Once your eyes finally close, there's no telling what's going to happen. You can wind up anywhere, literally doing anything with anyone. Often times most people don't even have control over it. You're simply trapped and doomed to go wherever it drags you. The worst part is you think it's real. You have no recollection of how you got there, where this all began, or why it's happening, and you just blindly accept it. What's really strange is the whole thing feels natural. Not just natural, but meaningful. It is as if there is something significant about every object, action, and person. It's freaky. You don't even realize how absurd it all clearly is. In fact, you somehow feel like you know what's going on. You believe you understand the symbolism and morals of everything within this made-up world. You're a weirdo for not thinking this is weird. You're a weirdo for finding comfort in an act as misunderstood as this and willingly accept it on a daily basis. Some of you sick fuckers actually long for it and complain when you don't get enough of it. You truly are twisted little freak, aren't you? I bet you haven't even thought of any of these things until now.
So I guess sleep is a lot like death. It eventually comes to take every one of us into its cold, mysterious arms. You don't know what will happen when it does, but when it does, it feels absolutely wonderful. There are those of us who choose to fight it, and there are those of us who willingly give in to its soft embrace. Which one are you?
Here's your fuckin story. It's part 2 of the Arkady series. Part 3 isn't finished yet so don't expect to see it tomorrow.
Arkady and the Sea
Akady’s feet reluctantly brought him back the towering dark obelisk that housed the home offices of B&E Paper Co. He stood for a moment in front of the entrance. Looking up at the smooth dark stone he came to realize that this building was Death. Death to him, and Death to all those inside; whether they realized it or not. He understood clearly that this building was naught more than a tombstone.
Accepting this, Arkady sluggishly made his way inside, through the lobby, up the elevator, and back to his cubicle. He saw no one and heard nothing. He was no longer a man, but the shadow of one. He trudged through his day experiencing as little of it as he could. As he also did with the following day, and the next, and the next…
Arkady continued in this way for three more years. In that time, his favorite bistro went out of business and he received a six cent raise. His memories of these past years were nothing more than murky visions of paper, pens, pencils, manila envelopes, and paperclips. These visions flitted about in his head like dreams, terrible ones. The kind people fling themselves out of seventh story windows to wake up from.
Falling asleep on his ratty old mattress, they stalked him as nightmares. He felt trapped; like he was lost in an endless fog of forms and deadlines, and it was these very things he felt, these insignificant objects, that bound him to his personal hell. Hours passed as he lay under these chains of bondage, when miraculously, it all disappeared. Arkady opened his eyes to find himself lying on a beach, the midday sun shining brilliantly above. He looked around and saw his coworkers and their families playing blissfully in the warm sands.
Climbing to his feet in order to join in on the joy of living, he froze in place before taking even a single step. Watching in perplexity, Arkady witnessed the happiness leave their faces only to be replaced with terror. With all eyes on him, their faces contorted in fear, Arkady understood it was him they were afraid of.
The ground beneath his feet darkened and stretched itself out towards the families. He tried to control it, to stop it by strength of will, but it encroached upon them like a merciless juggernaut. When the shadow fell upon them, Arkady turned away suddenly in anguish. It was then when he realized it was not him that they feared, and the shadow was nothing but a shadow.
Rising directly in front of him was a massive tidal wave. It’s black waters blocking out the sun. The families panicked and screamed. Arkady stood unmoving. His apathy at last reaching it’s limit, he was filled with unbridled rage. Rage for everything, rage for everyone, for life, for death, for routine, for heartbreak, disappointment, monotony, rules, politeness, and lies. All of it. Screw it all.
For the first time in his life, he stood his ground. He swore he would never let anything push him around anymore, not fate, not people, nothing. “WHY WON’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?!”, he shouted with all his might. “FINE! YOU WANT ME?! COME AND GET ME!!!” All the years of pent-up anguish and pain came exploding through the fabric of his very being. It fueled him, empowered him, made him more than human.
Arkady braced himself and the tidal wave came crashing down upon his shoulders. The families were washed away like leaves down a sewer grate. Malevolent forces pulled and tugged at his body with the full fury of nature itself, but Arkady did not budge. He dug himself down and resisted with all his might as the tide shifted instantaneously, trying to throw him off his feet. He held on with all his strength while the blackness engulfed him and his lungs burned with the intense fire of suffocation. When the rushing waters receded, all were washed away. All but one. Arkady stood triumphant.
And yes, everything is themed to go together. Even this silly little line I put up on Facebook yesterday: The hardest part for someone who always runs, is when they finally decide to stop, and let their problems catch up with them.
Goodnight, readers. All six of you.
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