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Blue mohawk down the center, sides dyed green. She wore combat boots with baggy pants and a crass t-shirt, no bra. All in the same breath, she informed me that she was an anarchist, wanted roller skates for Christmas, and was good enough at embroidery to charge for her services.
Obviously, I was smitten.
We were watching Dead Poet Society with a group of friends, pointing out all the queer-coding within film. I said something half funny, and from across the room, she looked at me with a grin and wrinkled her nose, not outright laughing, but taunting. I wanted her to keep looking at me like that, because in that instant, she was the most beautiful person I’d ever met. But the moment ended, and she turned back to the movie.
A few nights later we (the same friend group) were watching Love, Simon, critiquing the straight characters. I’d taken the worst seat in the room, and she ran over.
“Why don’t you go take my spot on the other couch?” she said. “I can sit here.” She was so close, grinning at me again.
I decided to be brave. “Maybe I’d rather cuddle?” I tried to sound more playful than flirtatious, bouncing my shoulder against hers. A few minutes later she got up and moved back to the other couch. I don’t think she knows I’m not straight.
People filed out after the movie ended, but we and two others stayed. It was snowing outside, so we all pressed our faces to the window.
“Let’s go play in the snow,” she announced.
The two others yawned and said they didn’t want to get their PJ’s wet. I didn’t want to go out in the cold, either, but I said I’d go if she did.
We slipped outside, wearing nothing but flannel and jeans, our skin turning red against the flurries. She tossed snowballs at the building behind us, trying to hit certain windows or beams.
I wrapped my arms around myself and pretended not to look at her.
When our hands were frozen numb, we shuffled inside to sit near the fireplace in the lobby. I propped my feet up near the warmth, and she pressed her fingers to the glass between her and the fire, giggling at the sound of her sizzling flesh.
She told me she had work early in the morning and shouldn’t stay up too late. I told her it was already 1 a.m.—what difference would another hour make? But she laughed off that suggestion.
As she made her way toward the elevator, she held the door open questioningly, but I smiled and motioned toward the stairs. I live a few floors lower than her. She shrugged and let the doors slide shut between us.
I wish I was more of an anarchist.
It's disgusting, really, the way people disguise themselves to become somebody, someone that's worth existing, but what can I say when I do the same? After all, it's fun to wear a new mask every day, not knowing which will be the last. I don't know how to properly feel any emotion anymore, I just discard the emotions once I'm done using them and use it again when needed to, like masks. Some people may call me inhuman but wouldn't life be so boring if everything just goes according to plan? That's why I left that world behind and entered this complete wasteland as it's much more intriguing to navigate and understand.
In this world, life would be so dull without some blood, without bleeding, without that sickly metallic scent, without someone screaming in agony and torture. Nauseating? More like exhilarating isn't it? If there is one thing that I've learnt in this world, a heart without emotion and without devotion, is the only one that's free, it's just much easier to fake something happy and pretend that everything is fine.
The world I know is covered in lies and it seems that there is no longer blue in my sky. I know nobody will forgive my blackened sky full of lies but what can I do when everything I know is ravaged? When my world has gone askew? It's too late to turn back now, not when everything I used to know, what I used to call home is burning with the fire of all the sins I have committed. But I feel no guilt, no remorse, just the thrill of it all.
Houses are without rooms,
Brides without grooms,
Plants with open roots,
People travelling on foot,
No child in school,
Formal education thrown into the pool,
Everything is on fire,
Our music from machine gun fire,
Everyone seems mute,
People questing an escape route.
No one is sure of the next hour
But everyone desires a tomb decorated with flower,
Peace is a thing of the past,
Every hour is announced by bomb blast,
Roads are beautified with tiles
Of dead bodies laid in piles.
Some as a result of hunger,
Others, victims of the war’s anger.
I take a deep breath in, then I let it out. I open my eyes and let them stare. At. Everything.
The overworked, self-deprived dogwalker but controlled by five chihuahuas and a great dane.
The old man reading a newspaper that was published last month.
The child begging his mother to let him see that R-rated movie she insists is ‘too scary’ for him.
The cars zipping along in the paved streets with a singular pothole on the left lane that’s so big and infamous for causing accidents the locals have ironically named it ‘Little Denny’.
I take it all in with these purple-grey irses of mine. Heterochromia is a strange thing.
Everyone’s doing their own thing, without regard to the strangers around them.
Across the street, the great dane sprints off into the middle of the street, dragging the poor dog walker behind him. She digs her feet into the pavement, but they just slide across. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees another zipping car.
And the car sees her. Startled, the driver makes a sharp swerve into the left hand lane. It runs over ‘Little Denny’ and the driver loses control. The car is heading straight for the old man when the child grabs his wrinkled hand and yanks him out of the way. As the car crashes forward, the only thing it hits is the newspaper left.
At this moment, the city stops, but only for a brief second. Everything goes silent, but only for a brief second. Nobody is critically hurt. They take a deep breath in for relief, then let it out. They’ll all staring at the scene before them. But only for a brief second.
Then everyone does whatever they’ve been doing before. Living their lives without regards to the strangers. Making any moves they feel like, when they feel like it. It’s all so… chaotic.
And of course, I’m still here. I see everything. With. Theses. Eyes.
They’re not a soft blend, but a crooked, ugly one. If you were to look into my eyes, you would not want to stare at it for very long. You’d look away.
Life’s not so perfect like a part of sparkling blue eyes. It’s the chaos of a crook, ugly line. The chaos of an almost car accident.
Sparks flew from her fingertips, casting her surroundings into a ferocious, fiery glow. Screams echoed through the air as flames spilled from the alley and into the rest of the city, licking at the backs of people’s heels and devouring those who tripped. Chaos descended over the town like a fire blanket, choking off the embers of life until they feebly spluttered out.
The woman smiled, thrusting her hands forward again as she strode out of the alley, sending more flames spilling from her palms and another chorus of screams into the air. Those directly in the fire’s path were burnt to a crisp upon impact, only experiencing moments of pure agony before their lives were claimed by the inferno. Many tried to escape but few actually did, fleeing into the surrounding forest with cries of terror. Whereas this would normally bother the woman, she knew the escaped people wouldn’t last long in a forest infested by vicious predators and poisonous plants that they would surely try to eat for food. So she didn’t let it bother her, instead focusing her energy on reaping destruction upon the town, just as she was taught.
It wasn’t long before the pleading wails and terrified shrieks petered out, the remaining sobs drowned out by the crackling of the burning buildings. The town was eerily beautiful, bathed in an orange glow that the woman couldn’t help but smile at. With a satisfied sigh, she turned on the ball of her heel and exited the town in the exact same way she came; suddenly, and with a smirk on her lips.
Ace hefted a brick through the Starbucks window with a guttural yawp. "Down with corpocracy!" Adolescent anarchists around him slapped him on the back and hooted their solidarity and approval.
Four months later, Ace was hella thirsty and tired of waiting for his friend to get off work so he could bum a ride. The only place open within walking distance was that perverse purveyor of premium percolated drinks.
He'd wisely worn a ski mask that night so he couldn't be identified on Big Coffee's security video. Sheepishly, Ace walked through the front door, checking quickly and irrationally to see if any trace of glass remained sparkling on the sidewalk.
When the barista asked his name, he defiantly said, "Anarchy." He got the steaming beverage, and the cup had "Anne" scribbled on it with a smiley face. Damn them and their delicious Caramel Brulee Latte!
Nothing was right.
Nothing was truly wrong, either, but that doesn't change my reaction.
The nonsense in by brain slowly leaped into the outside world, every time I said a word.
I am crazy.
I am syco.
And one day, my insanity may destroy something. But for now, the mild choas of my mind only effects me. Normally.
Bill Nut was nothing extraordinary. He lived in Community 7H, worked, ate, and slept. That’s all there is to life in the communities, besides listening to the birds hum in the mornings, and playing Sunday Night cards. Almost no one in the community knew what life was like long ago, which was essentially a world with color, compared to a world without. Technology advancements were centered toward the capital, and each community was at least a century behind in technology, which basically secured the Prime Lord’s power. Both Bill, and his close friend Jeff, both dreamed of a free place with unartificial social interaction, no curfews, no harsh laws, and the freedom to say, think, and write anything down. However, they had no way of knowing that about each other. Infact, more than 99.9% of the population shared these same thoughts, without realizing, that these thoughts were shared among the people. Dreams were the last piece of joy that was still left in life, for the people of the community. It is the only thing that fuels people to live. To think that that freedom was about to go too, would be as unimaginable as riding golden dragons on New Year's Day. Suddenly, a cage fell on top Bill, out of the sky, and the latch closed. He closed his eyes, and 10 seconds later, he found himself in a deep chamber, filled with feelings of darkness and desperation. The latch opened, and a tall, old man started to speak. “In this place, you have been selected, to fulfill the mighty liberty that is vital for the prosperity of the peoples. The extent of hardships, caused by the government is redundant, and it is now your obligation to reform. The tasks you will perform, undermining the government, will be difficult, in the tense of mental exhaustion. This chamber you are now in, is free of thick air, meaning you can say and write anything you want. However, you have not long before the thick air notices your disappearance. Stomp your foot 4 times to leave this place whenever you want. Your first task is to find the rest of your family, and your friend Jeff, and bring them here.” I began to wonder, “why would this person simply tell me to get my parents and family.” That’s when I knew… Abruptly, the latch of my cage closed, and I felt the soothing, warming breeze fade behind me, and was replaced by unforgiving winds, and the feelings of death, and betrayal. When my latch opened, I stepped out into the trees of the forest. Running over to the fields, the cage disappeared, and everything looked the exact same as when I left. There was only one difference. However, this single difference gave me the single most agonizing distress one has ever had to deal with. W h a t T h e H e l l H a p p e n e d?
My frustration bubbles like magma, and I want to let it burn all things in sight. I want to explode like a long-dormant volcano. I want to feel the destruction. I want to be the reason for chaos.
And then I look away, and I remember myself.
I leave the mirror in the ashes, and walk away, happy to say farewell.