Chances are I’ll die today, don’t know if we can keep them away
The town call rises in the sky, the northern front is do or die
If I fight upon that field, I know I can never yield
But if I choose to stand afar, the burning will forever scar
Chances are I’ll die today, better death than sorrow’s prey
He reached the top of the stairs quickly with his trunk-sized legs and opened the rusty door with a yawn. Mid-morning slanted rays slap his yawn away as reptilian eyes adjust.
“Hello Leo” Sissy says in a strained voice. “Felt like I’d forgotten you, hard as that is.”
“Felt like I’d forgotten you as well Sissy” Leo responds. “You still at it with that?”
“Every morning I inch it up there and when I wake up it’s fallen again, I just don’t get where I’m going wrong,” she said close to tears. “This damn TV dish, maybe the super has cursed me for all those pranks I played on him.”
“Could be Sis, or could be you did something that deserved punishment in a previous life.”
Sissy laughed her trillish laugh and beckoned at Leo “Care to lend a hand this time?”
Leo shook his head, “That’s your burden to bear Sissy, I need to head to work.”
Sissy nodded sadly and moved back to her daily quagmire, loose muscles straining with the weight.
Leo undulated to the doorway and entered the rusty portal. He moved down the steps but heard a great booming laugh near the 3rd floor. Leo slowed as he knew he’d have to speak with him one way or another.
“Hello Leo” an incredibly deep voice said, “Hope you’re enjoying it here.”
Leo turned toward the voice and spotted the super, smiling his abbrasive yellow smile filtered through a mane of shock white hair. “How are you, sir?” Leo asked
Memory deserts him.
He wake’s up in the morning, crawl’s around and tries to find his savior. Cries a little, but nothing wrong with that. Bottle hits his lips and the pain liquidates. He wonders “what happened last night?”
Another stab at rememberance, another failure. His memory feels like a warped sundial and his body thousand’s of years old. “Time to start the day,” he croaks to no one in particular. His tree shaped six-foot-tall body groans its way to standing, nothing feels the way it should be. He leaves for the bathroom but branches into the kitchen instead, vomit disposal sloshes as he empties whatever poor choices he made the previous evening. Feeling more like himself he looks in the mirror. The reflection show’s a foreign invader he doesn’t recognize until his three-colored eyes bore into each other. “There you are” he says in a stronger voice.
Something metallic scrapes against the roof of his apartment, “sissy’s at it again” he thinks. Finding the closest clean pants and shirt he can, he transforms into normality. Putting on his supposed-favorite Detroit hat he opens the door and heads to the roof.
The stupid man awakens in the bloody shower. “she left me” he remembers. Wedding today. Wedding off. The time is 6:03 a.m. Just enough time to cover his war wounds. Be at the gym by 0-six-thirty his boss said. Three methods tried and three methods failed. Miracle? Counteracted each other he guesses. Depressants v. Bloodletting, story at six-a.m. Wrists burning, shower still slapping his face he wearily rises. The scarred man rolls the shower dial, the slapping fades out and he shuffles to the mirror, blood drips from his wrists. Shit-coloured eyes appraise and find life wanting. “This is who I am” the foolish man says to no-one at all. The day begins.