[Story]Black Ponds and Neon Lights
Hey there! I just had an Idea and started to write about that. Apologizes for my grammar, english isn't my first language. I will continue to write on it as I feel like. Any feedback is appreciated.
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Have you ever dreamed of a black pond?
Probably you have, since that's all you can remember. It's that dim abyss where your memory falls into oblivion, hiding all the nightmares reality throws at us. Like that little girl buried six feet under a crashed airtruck. You remember that image for the rest of your life; These little pale fingers losing grasp of a box with the icon of some toy she just received, bloodstains on her little raincoat.
Or that poor bastard who ran into the wrong person at night and got the skin of his face peeled back like one of these ancient cans of tuna. Boggles my mind why someone would do that. Then again, humans tend to do things I cannot comprehend.
Yet I am one of them.
So, I am really grateful for that pond. Yet I am afraid that it's not big enough to contain all of these memories, as they seem to float on it's surface, mocking me while I'm awake. Of course, the bloody raincoat is gone, just like the ripped of face of that guy - and many more things I wish I've never seen.
Guess that's why I left the force a while ago. And maybe that's also the reason why so many other people do that as well. Staring through the window into endless cascades of new-built towers, grasping into the night air, as if they were trying to reach the sky with all it's hidden stars, blocking out the sun for everyone who's not wealthy enough to buy a penthouse high enough.
I guess the irony of this world is that life is so intertwined with death that it's natural rules doesn't appeal to mankind. And while being part of this deadly helix they fight it. Instead of simply accepting.
Maybe that's also what keeps me going. Like a lot of maybes. Like "Maybe I'm going to accept that contract and blow that office up." Or "Maybe I'm going to try and find the answer to all my problems at the bottom of a bottle of cheap Whiskey and a pack of cigarettes. Then again, another sip and another burning in my throat tells me, that there is no answer, as there is no question. Like a M79 brainchip with holographic display cannot be used with biological eyes.
And yet while I try to figure out whether I keep going - and what keeps me going - the world around me revolves itself for every other human in this godforsaken part of the world. And no one of us will figure out, as we're keen to man-made rules for a man-made system, lost in the bits of detail instead of looking for the greater part. It's like a song that's stuck in your head, probably as deep as the Eureka-Virus embeds itself into the hormone-controller in your skull and fucks up every single bit of behavior you're showing.
"The flashing lights of artificial suns hang bright in the sky and bring new temples unto mankind as the ruins of old shrines are crushed under the unstoppable evolution of mannequins."
Adam Felsker once wrote that. What a shame that he openly committed suicide at the very presentation of his book. A bullet, straight throw his own head and a little paper note in his pocket, stating that there is no help for people on a planet which faces it's very own dusk. Sometimes I pity him. Sometimes I'm jealous of this revelation. Especially when I look up to the casinos located on these floating ships high above all the murder, the trash, the dirt down on the streets.
And these are the moments where I realize that he decided to drown in his very own black pond.
Hey there! I just had an Idea and started to write about that. Apologizes for my grammar, english isn't my first language. I will continue to write on it as I feel like. Any feedback is appreciated.
===
Have you ever dreamed of a black pond?
Probably you have, since that's all you can remember. It's that dim abyss where your memory falls into oblivion, hiding all the nightmares reality throws at us. Like that little girl buried six feet under a crashed airtruck. You remember that image for the rest of your life; These little pale fingers losing grasp of a box with the icon of some toy she just received, bloodstains on her little raincoat.
Or that poor bastard who ran into the wrong person at night and got the skin of his face peeled back like one of these ancient cans of tuna. Boggles my mind why someone would do that. Then again, humans tend to do things I cannot comprehend.
Yet I am one of them.
So, I am really grateful for that pond. Yet I am afraid that it's not big enough to contain all of these memories, as they seem to float on it's surface, mocking me while I'm awake. Of course, the bloody raincoat is gone, just like the ripped of face of that guy - and many more things I wish I've never seen.
Guess that's why I left the force a while ago. And maybe that's also the reason why so many other people do that as well. Staring through the window into endless cascades of new-built towers, grasping into the night air, as if they were trying to reach the sky with all it's hidden stars, blocking out the sun for everyone who's not wealthy enough to buy a penthouse high enough.
I guess the irony of this world is that life is so intertwined with death that it's natural rules doesn't appeal to mankind. And while being part of this deadly helix they fight it. Instead of simply accepting.
Maybe that's also what keeps me going. Like a lot of maybes. Like "Maybe I'm going to accept that contract and blow that office up." Or "Maybe I'm going to try and find the answer to all my problems at the bottom of a bottle of cheap Whiskey and a pack of cigarettes. Then again, another sip and another burning in my throat tells me, that there is no answer, as there is no question. Like a M79 brainchip with holographic display cannot be used with biological eyes.
And yet while I try to figure out whether I keep going - and what keeps me going - the world around me revolves itself for every other human in this godforsaken part of the world. And no one of us will figure out, as we're keen to man-made rules for a man-made system, lost in the bits of detail instead of looking for the greater part. It's like a song that's stuck in your head, probably as deep as the Eureka-Virus embeds itself into the hormone-controller in your skull and fucks up every single bit of behavior you're showing.
"The flashing lights of artificial suns hang bright in the sky and bring new temples unto mankind as the ruins of old shrines are crushed under the unstoppable evolution of mannequins."
Adam Felsker once wrote that. What a shame that he openly committed suicide at the very presentation of his book. A bullet, straight throw his own head and a little paper note in his pocket, stating that there is no help for people on a planet which faces it's very own dusk. Sometimes I pity him. Sometimes I'm jealous of this revelation. Especially when I look up to the casinos located on these floating ships high above all the murder, the trash, the dirt down on the streets.
And these are the moments where I realize that he decided to drown in his very own black pond.