy for me to tell. The hole is dark; night has fallen, and it’s raining. The sides are slippery.

I’ll never pull myself out.

Sometimes I wonder what’s real. There isn’t really a dead woman in the bath, I know. I watch too many movies. But things happen, small things, when I sleep. I dream that I went to the shop and talked to a girl. She was a nice girl, but I’m scared to go back because she might not remember me. Or exist. So, I won’t be going back there, if I ever went in the first place.

There is one way out of this, I think. If you come back. If you don’t, I’m going to be buried in this hole. I know that sounds pathetic. And it is. Because how do I know you’ll even be able to help? I don’t.

In fact, I think I might be too far gone already. It might be a good thing. It’s not like I do anything anymore, see anyone, exist for a reason.

I wonder if I would die if I jumped from this building.

003. anagnorisis Adventures in Solitude - The New Pornographers

The two of them never realised the depth of their love for each other. Each mythologised the other to the point they didn’t know how to truly express their feelings anymore. That’s what drove them apart, and the desire to know why it was that they had broken was the reason they came back together again.

She had her moment of realisation as she was pouring a coffee for her mother. The boiled water was flowing from the kettle and into the cup. She froze as a memory of him hit her, followed by an image of him jumping from a building, or throwing himself in front of a car. Or continuing as he was, because she knew that he couldn’t keep going forever.

The water trickled to a halt as the woman paused. Her mother took hold of her arm, careful not to shake her for fear of being burned. She called her daughter’s name several times, but she didn’t answer. She set the kettle down on the table with a thud and the liquid in the unstirred drinks swirled around the edges of the cup.

Despite her mother calling her, she ran from her house, grabbing a coat from the couch and pulling it on as she went through the living room.

His house wasn’t far away, which was lucky for them both. For at the very moment she was weaving in and out of traffic, he was walking up the steps to the roof of his apartment building. They were both contemplating the fragility of life, and wondering how much longer they would both live for. He, however, was wondering if his skull would crack when he hit the ground.

He moved slowly, as if he knew that she would be with him soon. He had always held the view that they held a special bond, although he didn’t know what that bond was. It was a mystery, something not to be questioned. After all, the answers to some mysteries aren’t things we want to hear. For example, how can people survive so long on the edge?

She read his note and screamed his name. Three floors above, he paused, as if he could hear her. This was a ridiculous idea, of course. Her voice couldn’t have carried so far.

In her heart, she thought he was already dead. Even so, she raced to the elevator, slapping her hands against her legs while she waited for it to reach the highest floor. When it did, she raced up the staircase and shoved the door open.

The sunshine blinded her for a second, and she was brought back to reality. Until that moment, for all that panic, nothing had seemed quite real. And then came her second realisation: that he needed her, that he couldn’t live without her.

He was standing at the edge of the building, bending his knees to look over it. While he had his hands clinging to the edge of it, she crept up behind him and grabbed him, pulling him so the two of them rolled away from the edge.

She screamed at him for a long time, until he started crying. She cried as well and the two clung to each other and said they’d love each other forever and always be together. They both knew that the promise could and might be broken one day, and that his guarantee that he’d change might come to nothing, but they were content to discover each other again. Only with a new beginning could they truly discover the depths of their love.

So, this is a pretty experimental thing. I was playing around with narration and dialogue, trying to find something new for me. Thanks for anything you can help out with. ^^