The house doesn't feel like home, mother. Not since you left for the other world after father left for another house from outside town
Now there's just me here. And my older brother who is younger than me mentally and will remain so for the rest of his life He still hears whispers coming from every dark corner of the house and because of this our electric bill is enormous
I can no longer take this
I'm not strong enough
I'm not willing enough
This cross is too damn heavy. It's breaking my back, breaking my soul
I want to get a better job and eventually a car and a wife and start a family
I can't do that while taking care of my troubled brother
I quit.
Tonight I will make his nightmares come true The electricity will go out and suddenly the whispers that come from the dark will become voices and then screams and they'll get him
A rabbit can die if it gets too scared. I believe this is also valid for my troubled brother. I'll only make sure to leave a few sharp objects near him
I know he'll do it
And I'm sorry that he'll do it but there's no other way to break this shackle
One day I'll debate the issue with you, mother But for now you can't argue with me
at 08:22 he awakens and pushes away the tarp he uses as blanket
he’s already dressed up and wears shoes
looks around at the blackening dampness of the walls
stretches a bit
takes off his coat and the blouse and the shirt and the tank-top
grabs a tissue wets it with rubbing alcohol and uses it to wash his armpits. He knows it’s good for killing the bad smelling bacteria
He knows much about how the world works for he’d been to school and even one year of collage in his youth
When his armpits dry he dresses up and gets out and checks under the big flower pots that stand before the entry to the building
He is wise to keep his savings there Otherwise the others would’ve smelled it on him and would’ve robbed him a long time ago He counts the money and feels satisfied with the sum
At 09:30 he eats a warm meal at the local soup kitchen and turns down four bums who ask to borrow money
At 10:10 he walks up to the big casino and enters
Now his imagination kicks in
Behind the entry he is greeted with luxury, he walks on the red carpet and sees the bright lights and the game attendants who greet him like a king
He is the king in his vision and he had returned to his castle
He smiles and walks around leisurely
A man needs to have but a clear vision of a bright future to live a happy present
He finds a seat in front of a slot machine
puts the money into the bill acceptor and starts playing
He is one of the happiest customers the casino ever had
the worst part about being alone and sick is being sick but perhaps the second worst is having no one to comfort you
He reminded himself aloud that it was his own choice and rolled on the carpet and pushed his thumbs inside his eyes
The head was killing him, like the brain grew legs and constantly kneed his eyeballs from the inside, seeking to push them out like caps of beer bottles and exit through the holes
And his stomach wasn't any better although it got everything out some time ago
The first few coughs came with liquid, pungent vomit but now there was only blood
"You can only get what you deserve," whispered the faded silhouette from the mirror. "You might think all this is caused by the bottle of wine you found while dumpster diving as you do. It had been opened and had no label but you thought 'ah, what the hell, wine doesn't expire. It's probably still good.' Hah! It's not the wine, you cretin! It's you. You alone are the cause of all trouble, of all that's going sour in your life."
"Fuck you," he said
"Oh? That all you can say? You piece of filth. I hope you don't recover from this and finally do a service to the world and stay dead."
But the words infused him with the needed adrenaline to keep living
On the next morning he was feeling almost right
He dressed up and stood before the mirror to laugh at the silhouette but it was no longer there
"Ah, that's right," he said. "You died a long time ago, mother. Thank you for your service."
He was alone in the room and lonely enough to have bought one of those Ouija boards from some old woman who called herself a medium
It was time to try it out
All he hoped for was a sexy ghost that would haunt him, maybe hurt him a bit, he wouldn’t mind
Anything just to take away the soul-crushing loneliness
Anything!
He said the prayers exactly as the medium instructed and did the breathing exercises and was ready to use the board
he moved the piece to spell HELLO
got no answer
Looked around the room
Nothing
Again, he spelled HELLO. IS ANYONE HERE? ANYONE AT ALL? ARE YOU FEMALE?
Nothing
Nothing new at least. Only more loneliness and more frustration and
lower down the rabbit hole of misfits he slipped
WELL FUCK YOU! he spelled
and jammed the pointy side of the piece into his eye and rammed his face into the board driving it further into his skull
After his body was found the media concluded that the Ouija board must’ve been really cursed and the poor boy had summoned a ghost or some demon or something like that and it killed him
Well, they weren’t too far from the truth
And the saddest part of all was that the story was powerful enough to make other lads like him try out Ouija boards just like him
in nights like this he would just drink in the dark and smoke and lie on his side and hallucinate about a snake vomiting vibrating colors on a white wall
Maybe the snake had eaten paint
But it was a small snake no bigger than a worm and the amount of dancing colors it vomited all over was astounding
Enough to paint the whole house
But the colors would never stay on the things they fell upon The colors would bounce around and dance and vibrate mingle with each other and part and mix again
and the small snake would vomit some more and it would make a sound like babies crying
All he wanted in times like these was to crawl over to the poor snake and comfort it in some way pat its head, place it in his armpit to get warm, feed it something, rub its belly up and down and around
But the little snake wouldn't come his way
Not even after he split the inside of his forearm from wrist to elbow to invite it into his flesh
"Fine then," he said. "Stand there and vomit until you die. We'll still be together one day whether you like it or not…"
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Daydreaming as a profession 