• Presence


    A strange day.

    That was what Dante thought as he wandered down one of New York’s busy streets. Why he thought so, he didn’t know, for nothing out of the usual had happened. Yet.

    He tugged the leatherjacket tighter around himself, a shiver running up his spine.He had the strangest feeling; it was as if someone was staring at him. He threw a quick look over his shoulder, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Only the same busy New York denizens who hurried back and forth just like yesterday and the day before that and all the other days before.

    It repeated itself, time after time – the pain; did it never END?


    It was like a catastrophic unending symphony that just repeated itself time after time, only in a slight change of tone than before. But none of the notes fit each other. All was different, and only lasted for a fragment of a second of the symphony. Notes and tones and words and everyone understood nothing and none understood anything. t was tiresome to listen to.

    Sounds, sounds, sounds and BANG! silence.


    “Are you lost? SQUAWK! Are you lost?”

    Dante turned around, and came face to face with a huge blue parrot. It stared intently at him, with a frightening intelligent twinkle in its dark eyes. He focused his eyes on the entrance to the pet store behind the parrot, just to avoid having to stare back into its sharp glare. It was the kind of look that chopped holes into skulls, - saw all, read all, understood all.

    “I haven’t. But who is it that left you outside of the store?” He said, more to himself than the parrot.

    "You’re lost! SQUAWK! You can’t fool me!” Dante sent the animal an annoyed look. “Quiet you.” It seemed the parrot didn’t liked being hushed on, for it tried to bite his finger. Luckily for the finger, Dante managed to pull his hand away from the strong, sharp beak.

    Fingers which falls off, fingers which bleed. O, pain, pain, pain; excruciating pain.


    “Stop such nonsense! SQUAWK! If you’re lost, just enter here, and you’ll find your way, no matter where it is – SQUAWK – you belong.”

    “What the...” He couldn’t help it, but he found himself staring at the parrot in disbelief. It didn’t sound as if it was just repeating words and sentences that its owner had taught it. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d say the bird could actually communicate on equal grounds as himself, except maybe slightly more insane.

    Less insane? More sane? Perhaps more aware than the rest of the world.


    No matter how much he tried to convince himself that the parrot was only very well trained to lure in customers, his curiosity reared its ugly head, and it won’t lay down again for a nap.

    Curiosity killed the cat.


    He screamed and cried, threatened and pleaded, negotiated and begged. But nothing made his curiosity disappear. It demanded him to walk through the door, to see what was hiding there. Don’t you want to see where you belong? It lured. And he wanted to. Why? Who? When? Where?

    Before he knew it, he had his hand on the doorhandle. He pressed it down, and pushed the door. It squeaked. A small bell rang and he was met by a wide, wrinkly smile.

    The curiosity, the smile, the darkness, the pain, the blood...


    Future


    It was a beautiful day.

    Lillith smiled happily while she straightened her nice, new fur coat. It wasn’t made of real fur, but of the kind of false fur that you buy when you can’t afford a real one, but have dreamt of owning a fur coat since you were little after seeing grandma’s pretty, soft mink coat.

    Animal hater. Murderer.


    She threw her long, red hair over her shoulders, a light smile spreading across her porcelain-smooth facial features. The high heels clicked against the ground below her. The noise in New York suited her perfectly. It let her know that she was indeed in New York City! Now she could fulfil all of her dreams. The opportunities was simply buzzing around her.

    The quiet chocked her, the smell – O god, the smell! – nausea hit, the stomach protested, the taste; and everything came up.


    A tone disappeared into the air, before it was accompanied by other tones. Humming, yes; that was something she loved. She always imagined that the notes flew up into the air and danced for her.

    Burned feet, scorching shoes. Dance! Dance! Dance! And she danced. Like the steph -mother of Snow White, she danced.


    Lightly she stepped into the store. A sweet smile to the lady behind the counter, and straight to the hat department. And there, there it was! A beautiful hat, with a peacock feather on the side and a long red silk thread wrapped around it. It was made of a beautiful fabric of the most gorgeous red she'd ever seen.

    Gray walls with red splashed upon them. Why had some of it turned a muddy brown?


    She gave the money to the lady, smiled and thanked her before leaving the little store, just as lightly as she had entered. The hat she had placed nicely over the red hair. Again she hummed while she walked, pressed between the busy citizens of New York, convinced that she was content with the noisy streets.

    Screams, yells, shrieks, torture, noise. Silence. She thinks she’s losing her mind.


    “SQUAWK! Are you lost again?” She jumped sky-high, the humming stopped mid-tone, and she turned around so violently that her hat almost fell off. “N- No! I have not!”

    The beautiful blue parrot sent her a stabbing look. “You weren't very honest the last time we met..”

    A scream filled with so much pain that it cut through her like a knife. Who did it belong to? O yes... It was hers.


    No, - SQUAWK! – you aren't.“ She gave a breath of relief of those words. Was it possible to hear something so wonderful? “SQUAWK! But if you get lost again – SQUAWK! – then you know where to go. You always get lost... Naughty, naughty, disobedient children.”

    A chill ran down her spine. Fear filled every bone in her body. She nodded to the parrot, before turning around to walk on to her apartment, adrenalin pumped through her blood, and she started running. She lost her hat, but didn’t dare turn around to get it.

    The curiosity, the smile, the darkness, the pain, the blood...


    Past


    A peculiar day.

    Three people strode down one of New York’s busy streets. It was a cold, clear autumn day. Two were heading back home from work, to their apartments which resided in this exact this busy street. Another man was also heading home, home to his pet store; for he lived in the small house along with his beloved animals.

    Loved them! Beautiful, beautiful, and they bled so nicely...


    Two of them shared the same fate; and one of them wanted to fulfil them. For this old man, wanted to show them where their home was. Where they belonged. They had to suffer before they understood.

    For he knew, that young people were insecure and suffered from diverse dilemmas, syndromes and other neurotic and mental illnesses. Ungrateful fools. They had to bleed and suffer to repent their sins.

    The old man just wanted to show them the right way to live. And they hated him. But it was such a magnificent hatred.

    And they bled so beautifully.