Inhale. The smoke bellowed inwards filling his lungs with a certain pleasure. Exhale. Breathing it out, the harsh white smoke left a tangy discernible taste in his mouth. Inhale. The cycle continues. Exhale. Fumbling around his jacket pocket he tries to pick out another cigarette, coming out empty he silently cursed the gods for his misfortune.
The rain pelted downwards onto the cold slabs of chiseled stone walkways. He walked a black umbrella in hand, the frivolous rain ricocheted like bullets off its sleek exterior. He had a destination in mind, but he didn't care how he got there. Aimless shuffles towards an empty goal. Feet tracing the slippery concrete, small pebbles grinding the soles of his shoes.
After what seemed like a millenia, his gaze caught a neon light. The Glyph he didn't know why he had accepted to come here. To meet a few friends for drinks. Just what I need a few more drinks. Being a college dropout, his only major had been drinking away the melancholy that swelled weighing him down at every step.
With every lonesome stride, he inched closer, step by step, the steady even beat of his heart, they all climaxed as his hands touched the smooth glass exterior of the door. The noises from inside made him want to turn. Hushed voices muttered under their breaths, only they wished they couldn't be heard. Yet he heard it all, at the same time he didn't.
Pushing against the door, the bells hanging limply on the frames of the push bar ringed a soft sound into his ears. The songs of broken men came after. A karaoke bar wasn't his forte but he knew why they had chosen this spot.
The dreams in which I'm dying, are the best I've ever had, Mad world - Curt Smith, the lyric fit well. The song that filled the room made him snicker humorously. He had forgotten what it was like to dream. When you have insomnia, you're never actually awake, but you're never truly asleep either. It's like looking away from the clock only to turn back after a few seconds to find out you've lost two hours of your life. What a pitiful existence that is.
"Hey. Marcus." He heard a hushed voice whisper to him, beckoning him like a deranged dog ready for the slaughter.
"We are over here." And there it continued making him wish he had decided to go and cave his head in at the door, leaving himself bleeding on the side walk
"I think he's brain dead. Hey ass hat." The insult made him jerk his head in the direction of the voices.
"Guys shut up!" Another voice one he was much fonder off, finally spoke up, freeing him from further ridicule and torment.
Walking towards the group of people he had wished he had dressed nicer. Wearing a simple shirt covered by a used grease ridden hoodie didn't exactly scream quality man to the ladies, and his torn black jeans furthered the belief that he didn't want to care. His hair had been the only thing that appeared to be taken care off, it was short and gelled neatly spiking upwards at the front.
"Hey." Sitting down he looked across the faces of his former comrades from his alma mata. The leader of the self proclaimed wolf pack, Hunter had shown up as his usual self, he was of course much handsomer than Marcus, his hair looked better, he dressed better, he was better in every way. He was an entire ocean of natural talent able to pick up on anything he wanted. Yet Marcus wasn't jealous, because he knew that his parents had regretted their decision to not get the abortion.
On his left sat another guy. He appeared overwhelmed by the presence sitting beside him. Marcus couldn't blame him, it's difficult being next to someone as popular and powerful as Hunter. He quietly nursed the beer because they both knew that drinking wasn't his thing. This guy was named Mitch he was the kind of guy to help you plant a gun on the unarmed intruder you just shot.
"It's good to see you again Mitch." Marcus probed him he knew had already anticipated the reaction he would get, something that would both be awkward and want him to tear his eyes out with ice cream cones.
"Yea hey Marcus." He began to sweat under the pressure, Marcus waited for Mitch to crack in his awkwardness he would always resort to one thing to break the ice.
"When a pig has an orgasm it lasts thirty minutes." He looked away sheepishly a bright red blush formed on his now flushed cheeks. Marcus rolled his eyes.
The last man standing was a much more impish looking guy. Edgar was his name. He was the kind of guy you would want to be abandoned on an island with. Because after a few days of him entertaining you by talking your ears off you wouldn't feel guilty about eating him. Otherwise he was smaller than most people while retaining a decent enough build he wore a strange set of horn rimmed glasses.
The last of them all was a girl named Caitlin. She was about the only person at the table he could stand to be with longer than five minutes. Lets be honest she was the only reason he had come here tonight. It was probably for her glistening red hair, her affectionate and tender smile or her otherwise more or less caring attitude.
"I think you know why we asked to meet you here." Caitlin asked tentatively, her voice soothed him by the tiniest fraction, but he didn't want to share even with her.
"How about this. We don't talk just drink. You guys can be me for a night" Marcus flagged down a waitress with one simple gesture a fresh pitcher was placed moments later at the center of the table.
One glass. Two glasses. Three glasses. As the unmeasurable volume of alcohol that had left their table and entered their systems began to rapidly intoxicate them, they left the bar, wandering, stumbling, shuffling like zombies out into the open streets of Manhattan. The streets always looked different this way. The flashing lights from the cars, turned into a thousand suns racing across the fabric of space. Waiting in the taxi, it followed the neon signs.
The skyscrapers of New York pulsated, digitizing and reforming creating new shapes. As it mutated, so did the people. As the taxi passed the pedestrians he could swear some of them were blue. The taxi jerked, he felt his stomach doing somersaults as it seemed to 'take' off. Scratch that he knew this thing had taken off. Looking out the window he saw the street but it was miles below them. He knew he was drunk, but looking at this made his head do 360 degree double take.
"Any of you see this." He pointed a drunken finger to a frost stained window, to the streets below and the cars that flew beside them.
"You must have drunken… Ireland." Edgar being the classic stereotypical drunk idiot could barely even slur the sentence together.
"You're jus' seeing thing." Hunter giggled from the front seat, the bourbons vapors that seeped from his mouth hole disturbed the driver and everyone else in the taxi.
"All I see are idiots who had way too much." Caitlin broke down into hysterical fit of nonsense laughter.
"Please stop. I hate you all." Mitchell groaned placing his heads to his temples trying to rub out the imminent hangover.
They continued to fly in utter silence. Continuing to look out the window, he had wished this wasn't just a hallucination, a play on his fickle mind. Its Real something told him, he wanted to believe it. It was so beautiful, the sky had changed from a dreary New York black with the occasional plane, to a dazzling carona with clouds of red and stars that shined brighter than the sun. He had wished this was real. A change of place to somewhere he felt he truly belonged. Coming to a stop, the four had left the taxi in an orderly fashion, leaving Marcus to pay the man.
"It isn't a dream you know." The taxi driver turned around and Marcus' jaw dropped off its hinges. Staring at the creature that had flown them here, the first things he noticed were the mandibles around its mouth that caused his voice to create flanging effect. Behind his apparently male head were a crest of horns. Purple paint covered its dark carapace forming three lines, one under its right eye that formed a sharp corner turning towards its lower cheek, two smaller vertical lines within the larger one.
We're just ordinary people
"I… What..." If he wasn't drunk he would have bombarded the strange creature with an armada of questions that would blow the US navy away. This just made the foreign being chortle.
"Get some sleep everything will make sense later. I'll be here to pick you up tomorrow." The creature turned away adjusting the rear view mirror to get a look at the traffic behind him.
"Don't you…" Marcus tried but as he spoke he felt the bile rise up burning his throat.
"What?"
"Money!" The sickly swirl that emanated from his mouth as he unloaded the contents of his stomach all over the seat in front of him made the driver shudder, avoiding eye contact with the pile of sick that sizzled next to him.
"Your money's useless. Now get going." He pressed a button, and the door beside him opened ejecting Marcus onto the floor.
Stumbling to his feet. A careful hand was placed on his shoulder helping him rise to his feet. As the taxi whizzed off, Marcus looked at the thing controlling the helm. The aliens form shimmered and he became an ordinary person, he gave Marcus a subtle wink and everything plummeted. The sky was set ablaze evaporating the brilliant starry sky replacing it with its original ordinary existence. Cars fell from the sky landing on neatly paved roads as if nothing had been different. The layers that had wrapped around the buildings turning them into technological marvels, vibrating replacing itself with the boring buildings of old.
"Lets go." Caitlin tugged at him carrying him into the unknown. His eyes had been closed. Even attempting to open them made the faintest of lights become blinding orbs. Once inside he was thrown on to a different surface. The lights faded and darkness had become him. Sleep was a forgotten concept, a plan to create a place where he was safe was a strange thing, but whenever you feel safest is often the times you're in the most danger.
An unwelcoming sound beating the air. Whipping it with wings of steel. It provided a lofty cool breeze, a ceiling fan. It reeked of alcohol, cigarettes and melancholy. Perfect someone had brought him to his apartment. He recognized the texture of the itchy bed he called his own. He felt the clang of bottles as his leg stretched. It one slow motion he pushed the long spiky black hair away from his eyes. His brow furrowed as they adjusted to the brightness. The window was open, yet their was no sound of cars, the yelling and screaming of New York's 'friendly denizens', no car horns beeping furiously and the congregation of vehicles staking at the streets. However he felt a light soothing breeze wisp its way into the room. The air tasted different, it had the usual taint of bourbon vapors, yet it was so much fresher. Groaning into a sitting position a sensation of overwhelming sickness rejuvenated him. The lovely feelings of a black out hang over. He rummaged through bed side table. Looking for the cure. His finger touched its glass exterior while another felt the smooth texture of paper. A light beer and a tuna melt sandwich, and the greasy ones. He took one prolonged bite out of the sandwich. Its sandpaper qualities and heavily battered tuna repulsed him. He felt the bile rise in his stomach. Making him want to keel over. Taking a huge gulp of the beer, he sighed into relief. He repeated the process, till he had forgotten the taste of hard liquor and he was sober enough to walk.
"Best breakfast I've had in days." He whispered to himself as the idea of potentially worse food became his thoughts.
Walking out into the corridor, the light of the sun was blindingly intense. He shield his eyes turning away from the window. His flat felt much bigger than the last time he was in it. The living room expanded promoting two sofas of pristine leather quality. He was about to collapse onto one when he saw long red hair trailing down the side. Caitilin had stayed the night. Since the other guys were nowhere to be seen. I felt obliged to wake her but I felt a craving. A nasty taste I needed to feel on the tip of my tongue. Its dangerous glamour filling my lungs. The draw towards it was powerful, the addiction was strong. I fumbled around my pockets desperately searching for release. A single cigarette untouched and clean. As it touched my lips I felt its intoxicating pull. My hand was shaking slightly as I struck a match. I held the small burning splint to the tip of the cigarette. I took in a big breath and felt the delicious toxins flow through me. A lethal hunger sated by the simplest of gestures. Strike, light, Inhale, and exhale. He felt the strange tugging sensation in his heart. It slowly crept up on him. Waiting to pounce, his heart was slamming against his chest, desperately trying to punch its way through. Making the ribs sear as its beat pounded against them. Desperately he dived for the kitchen counter. A small metal container. An assortment of medication. Blue pills and red pills. It never made a difference. Which one he took. He had a strange craving for cherries. So he took the single red pill. Holding back groans of agony. He swallowed it. It took a few minutes but the pain went away. His vision dilated as the medication kicked in.
"Holy shit…"As he finally looked out the window, it was holy shit indeed.
The reason their was no sound of cars. They gracefully glided across the cityscape. The reason their was no shouting or screams of typical New Yorkers, they were dozens of floors higher than ground level. A person walking down in the street, looked like tiny black dot smudging across the window sill. The sun was covered by a veil of Red giving off a cascading red aura over the new futuristic cityscape. The buildings were like ones he saw last night, some looked more majesties then anything he had ever seen before. This wasn't New York, but what was it.
As his eyes scanned the ever expanding horizon he saw gigantic metal constructs bend along a single metal ring with a thin tower expanding from inside. Thats when he saw it. A twinkle just managing to pierce the thick pink clouds across the citadel. It was a star. You never saw stars in New York. It started to make sense the red pink nebula. Mysterious metal towers, flying cars, the unexplainable phenomenon in American cities known as stars. He was in some sort of future. All he needed to know. Could Caitlin see it too?
A/N
A repost. Reader reception will determine if I will continue this story.
Au Revoir