A Descent to Twilight (Fiction)

Note: This is a fictional story based on the character in my earlier post - "A Vignette of Silent Darkness". My skills at tackling fiction, even a monologue such as this, being very limited, this one will be published in parts. Bear with me.. 

When the mask slips..

Today was the day. There would be no more beating around the bush and half-hearted refusals to give in. Today, there would be a decision. He smiled at his own decisiveness but stopped when he realized his mind had wandered again. Stop it! Focus.. we need focus here! Focus on the inside. Focus on the smiling..for now. The excitement would follow. It should follow. Not the pale kind - the real one - the one that makes your palms tingle and your breath go harder, heavier. Sometimes it would bring with it a rush so wild, so.. so.. blinding that he could actually feel the blood rushing, gurgling almost, through his veins and arteries. It would rush and rush until he was full of blood. He could imagine, almost feel, his heart and his head about to explode. He would explode into a million, scattering, bright red lights. The real, clever trick there was to hold it in and let it bleed out slowly until he was drained of every thought and every prickly memory. Every faded dream and every sharp desire. Until he was empty.. bare.. clean. Like the bright, bare noon sky over a desert in winter.

The elevator was climbing slowly to his floor. The dim red light in the display blinked slowly to each number. Somehow it seemed slower when in the bright light of the day. Like the rusty metal box disguised in painted plastic knew the stupid numbers were harder to see.

The noises were lesser now. From out there. They had been for a while.. a week or so at least. Why was tha.. Oh fuck! He hadn't seen it. Why hadn't he thought of that? It was after he saw.. Fuck! Fuck! He felt as surge of anger well up from the pit of his stomach. Disgusting.. fucking disgusting. He felt cold suddenly. Like his clothes had been stripped away and the sun was bathing him in cold sweat. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled and made him feel.. what? What was he feeling? He didn't know. He hated not knowing. What was happening to him? That's it! This stops now! There would be a fucking decision today. No turning back like one of.. them. He shuddered at the thought of that possibility. At being.. that.

Yet somehow the thought of impending freedom from this castrating self doubt wasn't being the soothing albeit temporary solution he was hoping for. No.. there was something missing..

The thought just wasn't doing it. There wasn't the usual confidence he felt when he knew he was all set for the situation. The content of knowing he was in charge. No – it was oddly unsettling this time. His mind was racing almost. Without the rush or the excitement. It was.. it was like he was.. vulnerable (?)

This was stupid and pitiable. That’s what it was. Pitiable. Then why couldn't he let go of it? Why couldn't he take control of these.. these..feelings and choke them out of their purposeless life? Because in spite of all the turmoil and baseless, unfounded confusion, there was something else. Another dimension to the scenario. Something he couldn’t ignore. It was new. And therefore, he had to figure out what it was, why it was.. what she was..

Oh yeah. There was going to be a reckoning today. He would finally be himself again. Free, powerful, unshakable and magnificent. Not this weakling... reminiscent of sappy, snot nosed, awkward, puberty stricken children, bastards born off filthy cravings, that she had turned him into. And that too without knowing him or talking to him or even acknowledging him. Him!

How dare she? The fucking nerve on the bitch.. The whore.. If only the decision would be made soon and if it were the one he needed,  the one he wanted to make right now.. His teeth clenched and his muscles tensed in primal relish at the thought. If only she knew him..the real him.. and maybe she would. She would cower like the bitch she is and tremble before him in awe... in fear.

But.. no. Not yet. He had to be sure. He had to make sense of it.. of her. He had to understand why -  be rational. If he started going with his emotions, what made him different from the maggots and the worms that walked and breathed and spewed their filthy thoughts in to the air? No. Their very existence was an insult to him. He would never betray his true form like that. He would never be… like them.

She had twisted his sense of purpose, distorted his clear vision and.. and.. taken something from him - just by existing.. just by showing herself before him, without so much as a care in the fucking world as to what she was doing.. Her.. She..with her shining eyes..almost like a wild feline.. her graceful.. Fuck!

He realized his mind was wandering again. Stick to the chosen path here..

The numbers still kept blinking. Had it stopped? He hadn't noticed. Oh fuck! Was there going to be someone in there? His nose crinkled as he imagined the possible stink. Then a thought occurred to him. Maybe she stank too. Stank of flesh and sweat and mediocrity. Like all of them. She had too. He let out a chuckle. Oh she would.. she would.. He tried to imagine her stench.. He couldn't. Should he be worried?

No. It’s because she was .. new. She had to stink. It’s natural law. She can’t be against nature. Only he was. A good stench would make the decision a lot easier. A real smile briefly flashed across his face.

The elevator door creaked open to a pleasant beeping sound..

(part 2 in progress :)