intermittent

Prologue

It was a dark and stormy night as all such stories go... but this story is not one of those. It all happened whether it was day or night stormy or calm char1 was unconscious so he couldn’t have known what I am about to tell you.

It was dark but not night, there were clouds but only in memory... as char1 woke it was if the dead had risen. His mouth dry and eyes crusted over and out of sorts... and she was there; but he did not know that. Was she just visiting? Or was she from another world? Char1 had asked himself that many times apparent by the many conversations we had over the course of knowing him as he presented himself in layers. A mystery for the mysterious and keeping oneself stranger is sometimes at arms length instead of behind closed doors.

Some keep arms length, closed doors and closets firmly locked... too scared to venture on the other side; with all of the corpses and seeing them self as some sort of ghoul. So the mask is “this is me” this entire thing of course isn’t about me... as I am just; a teller of this tale.


CH1 Sombre days are here again...

Before the sombre days there were the sober days... the days of ignorance feigning and fending happiness in a chosen stupor of that drunkenness only sobriety and have seen too much can bring... close the curtain, shut the drapes, close and lock the doors I have gone too far and need a public mask from the horrors of life outside the norm.

That’s the real monster; the one looming ready to break out unmask you and wear your face as you have stolen it’s own... of course char1 ignorant of this; but she was not. He was smitten at first glance the darkness creeping out of the closet he longed to keep away. As any siren song goes... the tea was totaled and about to be on the rocks. Would it save char1? Would she?

...but remember these are the sombre days not the sober or on the rock days the just kidding myself days; the everyone knows it is because of my nervous little laugh days. As my art of faking it has yet to ripen into a full blown sociopath days... those sorts typically take to the cloth, so confident in themselves they can make all sorts of devils heavens and hells for people, out of their closets... however condensing them down to the classic is easier in doing so, in order to hide the real beast... those days are yet to be mentioned.

Sombre has a ring to it like a fine glass of wine and only a tune the rim with a wet finger can attain. Each have their days of wine, and in between others not wanting to listen including oneself? Those are the days called sombre... no adversary no armchair psychologist just blank... in sense drifting in a self induced purgatory, others just call it stuck. A burden no one else could lift... every attempt back breaking for others, because they are not the ones that put their legs to it all to begin with.

Such a weightiness... where no angel could help, and no demon could be blamed. The paradise of innocence lost in a sea of yesterday, to one’s craving eating at them to feed it. That big looming creature called future seeking comfort in anytime any place and anything but here... some Greeks liked to think and imagine the folly of youth dancing halcyon among the meadows with not a single care, while they know full well it is the Elysian fields already fallen in battle to each and every whim and fancy... or has yet too.

The prelude to sombre days if you will...

Ch2 Chr1 shrugs...

The space between yesterday and tomorrow is that pesky thing called eternity, some take it down to the smallest moment possible and at the shortest distance is that a Max Planck in your eyes or are you just happy to see me... going no where being no body in such a short expanse of time... smiling not so grim as one might imagine when all is out of closets, out from behind doors, and not at any arms length.

Chr1 wipes his eye crust away, smacks his dry mouth and yawns in a cool sweat... his blinking rapid and the sweat turns to heat as his mind shifts into focus. His nose catches her sent for a brief moment, his mind races in a grasp and it all starts flooding back to him in a moment of terror and longing but not for her... as his heart beats again so he notices it. The day has finally come alive... the sounds from outside echoing in. the ceiling fan spinning it’s own slow dizzy tale of dust me... dust me... dust me... dust me...

The scent of a woman changes over time; the scent of the one you love like a flower never does... transcending time and space love beats against the breast beats against the ground as step by step one inches out of that eternity into yesterdays dream trying to shuffle future into place. How will the seconds, minutes, hours stack up as the cards are played out... will it matter when one ends up face down at the end of everyday? Depends if one deserves to be rolled over come morning out of that grave to face the ol rinse and repeat.

The shower streamed down over chr1’s shoulders, he had to duck or else hit his head on the spout. Even though this had occurred many times he would still arch back in a stretch and clunk! almost like that was the alarm to stop stretching... and the good feeling from the stretch immediately lost. Clouds looming fogging mirrors as darkness retreats back into the space where nothing to see or know here exists...

Wiping away the mirror with his razor in hand was a mistake; and he knew it... instantly as it caught the trim flipped it and cut his finger open flipping the razor on the vanity and towel dropping onto the floor... why do I even bother crossed his mind. The bother... blanketed over everything and not just steamy mirrors. It could be called morose or even sombre... but those days have yet to come. Picking up the towel his back popped a flood of dizziness over took him from the hot shower as his knees buckled; his bloody hand lands again on the razor trying to not fall over...

Yanking his hand away just when he needed it, in a yelp that neighbors might accuse him of having a dog against lease prohibition; the morning wins with a royal flush as his head strikes the toilet... knocking him out cold.

Still bleeding... which is what the towel was supposed to do; irony by any other name would have been the wrinkled shirt hanging on the door yet to be ironed. For a day chr1 never saw.


A banging on the door didn’t wake him, yelling didn’t wake him, three days after being in a hospital did. Chr1 stared blankly at his hand brows furrowed almost coming to a point but none could be made... reality had changed too many senses to be a dream. But unconsciousness has a way of doing that when so many senses cannot be denied... people used to pinch themselves just to make sure pain was still there as in dream one supposedly will not feel it. So dream with an dream typically left to thought as chr1’s eyes drifted down the IV tube down to his arm and to the needle taped aggressively to his arm.

Ham handed not typically a good nursing trait... as they have gone mechanical in operation as if one was a floor getting a broom just to get it done because so many other floors to sweep through in the mind going round and round. As his eyes crossed the room too stereotypical of hospital rooms to mention, one thing stood out... he had a roommate behind a screen and they had the window spot meaning silhouette and no other view of outside to see the source of natural light.

It could have been a couple of pillows laying there lumped in shadow how would he know as no sound and motionless as he stared for a good five minutes... relatively speaking who can say the exact length but motion did not occur not even on the beige curtain he was pretty sure it was once white but in the age of smoking and other yellows to stain it without ever coming out over time beige it was going to stay... although “clean”... not even the shirt hanging alone knowing the full story as a wrinkle in time.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! as loud and annoying that was? It was the first time chr1 noticed it... he had a heart monitor hooked up in what seemed like cross purposes instead of being on the same side as the IV which was window side. He noticed some blood on his hand injury side of the bed that missed cleaning his hand wrapped like an oven mit might fit the job with some cleaner but ham handed and lacking the spray, chr1’s mind drifted away from the tidiness issue to the roommate issue... it did not make sense to him as he had stellar insurance which specified private room, in just such a case as hospitalization.

Staring back at the curtain he hoped it was some pillows or else... chr1 is a particular and peculiar person in such a way; as part of his control scheme, it keeps the order or else everyone will be over paying and booked in dual occupancy rooms and when will it end... as rationalization. So not one of those sorts to let it go knowing he had not been hospitalized requiring a room in over twenty years... until to him however long he had been in there... as you and I know this is the third day.

I would say let it go twenty more years is probable and the fight just too much reason for making it less as health goes. But chr1 is not that sort being in control of that passing heap called a self or at least that’s what he has told himself, as long as closet stays locked, doors remain closed and arms length is there, he is in control.

...and he is going to prove that; or is he going to prove that? changing and to or such a small change; and small changes happen all the time. Especially when someone thinks they are in control. Ready to throw them the exact opposite of what they want, which is a lesson in how little they have. Of course the lesson of that came in the bathroom sending him here in the hospital... so subconsciously the fight that is building will somehow at least in our minds in knowing him as we do and to the extent of each, will place him back into control... because it is after all what he thinks.

Real or not, the hand and other senses proves that he is not laying dead on his bathroom floor as a reality doesn’t it? He has already built a future in arguing hospital insurance so that destiny has to now be filled for balance and control does it not? Dream a dream real enough and you’ll orgasm. Wake up no one was there... just that lingering scent drifting on the edges of perception. Ready to curl up in unconsciousness but only yours. Eating subconscious and loving you for it.

Real or alien... perhaps both. At least as feeling goes but yet so natural not. The she that creeps the sleeping state the same as the he in hers. The dreamer and the dream working for and against each other until destiny forces a hand from right to left, turned forwards and backwards, left feet becoming both right... knowing sometimes when to turn or not. The gaps in emotion, and logic filling each other with and without reason at times feeling lost.

Closets, under beds, hanging from ceilings wafting in ethereal breezes and on the aether of energy itself. As life knows no difference despite the dreamers being in two different worlds and yet not sharing a space so close it could be on the end of each others nose... and not even know it.

Chr1 has such an issue but blind to it in some ways and someways not, she did make an appearance and everything changed, for him worse... for her? How could he know... destiny. By any other name would not be a muse. chr1 awoke same room night with ham hands perhaps placing a sponge on his upper thigh... he jolted with a fright but yet his longing said this is something he should have anticipated and like any dirty boy with longing should have lay in wait for like a cat hovering outside a mouse hole for hours motionless.

But the jig being up all he could do was laugh his nervous laugh at the nurse he found strikingly attractive and say; “Happy ending?” without missing a beat; she said ‘you could be dead... hows that for a happy ending?’ his chagrin faded as the boyish charm did not stick and the self consciousness arose as his remark put her in arms reach meaning next was door and next was closet so he froze like the old cat but instead was dying inside of fright as all of this flooded through his mind. He could barely admire her backside without feeling guilty as she paced quickly out of the room.

After some moments of chastising himself on all accounts; Chr1 realized she didn’t check on patient number two...as he looked over there was no silhouette the darkness of the night had taken his, ability to see through it like a child pretending it is a supernatural power of x-ray vision away. Not thinking of the child and whimsy he frowned just the same... not knowing if lumped mass had moved and not hearing the BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! on their side of the room meant there wasn’t a monitor on them... if they existed at all...

As chr1 sat up pressing the button to aid him he realized he had to urinate, in his mind it came off as I have to piss and this goddamned heart monitor and IV on either side aren’t helping me get up to make it too... is there even a bathroom? He failed to notice earlier if their was. He saw a door behind and yet adjacent to the hallway door that had shut behind the nurse... but it was flat against the wall instead of protruding in as all the ones he had visited relatives did. What hospital is this he wondered I should know... I’ve been to both of them, he noticed a urine catch sitting on the bedside table... this wasn’t there before he said to himself, did the nurse leave it? She had to have left it, how else have I been peeing? And how long have I been in here anyways?

CHR1 grasped the catch placed it between his legs and started fumbling around the hospital gown, at that moment he noticed the nurse standing there hands on her hips watching him, she said too bad you’re not a lefty but maybe you just prefer the feel of gauze for a change? She said it with such snark he didn’t even reply. She exhaled; you’ve done this everyday since you have been here, why is it so difficult now?

Wait what? Me? When have I done this? he said accusingly at her; she said since you’ve been born... his mind rolled around too encased in the moment to see outside of the time unlike hers... at that moment he felt like he was under a microscope as there was no big picture in that room. But she, she had the big picture and answers... but not making sense as he would have remembered the catch and using it and especially her there knowing about it. The things we tell ourselves... in that sort of asshole way of needing to be right at all times because sanity demands it... no matter how irrational that sanity is.

He said no I haven’t, then caught himself... well yeah what you say. But not what you say. Single are we? he said yeah how did you know, well I am no stranger to being hit on by all types and been in a relationship with a few just like you and well not any more like any sensible woman. Chr1 was growing agitated he did not see the banter as friendly but down right accusatory. So during some silence he bit back; failed psychology as a career choice didn’t you? Her hand left her hip and swung into a point at him with a quip; see how easy a relationship ends? Good thing I didn’t try for an A in happy endings with you professor.

Too much swirled in his mind; for once not about him, the same as the piss swirled about in the urine catch. Going to stay conscious this time she asked? Today is the end of three days here and my shift is over... by the way chr2 is going to be a night nurse and he would probably love to help you have a happy ending with out me... wink wink as she said it and did it at the same time, while emptying his urine in a larger container and placing it back on the bedside table.

Um, no... I’ll just use the shower he said. Sorry chr1, none for you... say hi to chr2 for me... and with that she left as he started a protest she wasn’t even hearing or at least was but it was like the smiling he couldn’t see on her face as she walked through the doorway on her way out.

I’ll turn down the sponge bath he rapidly thought... chr2 can have his own damn happy ending with bitch face. Three days and I’ve filled that urine catch more than that time and conscious of it? Have I got a happy ending from chr2 he thought in fear how would I even know? I only have a cut no need to even be here; he said out loud... then started tearing out his IV and removing his heart monitor.

CH3 when it pains it roars...

Chr1 woke up and looked about the room, a standard hospital room... he thought doesn’t look familiar and wait why do I have a roommate as he stares at the beige curtain divider as the sun passes through with a shadow of someone laying in the bed. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! De ja vous he thought... how strange it has been awhile since I’ve had such a thing, how long have I been here he wondered? He noticed a basin and a sponge on the bedside table and a urine catch, good thing that is there he thought and gave himself a small push to see if he needed it.

Holding it in is bad for you echoed in his head from a friend during college days; she was also vegan he thought but still ate eggs, cheese, and milk but still claimed veganism... so perturbed as if that was real advice or not as exacting as such people can be, but I don’t use leather was her rationalization. He didn’t notice any signs of visitors like flowers and could see a shadow of some on the table shadow behind the curtain dividing the room... I’m so going to give my insurance company a piece of my mind he thought private room, private room, private room, this place can’t be full can it? Did some disaster happen chr1 wondered as did his mind wander continually grasping trying to make sense reason and ration out of any and all situations.

Could it be a disease? He thought but not about what I asked, but if you want to know yes and to answer his no not disease nor disaster... but I can’t tell him that and neither can you. If you want to be patient you’ll know what I know... so far you know more than chr1 who is the patient. The answer is no, no no patience not after knowing what this one named chr1 is going through. Wait patience patient... yes the words dance circles draining in and out drifting along waiting to be grasped forcing their way in demanding attention... why bar them out?

They are you after all; aren’t they? Don’t worry if so, CHR1 thinks the same thing.

In the distance;

A light and up close darkness as intermittent red pulses flash on...

12:00

12:00

12:00

12:00

so hit snooze...

Y/N?

Very very rough draft just a first write though likely not going to smooth it out though... just a short story hiding as a three story book... but time will tell.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP