Guest List (rewrite)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Contently Deranged Travelers
A rewrite to the story I wrote in April

Submitted: January 22, 2017

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Submitted: January 22, 2017

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Guest List

*Based on the lyrics of, “Guest List,” by the Eels*

The man wasn’t sure how he got there. It was completely dark except for the dim light in front of him. A ways ahead there was a fancy double door embedded with gold and diamonds. Engraved in the door were the names of various people he knew; his boss, neighbor, the girl of his dreams and many others who were wealthy and popular.

The man felt the door, softly gliding his hand across the middle region, looking for a handle of some kind. He pushed the door open and instantly heard various people talking and laughing. Light blinded him as he looked around. There were groups of men and women engaged in conversation, wine, food, and shiny marble flooring; it was a mansion of some sorts.

Oddly, there was a receptionist at the front. The man made his way to the desk.  The receptionist was an arrogant looking older man who was wearing the clothes of a butler.  Underneath the butler’s hands was a long list of names.

The man asked the butler: “Are you one of the beautiful people?”

The old man smiled smugly and replied, “Well, of course.”

The man pointed at himself nervously and asked if he was on the list. The Butler didn’t even look down and continued to stare at the man with a disapproving look, “I’m afraid not.”  The man turned around in disappointment. As he walked away, he sadly sung to himself: “I want to be one of the beautiful people. I wanna feel like I’m missed.”

Nobody took notice of the man as he left the room. He went back into the darkness; a darkness he didn’t understand. As his eyes adjusted, he continued to walk down the hallway which was decayed and eerie with puddles on the floor, graffiti on the walls, and rats scurrying around. There were jail cells to his left and right. Suddenly, a light shone through a tiny hole in the ceiling revealing a wall that was covered with various codes, symbols, and descriptions. The man observed it for a moment and placed his hand on the wall. It look live various different handwritings with numbers and languages- some even appeared to be alien. His body shook as he stared at the light shining on his fingers.

All of a sudden, the man heard someone talking; the voice echoed and it sounded scratchy as if someone had turned on a radio in the distance. The man couldn’t make out what the voice was saying. Then, there was the sound of boots loudly thumping and getting louder by the second as a police officer grew closer. The officer stood in the shadows staring at the man.

“Hey, you with the walkie-talkie,” The man pointed at the policeman, “I know my clothes aren’t right.” The officer didn’t reply and grabbed the man, turning him side to side and looking him up and down then placed handcuffs on him. The man was so disoriented that he couldn’t understand what the officer was doing; he felt drugged. The officer attempted to lead the man down the hallway but the man just stood there as the officer tugged on his arm. Then the man slowly titled his head up like a child would when talking to an adult. In a melancholy tone of voice he said, “I wish I had my own walkie-talkie that reached to God every night.” The cop told him to be quiet.  

As they made their way down the hallway, the man’s head twitched back and forth as if he were a robot glitching in and out. He began to sing again, “Everybody needs to be somebody. Everyone needs to find someone who cares.” The officer ignored him as he opened the door to a cell and pushed the man inside and locked it. Before the officer left, he looked back at the man who was intently staring at him with hands on the bars. The man looked the officer straight in the eye and said, “I don’t know if you know what I mean.” The officer looked at him confused and the man replied, “’cause I’m never on their list!”  The officer rolled his eyes and put the keys to the cell in his pocket and then he slowly disappeared down the dark tunnel.

The man sighed as he looked out his cell window. The world outside looked so far away but it was still sunny and beautiful with trees, buildings and cars. He suddenly noticed a pretty lady in a red dress standing by a car nearby the jail and she was staring at him. The man motioned for her to come over and she reluctantly walked closer to his cell to see what he wanted.

“Hey,” the man whispered, “You’re one of the beautiful people?”

The girl looked at him as if he were insane.

“Am I on the wrong track?” He asked.

Again, she stared blankly.

The man started to get upset, “Sometimes it feels like I’m made of eggshell,” he paused, and searched her eyes, “and it feels like I’m just gonna crack.”

The lady was freaked out and didn’t know what to say. She turned around slowly then hurried back to her fancy car where her boyfriend was waiting; he opened the car door for her as he suspiciously looked towards the man’s cell. The man stared back as he sang to himself quietly, “Everyone needs to be somebody. Everyone needs to find someone who cares.” The boyfriend gave the man a disgusted look and the man just smiled and waved.

“They don’t know what I mean; I’m never on their list.” The man whispered and stopped to look beside him; in the shadows was another guy in a cell staring out a window. The other man turned to look at him and said, “It’s just an illusion you know.” 

Confused by this, the man looked out the window again and was shocked to see that within a few seconds everything had turned to ash and there were hundreds of skeletons walking around.

“Look at em',” The other man said as the man glanced at the wasteland once more then looked back at his cellmate who continued, “Do you really want to be one of the people?”

 

 


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