“Roger Caprice. Yeah, that’s a pen name – caprice, thought it would be fun.” Her blank stare made me worry; The resume was concise and well written, perhaps the references were a little vague, but time didn’t allow several hours in conversation about a temporary editor.
It makes very little difference now whether they believe me. Actually, I’m not sure at this point why I thought it mattered at all. I’ve so immersed myself in his journals and maps that I felt I owed it to him, I suppose. He gave me purpose a dark purpose in finding… me.
I can see myself sitting here, as if I’m already dead, looking down upon my slumped form, near the fading and flickering candlelight. There must be a trickle of air coming from somewhere for the flame to continue; for me to continue
The situation was this… we pushed our limit, we overreached, we took out the part of us that God put in, labeled free will and we shook it liberally all over our skin, hair, hands and feet.
Don’t get me wrong, don’t think I’m one of those people who blame God for everything. We knew what we were doing, and we knew we really should stop.
At any rate, I’m just a regular guy who finished high school and then finished college in all of four years and started a job in the city and thought about getting married twice. I let those two ideas slip right by and now I have the odd and end girlfriend divorcee. I know it sounds like I’m a bit of a user and maybe I am.
She reached forward, her slender wrist exposed from beneath her coat only for a moment. She busied herself with placing the can goods back upon the shelf. The memory of her steady pulse just beneath her skin caused him to shudder, fighting attraction.
After my wife left me I felt a terrible loss because she took the dog and the cat with her. She left angry.
While being raped one summer evening at 16, the idea went through my head that I had been nice to all who knew me condescendingly. As the air left my lungs while he flung me around like a rag doll, I had small visions of myself. Minor flashes of memories being predictable, unimaginative, safe for people who wanted no personal challenges.
“Ne felj!” His slender body arched inward; shoulders stooped as if he were trying to make himself less frightful. Impossible! My teeth chattered in response to his hushed question and attempted assurance. The blood that smeared across his lips and chin, the body of the young girl between us now emitting a thin mist as if her soul were rising from her cooling body. “Meggyilkoltad azt a lanyt.” I croaked out at last. But even in my fear my mind churned to remember the lighting, the smell, the shadow of the place in which I felt certain my life was finally beginning and soon to end.
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