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Shorts
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| Advocacy | |
| By raskolnikoff | ||||||||||||
| 12 June 2006 | ||||||||||||
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Do you ever feel strong temptation? Sometimes Caleb felt as if other people were with him; as if he was amongst friends. Tonight he could feel it stronger than ever, and his allies were spurring him on, encouraging him to do it. As he turned the girl over on her back, he could feel invisible hands helping him. The hands always helped, they assured him. She was fully clothed, but Caleb didn’t worry about taking off her shoes. He hitched up her skirt until it reached her hips, and then ripped off her panties with both hands, tearing them from her thighs. He stood up and found the length of rope on the wooden chair; bending down, he skilfully tied the girl’s hands together, and reached behind the radiator to attach the knot that would keep her still. The girl did not stir. Satisfied, Caleb picked up his razor from the floor, and slowly slit open the girl’s blouse, a pink silk which tore like paper. He nicked her with the tip of the blade just below the bra; she gasped slightly but still did not wake. She had long, dark hair which spread around her face as she lay upon the damp carpet. One of her earrings was missing, but a silver necklace continued to shine brightly above her breasts. Caleb stood over the girl with his razor. He could feel his heart pounding, and a familiar pain ignited within his chest. It was passion, but not the passion of love; madness had erupted, and he felt the fear associated with so many uncontrollable episodes. His friends whispered to him more strongly than before, and he could feel blood pounding in his temples. His pulse quickened as he knelt, opening the legs of the sleeping girl. He forced his fingers inside her with his coarse left hand, and guided himself in with his right. She was dry, but Caleb penetrated deeply while his audience murmured groans of approval. His heartbeat raced strongly and he continued to push, his hands now locked around the throat of the girl, just above her pretty necklace. Her mouth was open slightly, and Caleb spat in her face, the saliva landing and trickling down her cheek like a greasy tear. He could smell his own perversion, and thought briefly about the girl’s family. About their inevitable tears, their grief and their absolute loss. And as this thought flashed through his mind he released his chokehold on the girl; he reached for his razor instead, and as he exploded deep inside of her, he lifted the razor above his head and brought it down, over and over again… The alarm clock wasn’t working so Caleb checked his mobile phone for the time. It was the third night in a row that he had woke up at 3:29 exactly, and it was the third night in a row that the same dream had woken him. Always the dream about the girl. He put his phone back on the ground and turned on the lamp, revealing an untidy clutter of books, magazines, empty glasses and cans. The room was a disgrace and had been ever since his girlfriend had deserted him. Like Caleb, it reeked of stale cigarette smoke, alcohol and something rather more unpleasant. He swung his feet out of the bed that hadn’t been made for two months, and padded through the door to the kitchen. He had lost his job, and didn’t need to get up early in the morning. He considered watching T.V for a couple of hours (perhaps the news was on), but a mixture of chronic depression, dehydration and the nightmare made up his mind. Flicking on the kettle, he walked back through to the living room, and sat shaking on the only armchair. He could hear an argument breaking outside between a man and a woman. The man was trying to open her front door, but the woman seemed to have it bolted. The man gave up and started singing ‘Maggie May’ loudly and quite tunefully. Caleb wondered if he was a regular on the karaoke. He stood up from his chair, and scratched his head. Flakes of dead skin lightly fell around his shoulders. No teaspoons were visible in the kitchen, so Caleb decanted a measure of cheap coffee into a broken cup, with an equal measure of sugar. The milk was off, so Caleb poured the boiling water over the mixture and swilled it gently from side to side. He walked back to his bedroom in the dark, guided only by the light which shone from the crack of the bedroom door. He picked up a hardcore porno magazine from the chair’s armrest on the way back. Back in the bedroom, the light from the lamp dimmed ever so slightly. Caleb opened the door, and his shadow passed by the window, curtained with an old towel. He placed the mug on the ground, and swung back into bed, his skinny legs shuffled back below the blanket. He flicked open his magazine, but as he did so he caught sight of the old wooden chair in the corner of the room. A stranger was sitting in it. Caleb started; it wasn’t the first time he had witnessed hallucinations, but this fellow was certainly the most real. The man on the chair smiled. He was a respectable looking apparition, with a small beard and well groomed, straight brown hair. His eyes twinkled jokingly and a thin smile played around his lips. He wore black trousers and shoes, with a smart yet casual plum shirt and a slightly frayed grey jacket. He wasn’t wearing a wristwatch, but he wore gold rings on three of his fingers. He looked around forty years old, and was the picture of a respectable businessman. Suddenly, he started, with a slightly concerned look. ‘Caleb, I’ve been ever so worried about you,’ he began ‘please excuse my interruption but I wanted to know how things have been working out for you lately.’ ‘As if you don’t know already!’ replied Caleb, shifting himself to a seated position. ‘It’s not as if you haven’t been paying attention.’ ‘So you’ve been expecting me?’ ‘Yes and no. I can feel myself slipping again, and I’m sure you would like to think that you had something to do with that. But I made myself ill last time, do you remember? As soon as we started talking last time I got so wound up…I didn’t know what you were. But now I know.’ The stranger smiled and leant forward in his chair. ‘I thought a man of your intelligence would have always known.’ Caleb looked at him straight in the eye. ‘You are me. Nothing more. Just a manifestation; an apparition.’ ‘Is that so?’ the man in the chair stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘Surely you cannot hold yourself in such high esteem? It seems that man really is too proud. I paid a visit to a young man last week who claimed he had created me! Imagine that, one useless, pathetic little man creating the devil Himself! And now, Caleb, you claim that I am you. Not even a scavenging rat would choose to be you, don’t you see? Your body, your soul; well, they’re as bad as the decisions you make! Without me you are nothing, surely you must see that!’ Caleb was struggling to keep himself under control. As much as he wanted to believe that the stranger was merely a hallucination, his goading was nevertheless persuasive to the contrary. ‘And what about God?’ enquired Caleb. ‘A God? Whose God? Don’t tell me that you’re an idealist now.’ He sat back in his chair and awaited Caleb’s response. ‘You know that’s not true, but I can’t see how the devil can exist without God. It would be like good without evil, honesty without liars. If you are the devil, then you are exactly what God is not; you are Hell to His Heaven.’ The gentleman smiled. ‘I don’t know the answers to everything, Caleb…’ ‘And I know precisely why! It’s because you’re me! You say that you came here to see how things were working out for me, to check on my health. Things that have been running through my head since I woke up! I’m concerned about my life, but I don’t need to justify anything to you, just myself!’ Caleb quickly got out of bed and stood up. He walked briskly to the door as the man watched. ‘Where are you going?’ ‘To rinse my face in cold water. To cool my fever. And when I come back, you won’t be here anymore.’ The stranger stroked his beard again, and turned to Caleb before he left the room. ‘At least we’ve started again on such friendly terms…’ ‘Idiot’ laughed Caleb, ‘why should I pay host to you? You’re a figment of my imagination, that’s all. You’ll be gone when I come back.’ Caleb pulled the door closed behind him and went to the bathroom. He turned on the tap and splashed cool water over his face. The water was never freezing cold from the shared water tank, but nevertheless he felt more alert. He dampened a towel and took it back with him into the bedroom. The man in the chair was sitting in the same position as when he had laughed. ‘You really are a fool’ said Caleb, shaking his head, ‘just leave and let me go to sleep. I want nothing more to do with you.’ ‘If I leave, then perhaps you will have another nightmare. It was a nightmare, wasn’t it, Caleb?’ ‘You’re a nightmare. This is all just a dream, and I know that I’ll be fine tomorrow.’ He rested the damp towel on his head and squeezed. The water dribbled across his brow and landed on the pillow. ‘I don’t even know if you are a nightmare. But you are a leech. A parasite. And if you are really the devil, why don’t you tell me something I don’t know? All the time, I spend my life regretting things that I’ve done. I even regret the things that I know I probably will do! So come on, then. Tell me something about somebody else; give me all the filthy gossip! I’m not insane, and I won’t give you the pleasure of sending me to an institution.’ Caleb leant back again and let more water run down his face. ‘A leech and a parasite? So perhaps I’m not just a nightmare! It seems that you finally understand, Caleb, that I am not just a figment of your imagination. That I really am present…’ ‘I said no such thing!’ replied Caleb furiously, ‘You’re nothing but a lie and part of my illness. My thoughts and feelings…you represent the worst of them. Every bad thought I’ve had, every evil deed I’ve done, that’s you. I know that.’ ‘You say that you know that, but I’d like to correct you,’ said the gentleman, in hushed tones, ‘can you remember your so called treatment? Your rehabilitation as you so fondly called it? I distinctly remember my name being mentioned. When they found out what you had done what did you say? He told you didn’t he! He put me up to it! Surely you must admit that, at that time, you wholly believed in my existence! A figment of your imagination? Rubbish!’ ‘It was human frailty. I wasn’t well at the time. I can’t remember if I was even asleep or awake. Perhaps it was just a dream.’ ‘I think you know the answer to that, Caleb…’ The man in the chair folded his hands across his lap. ‘It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I disown you. I believe in you no more’ said Caleb, tiredly. ‘Do you have any cough medicine, Caleb?’ Caleb looked up and laughed. ‘Cough medicine? For the devil?’ He laughed again and shook his head. The gentlemen coughed. ‘It seems my young friend that you are under some illusion as to my capacity here. I’m sure that you must have heard that I am a fallen angel? Yes, an angel! When I come to earth I must inhabit the body of man! What did you expect, a long tail and flapping wings, fire and brimstone? I am in your home! Allow me to be a gentleman (as I am dressed) and speak to you frankly. I am a man. As such, I suffer from the same ailments as you. Sometimes I catch a cold, sometimes I get the flu, and sometimes I have a chest infection. Now do you have any cough medicine?’ ‘No. And the devil suffering from human ailments? Don’t be so ridiculous.’ ‘Not as many as you it seems. What did the doctors say last week, Caleb?’ ‘Fuck You.’ ‘That wasn’t very kind. Not for someone in your state, anyway.’ ‘Fool.’ ‘Has it not occurred to you, Caleb, that my illnesses were not an invention of yours? You would never have guessed that the devil could be as weak as a man. The statement was original, and it was mine. You claim that I am an illusion, a ghost, in essence a reflection of yourself. Yet the thought was not yours it could never have occurred to you.’ Caleb was astonished. The man in the chair was right, yet he was still unwilling to believe him. ‘Give me another example. Tell me a story. Something I’ve never heard before.’ The man considered. ‘It’s not easy, you know Caleb. Coming up with something from the top of my head. But here goes; this is quite an amusing story, I’m sure you haven’t heard it before…’ ‘Go on’ said Caleb, with a distinct lack of interest. ‘There was once a man found dead,’ began the gentleman ‘in the middle of a forest clearing. Not unusual, you might think. However, the man was found in a charred, destroyed clearing wearing only his swimming trunks. Don’t you think that very odd?’ ‘What had happened to him?’ asked Caleb, leaning forward, seemingly gaining curiosity. ‘Well,’ continued the man ‘in that very forest there had been a massive fire, spreading to nearby houses. The fire brigade couldn’t handle the blaze, so they asked for a helicopter; a helicopter which could carry massive vats of water. The water was carried from the nearby coast to the forest and dropped above the fire. It just so happened that one of these helicopters had accidentally picked up a swimmer from the sea! It was his body that was found in the fire!’ ‘Idiot!’ roared Caleb laughing. ‘That’s the same story I was told when I was about nine years old by my friend! I knew half-way through what was going to happen! You have just proved that you are nothing but a figment of my imagination and a stupid fool!’ ‘A stupid fool?’ replied the man, venomously, ‘you dare to malign me, how dare you insult me? Who are you to speak like this? I may not be who I appear, but even the devil could not stoop to your level of filth and degradation! You speak to me like a true murderer!’ ‘I am not a murderer!’ screamed Caleb. ‘Not a murderer? Not a murderer of men, perhaps. But a torturer and murderer of animals, or do you not remember?’ ‘It was a long time ago…’ ‘You gambled your family’s money. You broke them and left them destitute…’ ‘Stop!’ ‘…your father disowned you the second time, before he was killed. You are a rapist. Or is that too far back to remember?’ laughed the man, mockingly. ‘Why do you do this? I’m trying to get better…’ ‘All the lives you have ruined, and you want to stop now? Debase yourself further, be the worst that you can possibly be! Why abuse women? Why not try little boys? After all you’ll never know unless…’ ‘Please, have some pity! Just let me try and get better’ Caleb cried, into his hands. ‘You want pity? Why do you think you deserve pity? Because everybody laughs at you? Because everybody mocks you with their piggy little eyes? You are different Caleb; you are not God’s plan. You are your own; do what makes you happy and damn the consequences! You could not be any lower than you are now. You are nothing, worthless and pathetic. If you want something, take it! I’m giving it all to you!’ ‘But,’ Caleb spluttered ‘it’s not yours to give, is it?’ The man laughed. ‘No. It’s all yours to take. What’s the worst that could happen?’ Caleb looked at the back of his hands. The hands that had broke bones, the hands that had tortured, and the hands that had inflicted pain on so many. ‘What’s one more regret, Caleb?’ whispered the man. Caleb looked directly at him, and he stopped a tear from rolling down his cheek. ‘So what now? He asked. ‘Follow me’ said the man, finally rising from his chair. Caleb followed the gentleman into the living room where he stood beside the window. A tattered old net curtain hung from the pole, and the windows were filthy with grime and dust. An empty beer can sat on the windowsill. ‘Look outside, Caleb.’ He pulled the net slightly to one side, and looked out to the street. A shadow moved in the orange glow of the streetlight, getting closer to his overgrown garden. The shadow took shape as a pretty brunette stumbled to the garden fence, and collapsed as she tried to hold herself steady. The street was otherwise deserted, and the lights were all out in nearby houses. Caleb turned to the devil and looked him straight in the eye. Brushing past he opened the front door and strode towards the garden fence. Before he reached the girl and lifted her over his shoulder, he knew that she would be wearing a pretty silver necklace. END
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