Morning broke like bad news on the horizon as Devi watched cop cars shrill
through the busy streets and the morning bustle began. From her apartment
window, everyone below her looked so miniscule and unimportant, but each so
self-justified in their romps that they didn't think to merit apologies to
people they ran into and knocked down on their way to ''work'' or whatever
it was.
She had been up since some ungodly hour and was unaware of the fact that she had been sitting in the same chair, staring out the same window ever since. She couldn't recall blinking, not even once, in that span of time. She decided to do so now to break the trance and try and gain some motivation from such a trivial action. She stood and stretched and decided to try and paint. Maybe painting would help clear her thoughts...
However, halfway to the bedroom, something in her mind was slowly changing. The gears reversed and something clicked and suddenly, like a rabid beast or a hopelessly dependent drug addict, Devi stopped dead in her tracks. There it was again: the noises. She thought she had had them under control. Apparently, she thought wrong. Slow, methodical yet maddening rhythms of sounds were gaining volume and control in her mind. If she listened, the noises would taper off like a sink faucet leaking, but would always be in the back of her mind. If she tuned out, though, she could hear them: piercing and demanding, an orchestrated jumble of voices and chaos, challenging and hushing, rising and falling and coming together for a climactic buzz so nauseating, Devi had to run to her room and grab a journal page. Insanely, she began scribbling down whatever she could hear. Whatever bits of information would float to her fingertips before retreating like a child playing hide-and-seek. She would in vain seek it, to dig it out and burn the bastard before it could infect, but it was too late. She had only been able to get a couple sentences down, and then it had stopped, just as quickly as it began. Sighing dejectedly, she set the paper on fire and watched it burn, trying to imagine that each little thought held a body and each of those bodies were now convulsing in agony and dissolving quickly into nothing as they were devoured by the flames. Imagination brought no relief as the ashes stared back at her. She scattered them about her room, annoyed that this cycle would not end. She wasn't crazy, this wasn't supposed to happen to her. Maybe she should go out.
.....Okay, she WAS crazy. But she called Tenna anyway, and halfway rejoiced in the familiar grating squeaking as they shared an early morning coffee together.
''Sooo...Spooky and I have missed you lately, Devikins, what has been holding you back from calling us sooner?''
Devi visibly cringed at the new nickname Tenna had for her, but she forced a meek smile and barely whispered, ''It's the noises again, Tenna. They're back. I can't control them this time...I really thought I could in the beginning, and I almost did! I had them under control. I could force them back into silence, but now it's like a Pandora's Box of shit has been opened in my brain and all I hear now is this...this...nothingness of insanity that scatters through out my mind and contaminates my day.''
Tenna listened intently, giving Spooky a sympathetic squeak, then cocked her head slightly to one side, then said in a surprisingly motherly voice, ''Look, Devi, we're not always going to be in control of everything. Maybe this is your vice in life, a starving—but brilliant—artist consumed by voices.''
Speechless. Devi was absolutely speechless. For a mere second, she could've mistaken Tenna for a therapist of some sort, but even that very insightful bit of advice was enough to haunt her for the remainder of her week: she was always going to be stalked by these beings in her mind? Fuck...
Tenna's moment of startling clarity faded as quickly as it had appeared as she looked at her watch and then stood up quickly in the restaurant booth. ''Great scoooooots, Spooky!!'' She exclaimed, holding the little squeak toy high above her head and staring into its dull painted eyes dramatically. ''We're late for our meeting at the crazy old people home!''
''Old people home?'' Devi cocked an eyebrow and questioned Tenna's sanity for the umpteenth time in their friendship. But questioning someone else's sanity right now would be pretty hypocritical. She felt like with every passing grain of time, more and more of her was slipping through the cracks of meaningfulness.
''Yes,'' Tenna replied as she pulled on her jacket and stood, squeaking Spooky lovingly. ''We're gonna go visit my crazy old momma and watch her dance on the cafeteria tables! We love her, don't we, Spooky? TANGO, BABY, TANGO!!'' And with a nod of a goodbye and couple shimmies, Tenna was gone from the diner.
Devi sighed and settled back against the greasy diner booth, alone with her thoughts and a couple older looking patrons scattered about the dilapidated eatery. She ran her hand slowly around the edge of a tan coffee cup sitting on the table a couple inches from her and sighed deeply, staring perplexed into the abyss of the black coffee. Everything Tenna had said made so much sense, but yet, Devi felt she couldn't grasp it. She hadn't been able to grasp anything lately, or control any part of herself. The only thing she could seem to control was what she would wear or eat.
-I'm spiraling out of control, I keep falling through this labyrinth of rickety old voices that I can't remember and yet seem to know, there's no resolve, no relief...I am a garbage can. Yes, a garbage can for the world. I am housing other people's ignored thoughts. That has to be it: I'm not crazy, I'm psychic. There ya go, Devi. Don't worry, you're not losing it.-
Feeling very little comfort from this new excuse in a series of many she had been conceiving since the interruptions had began, she pushed the coffee cup away, feeling even less control over the situation. Sighing even deeper, she looked up at the passing waitress and muttered, ''Check please.''
Johnny awoke with a startle. He didn't remember falling asleep. Yet, here he was passed out on the living room floor, staring at a pool of vomit surrounding him. Hmm...he didn't remember that either. He sat up and was greeted with a pounding headache that roughly shoved him back down against the dusty wooden floor, his eyes shut tightly, trying to ward off the pain. After a moment of what sounded like an ambulance siren screaming its emergencies through his mind, the pain suddenly seized. Johnny slowly opened his eyes and his vision gradually cleared, and again his eyes met with his lonely living room. When he found the strength and composure to force his body to sit up, he tried to piece together the events of the night before. He remembered the Skettios, the stroll that led him to spying on Devi, his run home...then nothing. There was nothing—wait, yes, there was something. As Johnny stood and balanced himself against the couch, he could remember, very vaguely, like a hint of a dream, a conversation he had with someone. Or was it just himself he had been talking to? And...was it even real or had it in fact been a dream? He decided the latter had to be untrue because he slept rarely and dreamed never...at least, not since after the memory wipe; the big block of time in his memory that separated the present from his past. As he settled back down onto the arm of the couch, he could barely hear a little girl (or what sounded like a little girl) giggling in the back of his mind.
''For fuck's sake, not another one...'' He buried his face in his hands and tried to negotiate with it internally, trying to force it out. The giggling died down, however, and there were no human phrases that could bargain with whatever being it was. Johnny shuddered as he remembered the doughboys and their influence, how would he be able to deal with another one? Especially when that Reverend MEAT guy was somewhere lurking in his home...
Johnny suddenly remembered the voice from the night before, the one that had told him to stop at Devi's window. It had been a peaceable and gentle voice, something like a mother's voice. Or at least he figured it was like a mother's voice, because he couldn't remember his. The giggling did sound somewhat like the figment from the night before...
Johnny stood up and stretched, a dim expression of boredom running along his features.
''Whatever you are,'' He whispered to himself. ''Just don't fook with me, things are going great. G-R-E-A-T! Just like frosted flakies...speaking of which, those sound nummy to the tummy right about now.'' Whirling around to get his coat from the ground, he checked the pockets to make sure he had enough money. While investigating, he found a rather large knife and smiled, forgetting it had been there.
''Maybe on the way home we can find a friend!'' Johnny mused to the knife, then cuddled it closely. ''YAY!''
He slipped the knife discreetly into a hidden chest pocket, and then took off; ignoring—or perhaps not noticing—the dull cackling growing in the back of his mind where a new patch of weeds had been planted: a new Sickness that was about to break open hell into two people's lives.
A/N: hey-lo! That was chapter two of Mind Talk on a Moonless Night. You already know I don't own the characters, so no law suits for meeee! Quick history on this story: I wrote up a story somewhat like this a year or so ago called ''Follow Me Home'' (which I may someday revise and put up) that basically followed the same storyline. It started with Devi's bad dream and...well, I can't say right now. WHEE!! You probably have figured out that little voice that's running amuck in the thought dimension is Sickness. If you did, good job, two points! If not...hey, that's ok...I probably wouldn't have figured it out either. Anyhoo, sorry if things seem really slow right now, things will start picking up soon. Reviews are appreciated n_n flames are used to pop some good popcorn. Mmm... So, until next time: I'm Rick James!! -Yummy
She had been up since some ungodly hour and was unaware of the fact that she had been sitting in the same chair, staring out the same window ever since. She couldn't recall blinking, not even once, in that span of time. She decided to do so now to break the trance and try and gain some motivation from such a trivial action. She stood and stretched and decided to try and paint. Maybe painting would help clear her thoughts...
However, halfway to the bedroom, something in her mind was slowly changing. The gears reversed and something clicked and suddenly, like a rabid beast or a hopelessly dependent drug addict, Devi stopped dead in her tracks. There it was again: the noises. She thought she had had them under control. Apparently, she thought wrong. Slow, methodical yet maddening rhythms of sounds were gaining volume and control in her mind. If she listened, the noises would taper off like a sink faucet leaking, but would always be in the back of her mind. If she tuned out, though, she could hear them: piercing and demanding, an orchestrated jumble of voices and chaos, challenging and hushing, rising and falling and coming together for a climactic buzz so nauseating, Devi had to run to her room and grab a journal page. Insanely, she began scribbling down whatever she could hear. Whatever bits of information would float to her fingertips before retreating like a child playing hide-and-seek. She would in vain seek it, to dig it out and burn the bastard before it could infect, but it was too late. She had only been able to get a couple sentences down, and then it had stopped, just as quickly as it began. Sighing dejectedly, she set the paper on fire and watched it burn, trying to imagine that each little thought held a body and each of those bodies were now convulsing in agony and dissolving quickly into nothing as they were devoured by the flames. Imagination brought no relief as the ashes stared back at her. She scattered them about her room, annoyed that this cycle would not end. She wasn't crazy, this wasn't supposed to happen to her. Maybe she should go out.
.....Okay, she WAS crazy. But she called Tenna anyway, and halfway rejoiced in the familiar grating squeaking as they shared an early morning coffee together.
''Sooo...Spooky and I have missed you lately, Devikins, what has been holding you back from calling us sooner?''
Devi visibly cringed at the new nickname Tenna had for her, but she forced a meek smile and barely whispered, ''It's the noises again, Tenna. They're back. I can't control them this time...I really thought I could in the beginning, and I almost did! I had them under control. I could force them back into silence, but now it's like a Pandora's Box of shit has been opened in my brain and all I hear now is this...this...nothingness of insanity that scatters through out my mind and contaminates my day.''
Tenna listened intently, giving Spooky a sympathetic squeak, then cocked her head slightly to one side, then said in a surprisingly motherly voice, ''Look, Devi, we're not always going to be in control of everything. Maybe this is your vice in life, a starving—but brilliant—artist consumed by voices.''
Speechless. Devi was absolutely speechless. For a mere second, she could've mistaken Tenna for a therapist of some sort, but even that very insightful bit of advice was enough to haunt her for the remainder of her week: she was always going to be stalked by these beings in her mind? Fuck...
Tenna's moment of startling clarity faded as quickly as it had appeared as she looked at her watch and then stood up quickly in the restaurant booth. ''Great scoooooots, Spooky!!'' She exclaimed, holding the little squeak toy high above her head and staring into its dull painted eyes dramatically. ''We're late for our meeting at the crazy old people home!''
''Old people home?'' Devi cocked an eyebrow and questioned Tenna's sanity for the umpteenth time in their friendship. But questioning someone else's sanity right now would be pretty hypocritical. She felt like with every passing grain of time, more and more of her was slipping through the cracks of meaningfulness.
''Yes,'' Tenna replied as she pulled on her jacket and stood, squeaking Spooky lovingly. ''We're gonna go visit my crazy old momma and watch her dance on the cafeteria tables! We love her, don't we, Spooky? TANGO, BABY, TANGO!!'' And with a nod of a goodbye and couple shimmies, Tenna was gone from the diner.
Devi sighed and settled back against the greasy diner booth, alone with her thoughts and a couple older looking patrons scattered about the dilapidated eatery. She ran her hand slowly around the edge of a tan coffee cup sitting on the table a couple inches from her and sighed deeply, staring perplexed into the abyss of the black coffee. Everything Tenna had said made so much sense, but yet, Devi felt she couldn't grasp it. She hadn't been able to grasp anything lately, or control any part of herself. The only thing she could seem to control was what she would wear or eat.
-I'm spiraling out of control, I keep falling through this labyrinth of rickety old voices that I can't remember and yet seem to know, there's no resolve, no relief...I am a garbage can. Yes, a garbage can for the world. I am housing other people's ignored thoughts. That has to be it: I'm not crazy, I'm psychic. There ya go, Devi. Don't worry, you're not losing it.-
Feeling very little comfort from this new excuse in a series of many she had been conceiving since the interruptions had began, she pushed the coffee cup away, feeling even less control over the situation. Sighing even deeper, she looked up at the passing waitress and muttered, ''Check please.''
Johnny awoke with a startle. He didn't remember falling asleep. Yet, here he was passed out on the living room floor, staring at a pool of vomit surrounding him. Hmm...he didn't remember that either. He sat up and was greeted with a pounding headache that roughly shoved him back down against the dusty wooden floor, his eyes shut tightly, trying to ward off the pain. After a moment of what sounded like an ambulance siren screaming its emergencies through his mind, the pain suddenly seized. Johnny slowly opened his eyes and his vision gradually cleared, and again his eyes met with his lonely living room. When he found the strength and composure to force his body to sit up, he tried to piece together the events of the night before. He remembered the Skettios, the stroll that led him to spying on Devi, his run home...then nothing. There was nothing—wait, yes, there was something. As Johnny stood and balanced himself against the couch, he could remember, very vaguely, like a hint of a dream, a conversation he had with someone. Or was it just himself he had been talking to? And...was it even real or had it in fact been a dream? He decided the latter had to be untrue because he slept rarely and dreamed never...at least, not since after the memory wipe; the big block of time in his memory that separated the present from his past. As he settled back down onto the arm of the couch, he could barely hear a little girl (or what sounded like a little girl) giggling in the back of his mind.
''For fuck's sake, not another one...'' He buried his face in his hands and tried to negotiate with it internally, trying to force it out. The giggling died down, however, and there were no human phrases that could bargain with whatever being it was. Johnny shuddered as he remembered the doughboys and their influence, how would he be able to deal with another one? Especially when that Reverend MEAT guy was somewhere lurking in his home...
Johnny suddenly remembered the voice from the night before, the one that had told him to stop at Devi's window. It had been a peaceable and gentle voice, something like a mother's voice. Or at least he figured it was like a mother's voice, because he couldn't remember his. The giggling did sound somewhat like the figment from the night before...
Johnny stood up and stretched, a dim expression of boredom running along his features.
''Whatever you are,'' He whispered to himself. ''Just don't fook with me, things are going great. G-R-E-A-T! Just like frosted flakies...speaking of which, those sound nummy to the tummy right about now.'' Whirling around to get his coat from the ground, he checked the pockets to make sure he had enough money. While investigating, he found a rather large knife and smiled, forgetting it had been there.
''Maybe on the way home we can find a friend!'' Johnny mused to the knife, then cuddled it closely. ''YAY!''
He slipped the knife discreetly into a hidden chest pocket, and then took off; ignoring—or perhaps not noticing—the dull cackling growing in the back of his mind where a new patch of weeds had been planted: a new Sickness that was about to break open hell into two people's lives.
A/N: hey-lo! That was chapter two of Mind Talk on a Moonless Night. You already know I don't own the characters, so no law suits for meeee! Quick history on this story: I wrote up a story somewhat like this a year or so ago called ''Follow Me Home'' (which I may someday revise and put up) that basically followed the same storyline. It started with Devi's bad dream and...well, I can't say right now. WHEE!! You probably have figured out that little voice that's running amuck in the thought dimension is Sickness. If you did, good job, two points! If not...hey, that's ok...I probably wouldn't have figured it out either. Anyhoo, sorry if things seem really slow right now, things will start picking up soon. Reviews are appreciated n_n flames are used to pop some good popcorn. Mmm... So, until next time: I'm Rick James!! -Yummy
