lamentofkhaos

[lamentofkhaos]

"Song of Myself"

“Song of Myself" I do not exist. Myself–as a whole– Is Nothing. I am Nobody. I am but the lens, Made to observe. To record, To repeat, For the starving soul.

Life is brought to me– So long you gaze upon my flesh. I will exist– If only you allow. Perceive me. Give me life. Heal the skin peeling from my bones.

For I am the lens, Created to observe. Watching life, yet never living. Searching, But never found.

I am a story spoken in whispers, But never in truth. The name carved into life, Overlooked and disregarded.

And I call to her, Pleading as I grovel, For just a sliver of her, My dear Life. Speak of me, Say my name. Watch me form and mend and break. To your will, you may shape me. But you must watch. You must watch.

Choose to turn away, But it's far too late. When our eyes meet again, I've already rotted away.

I’ve no heart, Did I ever? No lungs to breathe me air. Inside, I am hollow. Made to be a shell.

Mold me, Free me. Hold me, Free me. Cold and hollow, Free me. See the pictures of my mind.

I am merely a lens, Nothing more. The tool of your desire. Point me, Perceive me, Paint me in your precious dream.

[lamentofkhaos]

“Abandonment”

He woke up with a start inside the tent he shared with Jovani, the cold ground against his back waking him immediately. At some point, he had rolled completely off the bedroll Jia had provided him. His blankets had been thrashed about, too. Just what had he been dreaming about to cause such disarray? Slowly, Brandy sat up and looked around the tent. Jovani didn’t seem to be around and his bedroll was gone. He found this a little odd, considering Brandy was an extremely early riser. Unless Jovani was even more of an early bird, Brandy must have slept in.

With a yawn, he pulled his shirt off and reached for the backpack he stashed in the corner to make room for his bunk-mate. Brandy unzipped it and pulled on a fresh pair of clothes, replacing the pajamas that were now covered in sweat. Really, it was disgusting. He felt sticky all over. Must have been a nightmare.

Brandy stood, ducking his head low to avoid hitting the top of the tent, and unzipped the door. Sunlight washed in and blinded his sleep-ridden eyes. He blinked furiously as he adjusted, stepping out barefoot.

“..What the hell?”

The sight that greeted Brandy was not the one he’d seen before bed—a beautiful campsite inhabited with three tents, chairs, and a van. No. It was empty. Abandoned.

The tents he and Audrina worked so hard to set up were gone. The chairs around the fire, which glowed with a dim light, were gone. Jia’s van was gone. Everything.. every*one* was *gone*.

An odd feeling washed over Brandy at once. His stomach clenched and, for a moment, he thought he might need another Dramamine. It was incredibly strange for his friends to leave without notice. Maybe Audrina finally convinced Jia to take them all to McDonalds, fed up with the camp life? Yes. That had to be it. That was certainly it. His friends were down the road right now, ordering burgers and take out. Brandy pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed Jia’s contact, letting the call ring.

Once.

Twice.

Four times.

Five.

*The person you are trying to call is not available right now. At the tone, please record your message.*

Okay, so Jia didn’t answer. Thats fine. Her phone must have died or something. It wasn’t the first time. Brandy scrolled to the next contact. Ilyx. He pressed call.

The phone rang. He waited.

*The person you are trying to call is not available right now. At the tone, please record your message.*

Brandy tried Audrina next. It rang. He waited. *The person you are trying to call is not available right now. At the tone, please record your message.*

Then he tried Jovani.

It rang.

He waited.

…

*The person you are trying to call is not available right now. At the tone, please record your message.*

*Why aren’t they answering?* Brandy’s thoughts came wild, staring at the phone in his trembling hand. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about this scenario before. He had assured himself hundreds of times it would never come to pass.

Brandy tried Jia again. No answer. He tried Ilyx again. No answer. Jia again. No answer.

Jia.

No answer.

Jia.

Jia.

Jia.

*The person—*

Brandy through his phone on the ground, shattering on impact. This wasn’t right. Theres no way his friends would leave without telling him, right? Something must have happened, right? He ran about the campsite, turning everything over. Nothing.

He ran up and down the roads and trails until his chest heaved and his vision blurred. There was no sign of anyone. Not any other campers. Not his friends. No one.

Brandy was alone.

It had to be a dream. Some sort of nightmare. It wasn’t real. He knew it wasn’t real. A shaky hand came to his bicep, pinching himself there hard. It hurt. You can’t feel in dreams. There is always a flaw. He pinched himself again, harder. It hurt. His fingers dug into his skin over and over until it cracked, leaving a red and swollen bruise there.

Why could he feel it?

Why wasn’t there a flaw?

Why was it real?

*Why did they leave?*

—

It was the first snowfall of the year.

The forecast on the television the night before predicted several inches of snow that would blanket and blizzard half the state of Georgia. Brandy had been so excited he couldn’t sleep, practically bouncing off the walls all night until his mother scolded him and put him to bed.

Each year, on the first snowfall of the year, he and his mom would hike through the woods until their chests heaved. They’d climb the trail that led up the mountain with tents and bundles of blankets. They’d camp under the stars and watch the snow fall, huddled together and drink warm homemade cider they made earlier in the day.

Brandy rose with the sun and sprung out of bed immediately, excitement coursing through him. He was always an early riser and he always seemed to have boundless energy. His mom always called him a rooster.

He dashed down the hall, his bare feet pattering against the polished oak floorboards of the small cabin. He pushed the door open to his mom’s bedroom and jumped onto her bed, shouting with excitement, “Mom! Mom!”

However, when he landed on the pile of blankets, there was nothing beneath them. He pressed his chubby fingers down and patted the bed, which had gone cold from the winter air. It seemed his mom had woken long ago. This wasn’t anything strange—sometimes his mom would wake before he did.

Brandy hopped off the bed and exited the bedroom, descending the stairs easily and swiftly as he called out again for his mom. “Moom? Are you up?”

No answer came. He peered around the corner and into the kitchen curiously. It wasn’t like his mom to play games like this, despite the mischief she liked to pull, so he couldn’t help but wonder:

*Where did my mom go?*

He checked the living room. She wasn’t there either. The bathroom. Nope. Her office. Nope. It wasn’t a large house, really. There would be nowhere for her to be that she wouldn’t hear his calls.

A small feeling of worry formed in bis chest and he dashed outside, barefoot, in the snow. “Moom?” He called, cupping his hands over his mouth. That’s when he noticed the foot prints. New snow began to fill them, but they were still visible and rather small, but human. Still completely shoeless, Brandy followed them. They trailed around to the back of the house, where his mom kept the car.

The car was gone too.

It was obvious his mom was not home, now, and it was not the first time she had left him home alone. He was not unsettled and instead went back inside the house where it was warm and locked the doors to wait for his mom to return. She probably forgot apples for the cider again and went out to buy some before Brandy woke up, but he was just too much of an early bird for the surprise. With this thought in mind, Brandy thought that he should surprise *her* instead! The look on his mom’s face when she saw how smart her son was would be priceless!

Brandy got to work at once.

He cleaned dishes from the previous night in the sink, extra careful not to break any plates or cups. He swept and mopped the floors like his mom had showed him and he even cleaned the mirrors and windows. He made sure the house was absolutely spotless and then sat on the sofa with his favorite crayons and coloring book to wait.

Brandy waited an hour. There was no sign of his mom yet, but that was to be expected. He had witnessed the traffic snow could cause first hand. He colored a picture of a dragon, with green scales and scribbled messily outside of the lines. He looked at his creation and frowned. His mom liked neat things and this was far from neat. He flipped through the book until he found a puppy and began to diligently color it in, careful not to color outside the lines this time. This could make a good gift for his mom.

Another hour passed and Brandy was still coloring. He was absorbed in his work, completely concentrated. And then his stomach growled loudly. By now, his mom would have prepared breakfast for them both. They would have sat at the table and ate while his mom wrote ideas for her next article. This was fine, too, though. Sometimes his mom was just late. She would come home soon.

Another hour passed. Then another. And another. There was no sign of mom and Brandy began to feel a little bad, but he didn’t know why.

Those hours turned into a day. Then two days. Three. Four. A week. Throughout this entire week, he only felt worse and worse. Like he was sick. He took his temperature several times, but he did not have a fever. The same thought always came back. *When is mom coming home? I miss her.*

Brandy did not know how to cook. For the first time, he had to make food for himself and everything he made, he burned beyond salvageable. In the end, he was so hungry he ate whatever he made even if he was sick after. At some point, Brandy stopped sleeping in his room. He curled up in his mom’s bed and hugged her pillows tight, clinging to them. *When is mom coming home?* He thought again as his thoughts drifted and he fell asleep. *I miss her.*

The food ran out quickly.

There was nothing left that Brandy could make for himself. He grew hungrier and hungrier, filling himself up on water. The pain his stomach only grew and grew. *Mom will come home and make me food.* He told himself and occupied his mind and body by playing games and singing songs to pass the time.

By the fourth day, he could not take it anymore.

Almost two weeks had gone by and there was no sign of his mom. He was hungry and tired and his games were no longer fun. Brandy sat by the window, clutching his stomach and sniffling. *Why isn’t mom coming home?* The glass was cold against his forehead, his eyes watching for the familiar car that would pull into the driveway. Nothing.

Nothing except snow. It had been snowing nonstop, piling up. Brandy wiped his tears as he watched the powdery white flakes fall from the sky and onto the ground. He remembered, one time, playing in the snow with his mom. In a bout of curiosity, he’d asked where the snow came from and thus his mom explained the weather cycle. That snow was frozen water—like ice. Since it was water, Brandy had scooped some up and taken a bite.

He rushed to the door and dashed outside, collapsing on the porch and reaching into the yard. His small, eight-year-old fingers dug into the snow almost desperately and he devoured it. He ate several handfuls, his mouth going numb and fingertips stinging from how cold it was. But he didn’t stop. He ate and ate until he felt full and then he cried.

—

It was all the same. Exactly the same.

No word or warning. No reason he could find. They were just *gone*. Once again, Brandy was alone. Tormented by himself, his turmoil. As the ground spun beneath his feet and his head pounded like a drum, he heard it. He heard *them*. Jia. Ilyx. Audrina. Even Jovani. They were distant voices, but cheerful and happy.

He ran in that direction. He dashed through the woods, following the familiar giggles and garbled words that he could not quite make out. The closer he got, the farther those voices seemed. Was he going insane? Mad from desperation? Brandy cupped his hands to his lips and shouted into the woods, “*I’M HERE!*” He yelled with everything he had, calling for the friends he could not find. “*JIA! ILYX!*”

No responses aside from those carefree, faint voices. As though they did not hear him or his cries. As though he simply did not exist. “*CAN’T YOU HEAR ME?*” He tried again, yelling until his voice went hoarse and his vocal cords gave out. He could not yell anymore. Even when he began to weep, his sobs were broken and silent. “*Can’t you all hear me?*”

Through his panic, Brandy had failed to notice his surroundings. It was still the forest he’d been in—the mountains they had camped in—but somehow Brandy had run right back into the campsite. Right back to where his tent was.

Except, well.. that flower was not there before.

It was a small patch of tiny light blue and purple flowers, growing in the centre of the empty campsite. They looked pitiful and small, barely noticeable if they weren’t so out of place in the plain dirt. Brandy found himself approaching these small flowers, crouching to look at them.

They felt like a mockery.

Like someone was purposefully playing tricks on him.

His face twisted in rage the more he stared at those flowers. His blood boiled just looking at them. With a loud and furious cry, Brandy stomped on the flowers.

And then he collapsed.

[lamentofkhaos]

"Interview"

“There’s not much at all, really,” He said, hands folded across one another. His long, bony fingers weaved together like thick pieces of straw, rubbing the pale base of his ring finger. “I suppose you could call it a matter of perspective.” He was a well put together man, indeed, for someone like him. You almost could not tell of his history, the terror which he alone invoked with his very breath.

“A matter of perspective?” I spoke clearly through the glass wall that separated us, hearing my own voice ring out with pure curiosity. “I’ve read your file, Mr. Lake. These..visions you have–they are not just a ‘perspective’, as you say.” I made sure to put air quotes around my words, egging the man on. Tell me more, I begged silently, exactly what do you see?

The man smiled kindly, the corners of his eyes crinkled and inviting. It was almost frightening, the way he smiled. There seemed so much joy, yet his pleasure was cold in nature. “Perhaps not,” He seemed to laugh. “I meant I merely see things differently than you. I suppose these views began to leak into my vision,” He turned his head thoughtfully to the side. One way, then the other. 

I watched as though mesmerized, his movements were hypnotic, of a snake. At any point, I expected the man to finally sink in his teeth. To snap and show the truth of what had brought him to such a revolting place. “Or, perhaps, I simply see the truth.” With a shrug and a sigh, he waved his words away as though trivial.

I knew what he was doing–luring me in. He wanted me to bite first, to take his bait and trap me in a corner. Of course, I knew better than this. I had dealt with many of his stature, who thought themselves clever. He seemed to have convinced himself of his own delusions. What a fool. 

“So then, Mr. Lake,” I interrupted his little monologue, opening the yellow file I’d borrowed from his carers. “If I am correct in my sources, these visions you have–the creatures you’ve seen–you can touch them?”