The End

Hey everyone!

Thanks for reading my short story Vermillion.

If it seemed disjointed it was because I was literally making it up week to week, sitting down on my laptop on my day off and spending an hour or two on continuing the story, not over anylizing it, just writing what I felt and then publishing it straight away so that I didn't change my mind.

It's a great way for me to practice. Aspiring writers are so hard on themselves, sometimes it's just nice to write for fun, trying to develop a story from an idea ( in this case it was the ending) and see how you can build it with not much preparation at all.

I am full of ideas, every day I wake up and I have some strange idea for a story that dreamt up in some nightmare. Then I ruin it by over thinking it or not having enough confidence, thinking that I can't do it justice.

So this was me writing the way I like to write, without restraint and not writing with anyone in mind but me. There may only be three of you sharing this with me but that is still an audience. Thank you.

There is an audience for everything and someday I would love to publish something I can share with the world. This was a great practice for me and I hope to share some more as well.

Tomorrow is the day when we can say  "I won't hold back"
 

Vermillion Part 6

6.

I weep for all the things that could have been. The waves that crash all around us were from an ocean so full of promise. I took my place swimming alongside the desperate humans gasping for air, even though I could breathe I drowned with them.

She hit the water and broke the silence with her weight. She sent the energy of her sorrow across the bay, I felt it, I held it and I created it. Is this what my family wanted from me? Every cell that is alive in me is burning with their absence. Like a man who can still feel the hand that he lost, they are ghosts within me. The only way I could keep living is by trying to destroy the memory of them, by expelling their essence the only way I knew how. We are all of one blood, we are made from the same being, so if I murder this world they too have the guilt, the guilt they didn’t feel before. I’m writing to you for the last time my friend. You, the only human that I ever truly saved, I fulfilled my obligation with you, you were meant to go on to do great things but instead the instrument of your redemption became the ultimate distraction from your destiny. Did I get it wrong? Were you meant to die for the world to be saved? That’s why I am still here. I am here because I didn’t let you die and they are gone because I stayed. 

Cairo sent all three letters to me at the same time. They all arrived on the Tuesday before it all happened. He was sitting in his arm chair when it happened; I know this because when I close my eyes I can see him. I see all his memories and I hear all his thoughts. They play like a film that I already saw, disjointed and out of focus, in a constant loop in my subconscious. I already knew what the letters said but reading them physically brought a finality to it. 

I could see his apartment curtains fly in the breeze, I could see the broken mirror in the bathroom and I could see him look down to his tired old hands as they trembled secretly. I heard the door open behind him and the footsteps enter the room. I heard the faint mutter of excuses and apologies, “thank yous” and empty promises. 

You’re going to help make the world a better place

We both smile and start laughing, manically. I was standing in the middle of a  crowded street and I couldn’t stop, even when I found it hard to breathe. I could see his long blonde hair fall over my eyes and I went to brush it away. I touched his face with my hand and we were connected. For that moment in time I knew everything. I knew about my destiny, I knew about his mission and how it went wrong. I reached out my hand to grab him and then.. 

BANG.

Everything went dark and I couldn’t see at all. All joy fell from me and I lost balance. I felt like a part me was ripped out violently. I touched the back of my head and felt a gaping wound that wasn’t really there. The blood was falling all over me and I wept, I wept for what could have been. 

It was instantaneous. I heard screaming, blood curdling terror everywhere. I was finally regaining my sight and I kept seeing flashes of horrible violence. I started to run toward the bridge. 

I saw men and women tearing each other apart, I saw a man rip off his own arm and start eating it. I saw horrors that sent every cell in my body mad. The images started to slow down and change direction, they were guiding me somewhere.

201a Flynn Street. 

I stood at the door too afraid to go in. My mind wouldn’t let me hide and I saw it all. It sent me back another ten minutes to before the sound. 

Stacey was lying almost comatose on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, dreaming someone else’s dreams. While a sluggish man fell all over her, dripping his sweat on her unassuming body. She was somewhere beautiful in the moment, the horrors that he put her through were never going to touch her. Suddenly her body shudders underneath him and her back arches to the roof. The Man pushes her away and off the bed and her body falls to the ground with a thud. He inspects the body after she stops convulsing. No pulse. He seems freaked out at first and then frustrated. 

Damn junkie!

Hey! I want my monies worth!

 He shouts to the other room. 

 

Stacey’s eyes burst open with fire. She starts to scream like an animal that has gone rabid. She thrashes around and smacks herself against the wall. She turns slowly toward the man who is trying to put his pants back on. Blood and drool pour from her mouth and the terrified look on the man’s face doesn’t register. Every cell in her body is dead. She ingested Cairo’s blood and she became him for those few blissful hours each day. Now that he is gone she is literally dead inside, the rage her body feels without her soul creates a hunger. 

A hunger that is only satisfied one way, with violence. 

A thousand soulless creatures now roam the city, crying out with the same voice, crying out in pain for their loss. Cairo burns in their eyes and pours from them into their hands. The sound of a distant world dying echoes in my ears constantly. Millions of people crying in despair as a part of them falls away. 

This was meant to be the longest suicide note ever written but I finally understand. I am meant to fight. I am meant to fight for the souls they lost. I have barricaded myself in Cairo’s apartment with a few survivors I find each day. We are trying to keep our humanity amongst the insanity. What we are able to do and the strength we can find once we trust each other and hold each other is amazing. There is still hope for us.

Only after we have lost everything and confronted our own weakness can we truly rebuild ourselves. We can make him proud of us.

His mission was to save us, he failed.

Now we must save ourselves.

The End.

Vermillion part 5

He lights a cigarette and walks back to his “office” under the bridge. The line has grown longer and the patrons are growing restless. This is his life now. No longer interested in saving anyone, Cairo appears to be facilitating their self-destruction. He notices the sadness that dwells deep inside, the darkest self-loathing that builds like mucus in their tear ducts and pools in the corner of their eye. It affects them like a poison, makes them do terrible things, just to stop the pain. He inhales the putrid substance into his lungs and leans against the wall.

Is that what I am doing?

 

Am I trying to stop the pain of my own loneliness by taking advantage of these people? I don’t care about their money, I just want to get rid of as much of this stuff inside my veins that won’t let me forget, won’t let me block out every single face that was so eager to never see me again.

Alone amongst over seven billion people.

They are empty, every single one of them, they can hold my burden for a little while. They can carry it on their shoulders until the weight becomes too much for them and they come crashing to the floor. I’ll pile them all on top of one another and when there is enough, I will climb that mountain all the way to the heavens and demand my way in again.

I will bleed myself dry before I accept myself as one of them.

His cigarette rips and he realizes that a tear has fallen from his eyes. This is not truly where he wants to be. He needs to be alone with his thoughts. He disregards the two men in suits parked in a nearby car; they have been following him since he got to the house.

Your experiment is going fine boys, by the numbers and off the books.

He heads to the erotic district to find himself a couple of able bodied humans. Maybe witnessing a moment of passion will ignite some compassion inside him again. It’s hard to find love amongst all of this filth but passion is always there. How much can fifty dollars buy? Can it buy humanity some dignity? I doubt it.

The fittest man he could fine and the prettiest girl he could get without a bruise on her face, was the best he could do for now. They walked in silence back to his apartment. They asked him what he wanted, did he want to watch or participate? He just sat at his writing desk and pulled out the top drawer, inside were three sheets of paper and a pen. They shrugged and found a comfortable spot on the window and started their display of passion. He started to write the final letter that I ever received. He told me about a young woman who he supplied the drug with and how she took her own life. He seemed to envy her because he knew that at the moment she leapt she was at peace and it was through a memory of his, a peace that he could never obtain with the same pictures in his mind. He hated them all so much but he hated himself more.

It becomes clear to me now that he never meant to hurt anyone. He watched over us for so long and then became so disgusted with our behavior, he gave up. Like a father who is eternally disappointed with his children, he gave up on us. More than that, he knew that his entire world gave up on him and left him here knowing that he would never succeed. He tried to force them out of himself and even then we found a way to use this as an opportunity for ourselves.

The prostitutes left the room and the men in suits were already there waiting for him to be alone. They found a way to synthesize his blood into a controlled substance that they code named “vermillion”. They devised a clever way to dilute it in drinking water and use it to immobilize their enemies in mass to make a hostile takeover less messy.

I have followed Cairo since he landed twelve years ago. Just outside Perth, Western Australia. He saved my life and I told the government about him. I thought it was too important to keep to myself, I can’t blame it on the head wound I received after the crash; I wanted to be the man who discovered Earth’s first alien visitor. They pushed me into a car, then onto a plane and then dumped me in Texas. I’ve been looking for him ever since. He always knew how to find me, he never hated me. He knew I was the only one who knew who he really was.

He was the hero we never deserved.

Now we are at the abyss we dug for ourselves, looking over at the end.

It started with a bang.

Vermillion Part 4

4.

What started out as a means to an end, has now turned into a crude experiment on the human condition. The line was blurred when he intervened in the altercation with the young girl and now the line has disappeared. He has thrown away everything that he once believed in and has gone into the business. His name is the only thing he carries with him now. After roaming the earth, comforted by his extreme arrogance, he lorded over the lesser people like a serene being. Now he is down there with them, in the dark, sweaty underworld, where all the people scratch at their skin and wait for their fix

.

His name is Cairo and he will fix them all. 

They never get enough. Under this bridge I could sit for hours and there would be a steady influx of people. Sometimes the same person will come twice or three times after their supply has run out. I’m surrounded by lost and lonely people who are curled up on top of a mound of filth, shaking in the cold air. They look so desperately woeful but deep in their eyes you can catch a glimpse of the sun that they are seeing. In their mind they are touched by the warmth and they are running through the hills that I loved as a boy. They can see my family’s cottage and they can smell the sweetest smells of world I left behind, men have starved to death in such a trance. I sell it for twenty five dollars a pop. 

It’s not hard to extract blood when you don’t feel any pain. I have a hundred little vials to fill and the junkies supply the rest. They don’t care what the blue liquid is made of; they would literally put anything in their bodies just to feel some relief from the pain of being themselves. They can look through another mirror. They can see me looking back at them, a vision of me when I was strong. Every shot they take they ingest the best part of me. My memories, my love and my joy, the things I do not require anymore. It has been too long since I have been away. I don’t believe in anything anymore, accept my mission. I can’t save them, they destroy themselves faster when you try to show them the way, so I’m fixing them

.

Don’t think less of me, you sent me here alone. 

 

Cairo sleeps there now, under the bridge. He doesn’t go back to his home. He knows that the scientists have it under surveillance. They know exactly what he is doing but they want to see how far it goes, how much it can change. They will figure out how to synthesize it soon and perfect it, turn it into a weapon. They have a world full of test subjects and one man who has become so completely indifferent to human suffering, he facilitates it. No one could take him lower. It has been three weeks and the whole town is a buzz with word about the new super drug on the streets, the one that lets you see another world, the one that stops time, the drug that takes years away from your mind. You could be sitting on a chair and staring at the wall for three days straight, completely unresponsive and you would only have been exploring the world inside your eyes for an hour. You are catatonic, you can’t see or hear or move.

It didn’t take long for everyone to discover the effects, not just the users but the abusers, the opportunists. An overweight man approaches Cairo in the late afternoon, asking to speak to him about an opportunity. He is wearing a nice suit badly and he is sweating so much the grey material looks brown. His comb over hair style is ridiculous but his watch is very high in value. This is the kind of man you know spends all his money on chance and women, at the same time. He offers Cairo one hundred thousand dollars to supply a large amount of the drug to certain young women in his neighborhood. He has two lists, one with the women’s names and addresses and another with a list of business associates and their bank account details. He wants to take advantage of the catatonic state that the users are left in, in the worst way.

Cairo looks at this man straight into his eyes. His smile bleeds over his sluggish face and he tries to look away. Cairo starts to imagine all the gloriously grotesque things he could do to him and how much pain he could reflect in his soul. Then he looks down at his arms and all the marks left by the needle he uses to extract. A tear wells inside him and it dries before it leaves his eye. 

There are no more rescues left

He takes the first list and nods to the business man. 

May the sun have mercy on the way I burn. 

The first name on the list is;

Stacey Brunt 201a Flynn Street. 

He makes his first house call. She resists at first throwing herself around her apartment but then she falls deeper than anyone he has ever seen. She falls hard onto the floor. Cairo lifts her up gently and places her in her bed. He says a prayer for the light that she sees to drown out the darkness she feels. The sweet death of her innocence will show only on her skin not her soul. She will never know.

The first client makes his way toward the room. Cairo looks down on him and warns him not to hurt her. The man looks back at him with no fear and says

No one can hurt her more than you have my friend. 

Cairo leaves the apartment and tries to saturate himself in the memory he left behind;

A young man of eighteen stands at the edge of a launching platform, surrounded by the people of his village and his family, they all look at him with love and admiration. He has been studying for years to be a traveler and he doesn’t want anything else in his life except to explore the distant beauty of the universe.

His one man ship, sits next to him, a magnificent sphere shaped, high speed space shuttle in a metallic royal blue sheen. The lights around the rim shimmer in the twilight of the three moons. Their orange hue warms the faces of everyone in the crowd.

He has been chosen out of hundreds of others to venture forth to new worlds and spread their world’s message of peace and strength. He will save the lives of people so alien to him and he will know a single happiness known only by the traveler. His father encourages him to do this as his father did before him. Cairo will go further than any of them have gone before. He will be alone but the collected memories of his entire world run through every cell of his body and once he looks within himself he will be at peace.

His father kisses him on the forehead and lets him know how proud of him he is. He wishes him luck and courage. Cairo assures him that he will conduct himself with compassion and strength and he will guide whomever he encounters toward the light

He says to the crowd;

I will save them, I will comfort them but we will show them the way. 

And with a roar of applause he lifted off and drifted off into infinity. 

This was the happiest and saddest day of his life. So alone he is, physically detached to all he loves but mentally drowning in the extended sorrow of his loss.

He can’t find his way back. They won’t show him the way.

Vermillion Part 3

3. 

 

I got here around three pm, after answering questions at the local police station for a few very tedious hours; I managed to convince Detective Ford that his hand was melting onto the table. He could hear it searing and popping and could see his flesh disintegrate. The insanity of the situation was quite interesting but all it proved is that I now belong to a special group of people known affectionately as “freaks”

So I’m sitting in a cold concrete room with one chair and no desk. I have handcuffs on; they put them on me to make themselves feel in control. I let them think that this created an equal ground. I’m growing tired of this. I’m thinking of all the things I could be doing and all the people I could be helping. I’m thinking about the little girl who lost her mind somewhere beautiful and I have decided I am not going to tell them what really happened. If they don’t know who they are dealing with when true evil stands right in front of them, then they don’t deserve to be saved. 

I can hear the door opening. There will be three men in perfectly ironed black suits. They won’t ask questions, they have seen the test results. I am sitting in a room in the middle of the desert. I know this because I can feel the strength of the sun bouncing off the concrete in the walls. They are wheeling in the medical cart. I will fall into myself until this is over. Then we will talk. 

A young boy is running through the deep and dark woods. Vibrant shades of purple and blue surround him and the trees engulf everything around him. He knows exactly where he is going, he has explored the same route since he was just old enough to walk . This place is magical to him. Frightening and mystifying all at once. He is home here and nothing can touch him. He reaches the end of the wood and the bright white light that spills over the shrubs makes the colours look like they are bleeding over a painting. He spills out into the open and stares up at the vast orange sky. 

His parents are calling to him from the small cottage just metres away. He is too busy watching the fantastic ships sprawling in the sky. Their destination is unknown and like birds they glide over one another in a dance that is hypnotizing. 

“Cairo! It’s time for supper, come back inside son”

His mother’s voice echoes sweetly in his mind and he comes back to the ground. How he longs to explore what is beyond the orange sky and behind the three moons in the dark. He steps out onto the grass and has a sudden uneasy feeling like something is escaping him; that something is suddenly missing. He looks at his right arm, in the middle of his elbow bend and notices the pain.

What is happening?

He looks to the sky again and focuses on the bright white sun. He closes his eyes.

The prisoner opens his eyes.

We can talk now.

The well suited men want to take some more tests. They want to know why my blood creates such a strong chemical reaction; they want to know why it has the molecular structure of a strong hallucinogenic. They will never understand. I didn’t come here to talk them through it; I came here to help them.

I am so tired, tired in mind and body. I can only watch them eat each other whole for so long before I hand them a plate. Let’s see how far this goes.

Let’s see how far through the orange sky they fall. 

He watches them harvest it. He watches them colour it and dehydrate it. He watches them package it and discuss how to test it. All from the same chair in the same concrete dungeon. His long blonde hair hanging in front of his eyes and sticking to his cheeks, his deep blue eyes fixed on the steel door and what is going on behind it, 

Human tests, he hears.

 

Young subjects. 

He breaks the handcuffs in half. The head doctor attempts to make a deal with him in exchange for his co-operation; the free air for quiet and unlimited access to his knowledge.

He makes his way to the door and uses his legs for the first time in six months. He doesn’t lose balance and his strength never wavers. He approaches the steel door and as It opens the white light floods his entire world, 

The sky falls down on him.