Vision

[Tyler Durden]

Vision
By Justin Hughes


Splash.

I try to avoid the flying drops of hydrochloric acid that splatter on the linoleum floor. As they land, they burn white spots into the black squares of the checkered tiles. Almost giving them eyes.

Splash.

Sizzle.

The acid starts to eat away at the severed appendages that Adam is dropping, one by one, into the tub. One of the flying drops splashes onto my pants. Giving it a white glaring eye. I look at Adam.

Bastard.

The blood in the bathtub isn?t really red anymore. It?s that kind of salmonella pink that covers the countertop when you pull a raw chicken out of the package. Along with the acid bubbles, the blood and body parts of Lewis Strat?s anatomy float at the top of the tub. Adam looks back at the wide gaping eye on my pants, which have now been bleached into being tacky. He smiles and looks at me in that ambiguous glare that could either be na?ve innocence or playful intent.

?Sorry?

Adam drops all of Lewis Strat?s parts into the tub except the forearm and his eyeball. He picks up the arm and hands it to me. He gives me another elitist?s grin and whispers:

?Accessory to murder?

Right, I say.

I pick up the arm and lower it into the water slowly so as not to create anymore eyes on the floor or on my pants. I watch it float to the top. After about an hour of Adam watching me watching Lewis Strat dissolve, Adam pulls a black garbage bag from under the sink. He pulls the cork out from the drain with a wire hanger and waits for the black eyeball in the tub to suck all the liquid into its retinas. After the black eye has seen all the fluid Adam scoops up all the Lewis Strat sludge that wouldn?t cooperate with the acid and throws the mess into the bag. He stands up and moves towards the door.

?I think you left your bag in the kitchen, don?t forget to grab it on the way out. And do me a favor, rinse out the rest of Lewis so he doesn?t stain the tub. Thanks, babe.?

I don?t look at Adam but I nod my head. Adam is taking Lewis out to the back yard where he?ll add him to his mother?s compost pile. That pile along with Lewis and countless other unlucky people are allowed the pleasure of helping Adam?s Mom?s carrot patch to grow.

This is six months after I?m standing in the doorway of Adam?s room. Adam?s room is at the top of the stairs and it over looks the living room with the off white linoleum floor. I?m waiting for Adam to get home so we can finish up our history project. Before she leaves for work, Adam?s mom tells me Adam will be home any minute and I should wait up in his room. I wait for an hour until I hear noises down stairs.

Six months ago I can see Adam slitting a girl?s throat in the living room. I see blood seeping through the crevices of her braces as she screams for me to help. I can?t really hear her though because Adam has Beethoven?s fifth playing in full blast on a loop, so I can?t even hear my heart slam against my rib cage.

Six months ago, Adam sees me standing in his doorway watching him hold the girl down. Her eyes wide.

Six months ago Adam makes me an accessory to murder so he doesn?t have to kill me. So he can trust me.

At least that?s what he tells me. Whether he keeps me around to show off for someone or because he actually likes me is still unclear. Adam says:

?I love you to watch. I want to open your eyes. This isn?t something I do because I had a fucked up childhood, darling. I kill people because it opens my eyes. It helps me to see how fragile and simple things are. Crush a skull. Slit a throat. Its so painfully easy to just die. I like to keep that in perspective. You can?t really appreciate the beauty and perfection of something until you?ve seen something horrifying. I do it because it opens my eyes, sweetheart. It makes me see how beautiful you are. And I want you to see it too?
Adam says my anorexia makes me see something ugly. Something that isn?t there. And he wants to make me see how beautiful I am.

Six months later I?m, sitting on a toilet in Adam?s bathroom helping that black eye in Adam?s tub, see all the Lewis Strat it missed. I help it look until there is nothing left for it to see. I sit back against the toilet and look at Lewis Strat?s eyeball between my index and my thumb finger. I wonder if he ever got to see any beauty. The thought doesn?t really stick in my head for too long and soon Lewis Strat is looking at me from the inside of a toilet bowl.

Flush.

I walk down the stairs to get my bag from the kitchen. As I walk in, Alex is stepping inside and closing the sliding glass door. He takes of his gloves and throws them down on the white marble table. He takes me in his arms and kisses my neck. He looks at me.

?To think I have to starve my eyes of your beauty for another night.?

He sighs.

He kisses my cheek and walks me to the door.

?You?ll see soon. You?ll see how immaculate you are. And how beautiful everything around us is. Soon you?ll be able to see everything?

I walk out the door into the cloudy miserable grayness of a Monday afternoon. Alex is right. Things are beginning to look more beautiful. Suddenly?gray is such a pretty color.


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In the near future, you can imagine every big evening will begin hours earlier with you getting sucked on by different appliances, each of them making some part of you bigger for a few hours. The whole evening will then be a race to get naked and accomplish some lovin? before your parts snap back to their original sizes. -Oragami Lips

[Miral]

I've already said this and I'm gonna say it again.....this story is excellent!!!
*hugs*

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~There are a great many people in the country today who, through no fault of their own, are sane.~
~Is that my hand in your pocket or am I just happy to see you?~
~You want me to dress up as Wonderwoman, tie you up in my golden lariat and make you tell the truth, don't you?~

[Tyler Durden]

Pushing to the top.

------------------
In the near future, you can imagine every big evening will begin hours earlier with you getting sucked on by different appliances, each of them making some part of you bigger for a few hours. The whole evening will then be a race to get naked and accomplish some lovin? before your parts snap back to their original sizes. -Oragami Lips

[Branflakes]

Wow.

------------------
Branflakes, the ninja lesbian milk getter.
The one Necro calls "brain".
Call me what you want, just don't call me Blue Falcon. Wait! Nevermind! Just call me!
Your smell floats in my memory, long after you've gone.
"See that star...the one shining brighter than all the others? I know the girl who hung it there."

[Kimo Temperance]

Tyler,

This to me is almost like a movie script. It's unnerving, because I can see the scence cinematically with a narrative voice over. Your work has that kind of visual punch-- and your material has that dark cinematic accessability.

Like I've said-- you remind me of Garth Ennis, but-- if you can imagine this-- I found this work to have a much sharper bite.

I'm also glad you don't try to undercut the violence with any half-ass humor-- which would I think have been a mistake.

The central question I have is why does this individual (am I correct in guessing this is a female?) remain with Adam? The scene with the girl, the blood on the girl's braces, the blaring looped Beethoven-- that's a horrific powerful scene. The narrator's reaction is a bit . . .underplayed.

The narrator's anorexia and low self-esteem/image and Adam's blissful domineering sociopathy I'm certain are coming into play here-- but the Adam's threat of naming her an accessory to murder don't seem to carry much weight. I guess I curious of her own motivations.

I can see by the end, that the narrator begins to see the beauty in gray-- but her motivations in the earlier stages give me a pause. Mainly because of the arresting, violent images-- they are so powerful; her responses stands out mush more.

Just curious. But overall-- intense.

kimo

[Tyler Durden]

Thanx a lot Kimo. Let me clear some things up for you.

I didn't really write the conversation that was shared by The narrator and Adam the first time she sees him kill someone.I figured that would kill the momentum of the story but I guess I have to figure a way to get it in there. What happens is that he sees her on the top of the stairs and he chases her into his room where she begs him not to kill her. Of course Adam finds her sieringly beautiful (especially after he's just killed someone) and can't bring himself to kill her. So how can you keep someone alive who knows a secret that can destroy you? How do you keep someone close to you with this secret without worry they will betraying you? Adam makes her his parter. He makes her part of the murders so that if she ever tried to go to the police, Adam has evidence that she helped him kill thereby ultimatly damning herself along with him. This way Adam can trust her and work on showing her how beautiful she is (Because deep down in a sociopathic kind of way, he really loves her), and she can continue to live. The only catch is that whenever Adam kills someone, she has to help him. What does Adam get out of this? He gets to show her how beautiful she is and gets help with his work. And deep down, the narrator knows Adam is right about seeing things that are horrific, and shes beginning to become a sociopath like Adam.

------------------
In the near future, you can imagine every big evening will begin hours earlier with you getting sucked on by different appliances, each of them making some part of you bigger for a few hours. The whole evening will then be a race to get naked and accomplish some lovin? before your parts snap back to their original sizes. -Oragami Lips

[Kimo Temperance]

Tyler,

I think that the conversation/confrontation between Adam and the narrator is key to this story. It's crucial enough a puzzle piece-- that the piece is actually less effective without it.

And I don't think it will be a distraction as much as add another layer of tension and menace. It would give her willing helplessness a great deal more weight, and give the twisted nature of their relationship much more depth.

I enjoy the eye motiff that runs through the piece, and the eye as a hole-- a dark void things fall into-- I think that's a concise statement you make about the way the narrator is coming to view the world. The acid burning tiny holes in the tiles is a paricularly vivid image.

you write fiction like good coffee-- straight dark-- no sugar and cream.

kimo

[Tyler Durden]

Thanx a lot again, Kimo. I'm glad you liked it, I was scared it was a little too twisted. I added this part, tell me if you think it holds up the mementum and makes things more clear. Thanx.

Vision
By Justin Hughes


Splash.

I try to avoid the flying drops of hydrochloric acid that splatter on the linoleum floor. As they land, they burn white spots into the black squares of the checkered tiles. Almost giving them eyes.

Splash.

Sizzle.

The acid starts to eat away at the severed appendages that Adam is dropping, one by one, into the tub. One of the flying drops splashes onto my pants. Giving it a white glaring eye. I look at Adam.

Bastard.

The blood in the bathtub isn't really red anymore. It's that kind of salmonella pink that covers the countertop when you pull a raw chicken out of the package. Along with the acid bubbles, the blood and body parts of Lewis Strat's anatomy float at the top of the tub. Adam looks back at the wide gaping eye on my pants, which have now been bleached into being tacky. He smiles and looks at me in that ambiguous glare that could either be na?ve innocence or playful intent.

"Sorry"

Adam drops all of Lewis Strat's parts into the tub except the forearm and his eyeball. He picks up the arm and hands it to me. He gives me another elitist's grin and whispers:

"Accessory to murder"

Right, I say.

I pick up the arm and lower it into the water slowly so as not to create anymore eyes on the floor or on my pants. I watch it float to the top. After about an hour of Adam watching me watching Lewis Strat dissolve, Adam pulls a black garbage bag from under the sink. He pulls the cork out from the drain with a wire hanger and waits for the black eyeball in the tub to suck all the liquid into its retinas. After the black eye has seen all the fluid Adam scoops up all the Lewis Strat sludge that wouldn't cooperate with the acid and throws the mess into the bag. He stands up and moves towards the door.

"I think you left your bag in the kitchen, don't forget to grab it on the way out. And do me a favor; rinse out the rest of Lewis so he doesn't stain the tub. Thanks, babe."

I don't look at Adam but I nod my head. Adam is taking Lewis out to the back yard where he'll add him to his mother's compost pile. That pile along with Lewis and countless other unlucky people are allowed the pleasure of helping Adam's Mom's carrot patch to grow.

This is six months after I'm standing in the doorway of Adam's room. Adam's room is at the top of the stairs and it over looks the living room with the off white linoleum floor. I'm waiting for Adam to get home so we can finish up our history project. Before she leaves for work, Adam's mom tells me Adam will be home any minute and I should wait up in his room. I wait for an hour until I hear noises down stairs.

Six months ago I can see Adam slitting a girl's throat in the living room. I see blood seeping through the crevices of her braces as she screams for me to help. I can't really hear her though because Adam has Beethoven's fifth playing in full blast on a loop, so I can't even hear my heart slam against my rib cage.

Six months ago, Adam sees me standing in his doorway watching him hold the girl down. Her eyes wide.

Six months ago, I?m on my knees and my eyes are staring at me from the reflection of Adam?s blood soaked serrated knife. I beg Adam not to kill me but he does nothing but smile at my shrilling voice. The knife makes a loud ringing noise as is hits the floor. Drops of blood fly off of the blade and speckle onto my face. I snatch the blade quickly and rise to my feet. I tell Adam I?ll kill him if he comes anywhere near me. Adam is still smiling when he slides his arms around my waist and pulls me against him. He does this so slowly, gracefully, intimately that I can?t help but let him hold me. He looks into my eyes and tells me that he can?t let me leave if he can?t trust me. Adam?s gloved hand slides the knife out of my hands. He whispers in my ear that if I help him, he?ll let me go.

When it?s over I?m looking into Adam?s eyes. He?s telling me that the knife he had taken from me has my fingerprints all over it, and that once I touched the body of that girl I became an accomplice to murder. Adam is touching my cheek and smiling with a look of soft amour in his eyes while he tells me this.

Adam says: ?You have three options. You can go to the police and damn yourself along with me. You can help me and I can show you how beautiful you really are. Or you can pick door number three.

What is behind door number three, I ask.

Adam says: ?You can help my Mother?s carrots grow.?

Adam says my anorexia makes me see something ugly. Something that isn't there. And that he wants me to see how beautiful I am. At least that's what he tells me. Whether he keeps me around to show off for someone or because he actually likes me is still unclear. Adam says:

"I love you to watch. I want to open your eyes. This isn't something I do because I had a fucked up childhood, darling. I kill people because it helps me see. It helps me to see how fragile and simple things are. Crush a skull. Slit a throat. It?s so painfully easy to just die. I like to keep that in perspective. You can't really appreciate the beauty and perfection of something until you've seen something horrifying. I do it because it opens my eyes, sweetheart. It makes me see how beautiful you are. And I want you to see it too"

Six months later I'm, sitting on a toilet in Adam's bathroom helping that black eye in Adam's tub see all the Lewis Strat it missed. I help it look until there is nothing left for it to see. I sit back against the toilet and look at Lewis Strat's eyeball between my index and my thumb finger. I wonder if he ever got to see any beauty. The thought doesn't really stick in my head for too long and soon Lewis Strat is looking at me from the inside of a toilet bowl.

Flush.

I walk down the stairs to get my bag from the kitchen. As I walk in, Adam is stepping inside and closing the sliding glass door. He takes of his gloves and throws them down on the white marble table. He takes me in his arms and kisses my neck. He looks at me.

"To think I have to starve my eyes of your beauty for another night."

He sighs.

He kisses my cheek and walks me to the door.

"You'll see it soon. You'll see how immaculate you are. And how beautiful everything around us is. Soon you'll be able to see everything for what it really is."

I walk out the door into the cloudy miserable grayness of a Monday afternoon. Adam is right. Things are beginning to look more beautiful. Suddenly?gray is such a pretty color.


------------------
In the near future, you can imagine every big evening will begin hours earlier with you getting sucked on by different appliances, each of them making some part of you bigger for a few hours. The whole evening will then be a race to get naked and accomplish some lovin? before your parts snap back to their original sizes. -Oragami Lips

[Branflakes]

Wow, Tyler. I like the additions. Really helps, I think.

------------------
Branflakes, the ninja lesbian hair gel and milk getter.
The one Necro calls "brain".
Call me what you want, just don't call me Blue Falcon or Branni.
Until the time you come back to me like fate.
"See that star...the one shining brighter than all the others? I know the girl who hung it there."