Transition

Alex

by Kenneth Burch


I push forward as I make my way through the crowded streets filled with lowlifes and idiots. I push aside the ugly and weak, the soft and frail, the housed and homeless. I stare down at those smaller then me and spit at those my size. There is a stench to these weak freaks, and it makes me want to puke. How could this have happened? This lifeless fruit bowl of human waste, gathered together for some simple minded cause?

A woman pushes a smaller version of herself in some kind of wheeled contraption designed by a fool of sorts. The little one looks at me and for a moment, I think itís mocking me. I turn to it, seeing its small face and tiny hands and with a glance, I fix it, fix that little shit of a creature for good. There will be a scream fixed in the mouth of its mother for all time and that small thought, brings a smile.

These idiots running through life, like fleas on a dirty dog makes me sick. I stare at them, mostly to see their dying faces and grin at the irony of it all. This place is such a waste, for those creatures among it. Thereís an old man sitting in an alleyway drinking his liver to death. What is his problem? What should I care? I walk over to him anyway and kick him in the face. He grunts and coughs before puking and begs me to spare him, what a fucking joke. I look down on this mindless defenseless shit and do him a much needed favor, I stomp him to death.

More fools, more idiots. The crowd keeps coming like hornets and bees, sucking for honey and nectar. These smelly creatures breed faster then roaches and I wonder for the life of me why? Painting their faces and branding their skin, changing their appearance and still no win. They are weak, and weak creatures die quickly at the hands of the strong.

What is this mass of mess, I find myself forced to walk through? Why must I be among these diseased homo sapiens? Iíve got questions of my own damn it! Instead of finding a sensible solution, Iíve chosen the only solution. I find them defects of nature, confused and misguided. To associate myself with these insects, is to given in to this madness of reasoning. I wonít do it! I wonít allow myself to be among the filth of these living creatures.

Look at them. They walk in different directions at once. Mindless and controllable, they are. Such simple rules they live by, and yet break them all the time. Love, Hate, Terror and Fear are theyíre own beetles of emotion, they base everything around them. Fire water in a glass, gives them strength for a short period of time, then they are once more amongst the filthy living. Climbing the impossible and forever reaching for that beyond their filthy little minds.

Over there, aside from the rest, are two. They sit inside a metal and glass box and touch each other. Sometimes, I watch them, working their mating magic on each other. All that sticky finger poking and slurping sounds, base their reasoning. What now? Now, that their humping fun has come to a slow stride? Well, mostly they sit and talk, chat about their useless lives and powerless ambitions. Some just walk away, as if the need no longer attracts or holds them.

I hate them! They are sick and inhuman beast of a decaying world born of a simple plan. Modern madness has given them no hope, no chance at redemption. They walk amongst the towering hives of metal and glass comfort. Lead fire stones project from weapons used to fix many of their mindless problems. How many of them had I killed? Ten, maybe fifteen thousand over the course of six years. I enjoy doing it, it brings me pleasure and to speak the truth, they want it, want it a lot.

I was just about to look for more to kill when a strange thing happened. There was a bright white ball glowing from a trash bin, behind a store. I kicked a few people out of my way and pushed one man into the street, where an oncoming taxi struck and killed him, I love that sound of crunching bone and flesh, but right now my attention was on that glowing ball. A male figure big and black walked pass me and I punched him in the face, his heart stopped and he dropped to the ground, spitting up blood in his final moments alive. They were like packs of wolves moving in for a closer look, all staring, all pointing, all making no sense.

I left the stinking group of mindless idiots and fools, and made my way to the glowing ball. I donít remember how many I killed getting to it. But I ceased to find them entertaining anymore. There was a low pitch humming sound coming from the trash can, where that glowing ball had now been floating above. I could see the inside spinning and changing colors. There was some sort of static charge surrounding it and igniting a field of light around it. I lifted my hand to touch it and a high pitch sound burned my ears and tossed me backwards, my head hitting the pavement. I shook off the daze and noticed that ball had left the trash can and traveled over to where I sat wondering.

My ears were ringing again and I couldn't help notice that one of my legs had been broken and twisted backwards. There was a sense of excitement, as I reached once more for the glowing ball. Miniature sparks of lighting escaped the ball and shot out towards me, striking me in the face and chest. My eyes began to bleed and there was a hole in my chest, the size of a basketball. The pain was beyond description and I can only imagine, it was like near death. I placed my hand in the pool of blood now surrounding me and tried to stand up. The leg, broken and twisted fell off and landed making a thud sound. I tried to wipe away at the blood continuously forming in my eyes. Behind me sat a mound of flesh and organ tissue draped in blood.

More high pitched sounds and blinding light forced its way inward through my ears and eyes, cutting away at me from the insides. Fragments of bone and blood pushed outward, ripping through flesh and outer skin. I spat blood and soon felt as if a lung was making its way upward through my mouth. The pain was unbearable and it took every bit of, what little there was left inside me, to hold it together.

I opened my one eye that still had use and looked upon my matted form of skin and bloody bones. The ball remained fixed and its plasma field of light and sound stopped. I was begging now, begging it all to end and was cursing my desires and my obvious mistakes. With what little left of a mind, I screamed out, in silence.

Iím sitting on a park bench in the afternoon. The summer sunís rays rain down on me and I see the ice man selling snow cones to the children, just across the street. A woman is walking with her dog and she waves to a mailman who has double parked. To the North, a little boy on a blue bicycle has peddled past the candy shop, on his way to the ball park. He is following his older brother, who has promised to let him pitch. A little girl wearing a pink dress, play hopscotch with her cousin, they giggle when one falls and the sound catches the attention of an old woman beating her rug outside, her window.

A young couple stroll pass and I catch a smell of her perfume. Ever so sweet it is and I smile at the pleasures she must have. The boyfriend holds her closely around the waist and slowly lowers his hand. It comes close to touching her backside, and she pushes it away smiling, and a little embarrassed. She reaches over kissing him on the cheek, as they cross the street.

There are things here, many things. We have lived for a very long time and have only now, understood it all. We live, and love, we give and we take as we make our way of uncertainty through the chambers of life. What an odd and wonderful place this is, filled with such wonders of pleasures and pain.

Leaning back, I place my face to the sun and close my eyes. I can feel the warmth and it feels good. I make my way through this cycle of life and hope that I can be different. I hope to love again and find my way through, this madhouse of birth and death. Wish me luck.

The End?