The Rot

  THE ROT

  Kipp Poe Speicher

  Copyright © 2011 by Kipp Poe Speicher

  Kindle Edition

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  The Rot

  The sunlight invaded the darkness of the room through the broken blinds. The ray of sunlight found its place on the eyelid of Jack as he leaves the warmth of the dream into the reality of the cold and lonely world.

  Jack raises his hand to knock the sleep out of it while shaking it out of numbness. Outside his door he hears the cry of a baby and the couple right down the hall screaming at each other again.

  He brushes the blanket off his bed, relieving his legs of the entanglement. He moves across the one-room apartment to the bathroom to start the shower and prays that today he has some hot water.

  He steps out of his boxer shorts. As they fall to the floor he reaches to turn the rusted knob on the shower. The pipes behind the wall vibrate and bang against the mildew- covered tiles. For a brief moment all that slurs out of the shower head is a stale burst of air; then the water sputters, then shoots its way falling towards the floor of the stall.

  Jack jumps in, feeling the water drill into his skin. The water remains cold as he should have figured. Reaching for the shampoo, he pops the cap, and the room fills with an unbearable aroma.

  Jack starts to gag from the smell. It reeks as if the bottle holds the remains that have been swept off the floor of a slaughter house and let sit to permeate in the hot sun. The stench of decomposition starts to even taint his skin.

  He throws the shower curtain aside and jumps out of the stall, running across the apartment dripping wet. He throws the window open to let the cold winter air breathe through the room. The air outside was just as atrocious. Everywhere he turns, all he can smell is the rotting.

  Jack turns from the window. Now shivering and naked, he falls to his knees. With all his might he fights it, but then he finally gives in to the stench and vomits uncontrollably while feeling his body tensing up and then giving over and over.

  After about three minutes, he finds his way back to his feet, looking for some sweat pants to put on. He finds the strength to put on his coat, then he doubles over, once more feeling every ounce of energy flying out between his teeth as the acid burns his now-raw throat.

  With spittle hanging from his chin, he shoves his way to the door, praying the stench won’t follow him into the hall since he will have 23 flights of stairs to fight his way down to get to a cab.

  Knocking the door open, he finds that the hall is crawling with all the neighbors he has spent so much time avoiding, each of them squirming in their own vomit trying to find refuge in any corner, looking for a hidden location of fresh air.

  On the street sits a black van with a white-haired man behind the wheel and a clipboard resting on it as he fills out the paper work. "Looks like everything went well." He looks into the review mirror and watches the two men in jumpsuits strap on the new canisters for the next stop.

  As the driver turns to put the van into drive, his cell phone chirps. He pulls out into traffic and flips the phone open. "Yeah, the Straffen tower’s done. The infection took over the tower in minutes. We’re on are way to hit the tower in Highland before the news gets a hold of the story." As he turns the van down the side alley, the bright morning sun takes his sight, so he reaches to pull down the sun visor.

  "Yeah, my two men are ready to hit the next one. They’re poisoning the water supply and air vents. The trash won’t know what hit them. 15 minutes from now they will be drowning in their own vomit."

  "Yes, sir. This will take a bite out of those unemployment stats for next year’s election.” The van pulls up in front of the tower and the two men exit and move like ghosts infiltrating the building. "Yes, sir. The sympathy card will be in play with these terrorist attacks. We have a bright future together. "

  Must stop this shaking.

  If she feels me shaking, she will once more awake.

  Must not wake her.

  Why must this deed be done?

  Delaying it will only make it worse.

  My blood is ice cold; this shiver runs completely through my body.

  Look at her lie there.

  The curtains dance in the warm summer night breeze.

  Her chest rises and falls with each breath.

  Each breath my body craves to share with her.

  Dread is all that fills me now.

  Time has marched forward and taken the only beauty and hope in my life and viciously tore it apart.

  We first met many seasons ago.

  Struck up a friendship and bonded.

  That unfortunately was muddled by previous commitments we both had with someone else.

  So we faded away from each other.

  That decision filled my life for many years with nothing but regrets: watching trees push away their withered leaves only to embrace the next season; searching and waiting until that one day when the grace of angels led me once again to meet. . .

  My love that now lies before me.

  We took to each other like wild animals.

  Fate brought us back together.

  We must never again leave each other’s side again.

  Although those Angels must be laughing at me now because what they leave me with is no choice.

  This must be done.

  Morning brings a golden sun that warms and evaporates the dew on the grassy path that we travel together.

  Both of us knows what lays at the end of this dreadful journey.

  To the river, to the willow tree, to the spot where we once again found each other and pledged our undying love and never to be separated from one another again.

  She wanted to lie once more under the tree and embrace in each other’s love.

  To share in the space of the wild lilies that crave the rays of sunlight that scatter through the gentle movement of the leaves.

  She looks up with tears forming in her eyes. “The time is now,” she whispers for only me and the wind to hear.

  Choking back her tears, her eyes now fill with a begging and a promise she knows will never be broken. “Remember me, I will always remember you.”

  She is quiet and still.

  For me, it is a dreadful slumber.

  For her, it is no more drugs that made her vomit and cringe in agony.

  The brutal pain, the shear torture, the total sickness has now ended.

  She now walks with those angels that, for a second time, brought us together.

  Now facing the consequences for what my tortured soul has done, one can only hope that in the end “our” third time will be the charm.

  Die Already

  My life is much darker these days. Little light penetrates the grimness of my soul. How can I explain it? Where do I start without sounding like a lunatic? I call it a curse, but some people call it a gift.

  I was only eight. It was one of those hot humid summer days when the air is so humid it’s difficult to breathe. My best friend Rudy and I decided to go fishing -- or what we thought was fishing, since we learned later that the little silver fish we had our hearts set on catching were actually bait for the bigger guys. Never the less, we headed down to Quiet Creek with and our poles and my favorite tackle box (a gift from my grandpa), chocked full of bobbers, weights, and lures.

  Needless to say, with lures twice the size of the small fry we did not hook
any of them. Much to our horror, what did latch onto my eight-hook lure was a glistening emerald green frog with dappled brown spots. As it wriggled and struggled to break free, the hook dug deeper into its neck. It entangled itself in the line and looked so helpless with every panicked lurch. By the time I got close enough to try and dislodge the hook, its underbelly was ripped wide open and its entrails fell out. Rudy and I totally freaked out. We cut the line and ran home.

  The following day we returned. The frog was half eaten away with the hook still speared through its upper torso, but to our amazement it was looking up at us blinking its eyes. How could this frog still be alive? Why wouldn’t it die?

  Throughout my life these strange unexplainable events heightened. It was futile to try and kill even the most disgusting of insects that landed on me. I would smash their bodies with the swift impact of my hand. But even though their mangle bodies appeared lifeless, I would see them twitch weeks later.

  One day on my way to school I hit a dog with my car. I messed it up horrifically. His body was strewn all over the road in a smear of crimson, fur, and guts. I began to pick up what was left of his body that sweltered in the morning sun. As I scraped his head off of the pavement, he looked directly up at me; his tongue trying to lick me as blood oozed from his mouth. There was no reason in the world why he should still be alive. Later that night I went down into the basement and emptied an old toy box I had as a child. I placed the remains of the dog into the box and dragged it out into the field where I buried it in a shallow grave.

  I should have put more effort into digging the hole deeper because to this day on soft quiet summer nights, I can hear that damn dog whimpering from that grave even with years of growth covering it.

  As time passed, I became more aware of this curse and tried to avoid people the best I could. I shut myself away from the world. I worried about what would happen if I was out in public and someone was torn to shreds in a car accident when I was present? Would they too not die?

  It’s been almost three years since I met Samantha. I was delivering cleaning supplies to the local high school in town. After signing in at the main office, I headed toward the warehouse. All of a sudden the deafening sound of the fire alarm sounded.

  I freaked out. Everyone filled the halls pushing and shoving while trying to make their way to an exit. A young lady lost her balance and fell back into me. I raised my hand and placed it in the small of her back. I felt the warmth and softness of her skin through her faded Counting Crows concert shirt. She turned her head and glanced at me. I was left breathless. Her sky blues eyes had me floating in them. She reached around and took my hand into hers and from that very moment she changed my life forever.

  We began talking over the phone. And although I wanted to take her out, my fear of crowds kept me at bay. She never quite understood why I feared being around a lot of people. I just couldn’t tell her what a freak I am. So I chose to wait, and thankfully one day she decided to visit.

  _________

  Last night brought violent skies as Samantha came stumbling into my house. It was a sound that will forever haunt my waking moments and twilight. Her delicate body slapped against the steps falling viciously down into the dank-cold cellar. There she laid at the bottom of the steps in the dark.

  I flew down the steps knowing that no matter what I did I could never end what she was experiencing. Her neck was broken and her skin was already turning into shades of purple. She looked like a rag doll with her head twisted upward while the rest of her body lay in a contorted mass.

  Taking her into my arms I smelled alcohol on her; maybe that is what was keeping her from feeling any pain? Blood painted her lips a dark crimson as it began to leave her body. Her eyes flickered open and gazed at me. With confusion painted across her face, she tried to speak, but all she could do was make a gasping noise as her words searched for breath to form. As I gave her a hug, she tried to form words with her last breathe. I pushed closer into her body. Her voice was nothing more than delicate whispered gasps. “Why am I still alive? Let me die.” I began to cry. This was my love’s last request and I know I cannot fulfill it.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. The eyes I cherished from the moment I saw them. The eyes that glowed with a feeling of belonging and connection were now filled with pain and no matter what I did the glimmer began to diminish until it left her eyes forever.

  The morning came and sunlight slowly crept its way down the cellar steps. Samantha was still laying in the pool of blood staring up at me grinding her teeth, pleading with me to end the suffering.

  What could be done? Her heart was not beating. Ripping open her cold body in the hope she would die would not solve the problem. She just continued to lay there -glaring at me wondering why I was so fucking cruel.

  Calling the authorities would not have helped matters. They would have definitely put me away either way. I knew they would eventually come looking for her. My only hope was that maybe my own death would bring peace to her and the others I left in this tortured state of ‘in between’.

  ______________

  Climbing the steps, the warmth of the sunlight caresses my skin. In the kitchen I take a bottle of wine off the rack. The dark lavender colored glass creates flashes of illumination across the walls as the rays filter through the liquid libation. I grab the corkscrew off the counter and head back down to the darkness of the cellar. Popping the cork brings attention to my arrival. Samantha’s teeth start grinding, and she struggles to open her mouth as her bloated purple tongue flops out.

  Splashing droplets of wine upon her tongue, I see a fleeting moment of satisfaction cross her lips as she laps it up. Taking a swig myself, I let the flavor coat my taste buds. The fruits and nectars that gave their life for us will live on as we savor them for a lifetime.

  I plunge the corkscrew into my arm, twisting and shoving the curved metal deep into a vain. As I thrust it farther it takes on a life-like serpentine appearance, worming its way under my skin and creating ripples as it dives ever deeper.

  Samantha’s eyes start to flicker. She looks at me inquisitively. As I bend over and kiss her forehead, I rip the corkscrew from my flesh. Blood sprays from the open gape in my arm. The sound of my blood pounding onto the concrete floor is deafening as it intertwines with her pool of blood. My vision begins to blur and halos of color weave their way around objects that are bathed in sunlight. My body stiffens as a bitter cold sets in. I black out.

  Fuck, it did not work. I am still here. And as I lay stiff over Samantha’s chest unable to move, I hear her grinding her teeth, pleading – begging to Die Already.

  I awake in total darkness. I cannot move. My body is pressed hard against this structure. I feel as if I’m going to suffocate. As I struggle, the structure I’m entombed in sways back and forth. I can hear the sound of water as it slowly drips, and I can smell the scent of lilacs.

  Every muscle in my body starts to ache. I’m trying to move, trying to break free. My body is gripped with pain. Claustrophobia is setting in, and I start to hyperventilate. I’m losing consciousness…

  I awake again and notice the tightness of the structure is even more binding than before. It is crushing me. Is it shrinking? Or am I growing? I feel my body begin to morph as my skin begins to leak secretions. The walls of my cell become damp with this sweet yet sour, smelling pus as it pours out of my skin. The structure begins to give way as the pus eats its way through the walls. Streaks of daylight invade my eyes, drilling in like lightning bolts. How long have I been here? The darkness is no more.

  As my eyes adjust to the daylight, the cool morning breeze flows through the openings in my cell. The walls start to flake and descend. I find myself hanging upside down as I finally gain physical control over the rest of my body. As I shake and stretch, the structure separates from me and falls to the ground. I release my grip and start to free-fall. As the wind blows, I catch onto it and I frantically ascend back into the air in a fluttering, uncontrollable motion.

>   The wind whips me into many different directions. One moment it is pushing me towards the earth, and the next, it is whipping me back into the sky. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a blur of a hand reaching out to snatch me out of the air. The force of the breeze from a child’s hand throws me into a whirlwind of flight as the pursuit rages on. As the earth below changes from a soft, grassy green surface to a concrete grey, I feel a force alter my flight, pulling me into a horizontal slipstream in the opposite direction.