Thursday, 10 February 2011


Another story that got started and then hit the wall of lost inspiration. It's called Sin.

I’ve often dealt with the more negative forces of the universe, being turned ever more cynical by the curve-balls that life had thrown at me one after another. You remember that old saying ‘some people are just never happy’? Well, I laugh at that statement. Happy? Fuck you. It turns out that I just hate.

Waging wars of prejudice upon weak minded puppets used to be my sport. I’d slit the throat of the snake tongued liars and sever any thread of corrupt justice meted out arbitrarily without even a glimpse behind; not a second thought. But as fate would weave it, I turned into mine own enemy. I used to believe that there were good people in the world and that if you tried hard enough you’d succeed in life. You wouldn’t become like one of those other dregs you see on the train every morning; lifeless and grey with their expensive suits and shitty little haircuts. I didn’t want to be like that at all.
I wanted to be somebody who would make a difference to the world and be remembered forever as a saviour. The guy who cured the big C or the guy who reversed the effects of aging so we’d never grow old again. The guy who could bring joy to a child’s face when she sees her recently deceased dog running through the back door again. I want I want I want. Obviously none of this turned out how I’d planned it.
What really happened was a brain tumour.
It thrust my life in to an equivocal paradox where I began to see the cloud on every silver lining. It’d do the same to you too. Sure it would. Imagine being told you’ve only got so long to live before you’re going to keel over. That’s it. Finished. Hope you’ve enjoyed your stay. I never even got the chance to raise a family because science nerds don’t get girlfriends. They’re too wimpy. They get married to Clearasil and to their computers. They don’t get hot porn-star women chasing after them because beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. He who doesn’t judge on appearance is truly the shallow. I don’t remember who said that.
The doctor said he didn’t know how long I’d have, only that it wouldn’t be very long and I should start making arrangements. I sat there for a few moments, him staring at me from under his turban quietly whilst I took the information in. I just stared. It was like being shot; the world seeming to screech to a halt. My heart beat in my chest like an animal trying to break through, my insignificant life being diminished to that of a flicker amongst the halo that is the universe. The little things important to you are obsolete, the fears just jokes with sour punch-lines.
“I’m sorry to have to give you this news Mr. Morris”.
He almost had to say it twice; I don’t think I heard him the first time.
“There is nothing we can do I’m afraid. The tumour is aggressive”.
It was funny hearing this through a bad English/Indian accent. It was then that I just got up and left. I have no idea what he was saying to me when I closed his office door, but he didn’t come after me. I suppose he didn’t think it worth it. I was just another name being crossed off. He still gets paid so why does he care? I drove back to the lab.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention through my sob story. I’m a scientist.

It stinks. The rain only tends to make it worse…and here, it rains continuously. The morose grey gets its daily downpour but it doesn’t bother me. You get used to it. But that smell…that smell you can never get rid of. It’s a mixture of blood, piss and defecation.
That’s all this place stands for now. That and sin.

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