The world doesn’t feel real. There’s something wrong, and no one sees it.
I first experienced this strange phenomenon in kindergarten.
It was the typical kindergarten classroom. The teacher had been some middle age Asian woman, who didn’t have children of her own. But loved children so passionately, she actually had the gull to babysit a whole room of screaming children. She was the type of teacher who would tuck in everyone at nap time, and feed us cookies for snack time. Cavities and obesity in a delicious mix of baked dough- yummy! Such pleasantries kept us little brats happy.
The small school had a small Communal bathroom. Little boys ran around the bathroom giggling with their tiny penises hanging around. Girls would be scattered around the small bathroom, either catching their reflection and twirling in polka dot skirts and jean jumpers, or sitting next to another student and shitting in bright yellow potties.
I would be found in some corner, away from the noisy chatter. I hated people even at this small innocent age, where no one cared that other’s private parts were visible. I’m pretty sure this is what the Garden of Gahanna felt like, before Eve took the apple and noticed she was stark naked. It was on one particular day, I started to notice a strange static.
In my older days I would describe it as a distortion in energy. At this point in my life, I called it a glitch. Because sort of resembled my brother’s videogames, when Mario would do nothing and
the screen would freeze.
It floated around some kid. Mac Mella, I think was his name. He was a small chubby kid with red hair. He started to shake. His face blurred, his body shook. But he seemed to ignored the sensation,
and went on with his business. I just stared at him with big eyes. He didn’t notice that he was shaking? He didn’t notice his face was blurring? I poked at him.
“Hey there’s something wrong with your face.”
He glared at me. Mella would continue to glare at me for another nineteen years. His whole face went red, and his pores began to sweat. Still his face began to blur again.
“Go away. I’m using the potty.” End of discussion. Mella didn’t talk anymore and instead viciously pointed me toward the exit. I walked out, my eyes still transfixed on the kid. The day went on, and no one seemed to notice. No how many times I pointed it out. The teacher said I had a very active imagination, and made me sit in the quiet chair. I sat in angry defeated silence, as our teacher read out the story of the Hungry LadyBug.
The next day, I was shocked to see another Mac Mella, walking with Mac Mella. This Mac Mella, had a large smile, and he grabbed the other Mac Mella’s hand. The teacher didn’t even ask about the other Mella, and instead smiled as usual, as Ms.Mella dropped her kid. When it came to gathering on the large rug, teacher didn’t mention a word about the new kid. Instead she brought out blocks, and told us we were learning about 3d shapes.
“Who are you?”
“But he’s Mac Mella.”
“He’s Mac Mella too.”
“How can you be both Mac Mella?”
“Because we’re both Mac Mella, You can call me Cam.”
“I thought your name was Mac.”
“It is. But I don’t want to confuse you.”
I eyed the kid suspiciously, at his weird paradox. They were both Mac Mella, and they looked exactly the same. But this Mac wanted to be called Cam, even though he was Mac. I didn’t understand at all. I asked if they were brothers. Cam told me that they weren’t related.
It made no sense. I decided to stop talking to him, and pay attention to the teacher. She was going on about how spheres were different from circles, because circles were flat. (you don’t say?) Some kid in the back snored. Others stared at the ball excited to go outside and play with it. The sphere was clear, and I caught the reflection of Cam in it. The kid was smiling.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I would forever be involved with Cam. Cam was a curse, who brought misfortune to anyone involved with him. I guess that’s why he was so friendly. I wonder if he ever enjoyed that.
The really interesting parts of my life started around twelve and thirteen. Junior high is a nightmare to any kid, with pimples and a changing voice. Puberty the nightmare it had been, just reinforced the fact. Mac and Cam had lost considerable weight, and were the attention of every little girl in the vicinity. Mac was an asshole to everyone who approached his direction, and Cam was a ray of sunshine that made everyone smile along with him.
I met one of two guys who would forever change my life in this particular moment of time. His name was Alex Mallory. At first sight, I was really convinced he was a girl. The guy had black long hair that reached his shoulders. He was a lanky kid, with a voice that seemed permanently stuck in puberty. It was pretty squeaky, and he seemed to rasp every word he ever spoke.
It was break. I found him near a wall, with his arms crossed. His gray eyes drifted over everyone. He always came here watching everyone.
“Do you do this every day?”
“Because I’ve been assigned to.”
“I’m not allowed to say, I’ll get in trouble.”
He refused to say another word. I leaned back against the wall. “It’s pretty stupid to watch them. It’s a waste of time. All they do is gossip, make fun of each other, and pick on the wimpy kids.”
“It stays the same when you grow up and move to another place.”
“Then why bother?”
“Hmm. I wonder.”
“See anything interesting?”
“No, but I’m waiting for a discrepancy, something to go wrong.”
Something to go wrong…I follow Alex’s gaze. I doubt anything will happen. I think. Just the usual stuff, girls sit on the bench rambling about some stupid boy band. While the guys still at this point into sports instead of girls, shoot some hoops at the basketball court. Another group of kids try to outrace each other. Some eat a packed lunch under a tree. Just the same momentous routine. How could anything go wrong?
I turn to Alex. “It’s going to happen any second now.” He says without a hint of emotion. He looks bored, and even slightly annoyed.
My eyes drift. I see a kid in the middle of the playground. Static seems to just bounce off of him. It wraps around up, distorts his image, blurs his face. It’s like that incident- the birth of Mac’s so called brother.
I’m returned to my childhood, the image of Mac when there had been only one Mac comes back to mind. A memory cue, a trigger—I’m tiny; my neck is wrapped in a scarf two sizes too big for me. My parents are towering giants. I open my mouth. Mommy. Daddy. There was two Macs. My parents tell me I’m ridiculous. They must be twins. But there was only one Mac yesterday. I shoot back, I argue to the best of my ability. They must’ve just put his brother in school recently. They answer.
End of discussion.
I stare at the kid in the middle of the playground. He’s tiny and mousy, and his hair covers his face.
He’s crying. But he’s not making a sound. He wipes his tears. His blue eyes are now red from crying. It looks like there’s something wrong. He grabs his backpack from the floor, it looks like a toy. He holds it to the air. His hand goes slamming against a giant button. It’s blue. His whole body shakes.
But he’s smiling.
He looks up to the sky. I follow his gaze. It’s red. It’s a flaming ball of death. It’s a rock, rushing down at the speed of light. It’s a fucking meteor, and it’s here to fucking destroy us. Here to watch us dance in flames, beg for mercy from a higher power and evaporate into nothing- just like the dinosaurs. I turn to Alex in disbelief. But he’s nowhere to be found.
A dark shadow falls over us. Kids are starting to notice, kids are starting to panic, and I watch as people run around screaming. But this lasts only for a mere five seconds, as the meteor comes crashing down.
We’re all fucked.
Welcome to hell.
Is it a dream? I roll over; the sheets uncomfortably stick to my thighs. Something’s not right. I pull the blankets off of me. I step down expecting the sensation of hard
cold wood. My toes instead feel the plushy softness of a germ infested carpet. I search for a light switch.
The room is different. The poster of the fucked up zombie is missing from the wall. The bright neon Nerf gun I left yesterday isn’t on the floor. The collection of Marvel comics that were stacked on the desk are nowhere to be found.Not even the bottle of slime or the cut out pictures of some over sexualized female character in a videogame is on my desk. I look at the room in confusion. What the hell is going on? Where has my stuff gone? Maybe it’s there in the closet? Maybe mom had been cleaning my room? I throw open the closet. There’s a row of hanged shirts- Collared white shirts. Some socks, underwear, and some slacks. Looks like the closet of some business man. A tiny business man, I think with a scoff. I throw stuff out the closet. I catch a few shirts in a box. More collared shirts, some in blue, red, and green. Oh look a sweater vest! How exciting. My closet has been raped, replaced with a dull businessman.
I search the rest of the room.
Every piece of evidence of me is gone. All proof of a junior high student with a large brain and a quick mouth is gone.
No videogames, no comics, no giant boobs from magazines, no Nerf gun, instead it’s all replaced with rows of book shelves. Maybe I fell asleep in a monastery or something?
I try to convince myself. The sound of heels clicking against the wood fills the air.
My mother stands in front of me, her face consorts into a glare. “Do you know what time it is? You’re going to be late for school!”
“In that?” I point to the closest. People are going to beat me up.
My mother looks angry and confused. “Yes in that! Hurry up!”
You wouldn’t even imagine the surprise, of a kid who’s never work a collared shirt before, being forced to wear one. Just imagine yourself being forced to wear a suit to the beach. Not only would you be confused, but you would think you’d look stupid. It takes a few minutes to dress, another five follows as I try to figure out the tie. I nearly strangle myself trying to tighten the thing.
I walk to the dining room, and see a man siting at the table.
“He’s right there.”
I look back at the man sitting at the table.
“That’s not dad.”
“What are you talking about? That’s your father.”
“When did my father magically become Hispanic?”
“Your father was always Hispanic.”
“No.” The man at the table looks confused; he gets out of his chair, and squeezes my cheek. “What are you talking about? Man kids freakin’ hilarious. “My head gets assaulted with his fist grinding into my head.. I am so fucking lost. My mother decides it’s time to eat, and brings out the deceased animals I eat in silence, and after get ready accordingly.
I’m sitting in my mom’s car. My mind is ablaze
with questions. We get to the school and my mouth is hanging. Our shitty school is replaced by a giant white building, Roman style columns, big gold gate. A man meets us at the front, and gives us
the okay to go through.
“Mom what is this hell?”
“It’s your school darling.”
“Mom is this a private school?”
“Yes it is.” Mom looks strained, like she’s done with all the questions I’ve asked her. She’s reached a point. Stop asking pointless questions. I get down, stare at the shrubs, the little rose bushes. Must’ve cost a fortune to do this. Our shitty school would never have any of this.
That’s when I see him.
Remember how I said there would be two people who would change my life? The first guy was the weird guy with the long hair? Remember if not, I recommend you backtrack and take a gander back
at the previous pages.
Anyway that’s when I see him again. The grinning bastard. Blue eyes consumed in mischief. You blew up the fucking world! You brought the meteor upon us! You killed a whole fucking school of innocents! Have your suicide in peace you fag! Don’t drag all of us with you! You made all my material possessions disappear! You replaced my dad with a fake! You’re a bastard! I hate you! Go to the hell! Fuck you! Blah. Blah.
The thoughts stay stubbornly in my head, and away from my mouth. I stare in a silent anger. He’d probably think you were crazy. I think. Well shit, everyone thinks I’m crazy anyway. I argue, with myself, trying to convince me to do something stupid.
Mac comes behind the kid, flashes him a smile, and they walk away mouths going away in chatter. Two fakes together, how appropriate. I walk over, gracefully tripping over my two feet. A bunch of books spill out.
An empty notebook falls near my feet. I pick it up.
My name scrawled in the inside, there’s the words “Accounts of the End” scrawled on a piece of white tape.
“Why the fuck are you eating dirt?”
“What?” I look up to see Mac.
Before I can register what’s going on a fist collides with my mouth, a weird texture fills my mouth, I gag on the clump of dirt in his hand.
I spit out as much of the dirt as I can. I see a worm squirm away, Lovely, just perfect. I think it shitted in my mouth.
“What in the actual fuck?”
“Why were you staring at my brothers, faggot?”
“Who the fuck puts dirt in someone’s mouth? You’re a freaking psycho!”
“I ASKED why you were staring at my brothers!” He screams again, kicking me in the chest to illustrate his point. As if that is going to help me say something I refuse to speak about, as if that
will convince me that I can trust all my delusional theories to him.
“Because your so called brothers fucked this world up.”
“What the hell are you on?”
“You heard me Mac, your brothers fucked this world over. I saw the whole world explode in front of my eyes.”
“You’re crazy man. You’re crazy and full of shit, you’re so stuck on your freaky book, that you’ve lost it.”
How funny, my only defense in life is to be a psychotic soothsayer. How ridiculous, I laugh a bit, until my laughing causes the bruises to be felt. Okay haha, ouch. I go back up to pick my stuff up. I look at the notebook closely, Accounts of the End. I open it up, just to be reminded that it’s empty. Why would I name an empty book Accounts of the End? Had I been working on something, in my so called new life? I stare at it a bit more, until I notice something weird. The book is smells like a poignant lemon. What is this? I sniff it again. Why does my notebook, smell like someone dropped a really cheap air fresher on my notebook? Then the thought comes to me, metaphorically impaling me in the eye, as I realize dumbly. This is invisible ink, and I tried accessing it earlier which is why this notebook smells like shit.
More empty holes in my memory, I wonder what guy I used to be in this universe, before I had been forced into this place, before I had been forced into a different family and different existence. I wonder what happened to the guy that used to be me here? Did he disappear, did he die? Or did one morning he woke up, remembered what happened, disappeared into nothing, and had been replaced with me?
It’s weird to think.
© Copyright 2016 xXSplinteredDarkness. All rights reserved.
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