This Blog category is where I will be publishing any really good writing sent to me by young authors which I consider deserves to be seen, but may not be quite suitable for the Amy Peppercorn website.
I am impressed by this piece of writing from Curtis – it is intense, breathtaking and also slightly scary. But Curtis has a remarkable turn of phrase and a fascinating use of the English language. I hope to see more from him in the future.
‘How long can the body tolerate this doom-struck craziness?’ Hunter S. Thompson- Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Something wicked this way comes. The crash had arrived, but hadn’t yet gone, for my soul is still in pieces.
When you’re at your lowest, and there’s nobody there, that’s tolerable. You see, you have yourself, and the thoughts you can conjure up are enough to ease the pain you think has cursed you. It’s when you want to be alone, and she’s there. She tells you that it’s right when it’s wrong, and what’s wrong when it’s right. Brutally she stamps on your confidence so that you can taste the reality you think you drown in. And when you’ve fallen for her, and your shattered remains stain the pavement you sleep on, she leaves. Then your ruptured soul ponders over the awful things you’ve done and said to the people who you once adored. You’re tired wrists look pathetic. Slowly and painfully you decay, the torture of your own thoughts is entertaining to her. Your soul enters a freak show, open all week with free entry for everyone to come and laugh at. When you’ve been through this torment, you have truly brought forth Nothing and all of his frightful cousins.
Her name is Mandy. You see, Mandy is a deranged feast of overwhelming emotion. Her presence bears gruelling consequences and treacherous sadness. Minimal anger evolves into violent rage and a tear progresses into a tortured state of depression that rips your soul apart leaving you numb and broken. But it’s all worth it, right? Mandy makes you think, yet makes all the difficult decisions for you. Gold poison. My friend. A confined felicity that I refuse to sacrifice. She’s overpowering and I know that soon she will disappear. The dreaded crash was fast approaching. Relentless waves of unforgiving madness that leave you wiped out and pale. But Mandy was still there, and so was I. She used to make my strawberry nose tickle. Chatty, loving, ecstatic and always energetic, she was my fuel for happiness.
Last night was my final experience with her. A harrowing farewell symbolised her departure. I also spent it with my beautiful girlfriend, we had only got back together yesterday and within two hours my twisted shenanigans caused morbid upheaval. You see, for weeks I was departed from her, and you turn to things when you think you’re at you’re lowest and have Nothing. Drugs become diet. They take away the crooked effects of Reality and replace them with delicious fantasies that erase the pain. But when the crashes come, Reality seems like heaven. However, when Reality has you tied up in the basement with ropes attached to your feet and arms, slowly moving further apart, any escape is worth taking.
I was in bed lying next to Sue, the girlfriend; she was so real. This wasn’t a fairy tale that I needed magical potions to experience; she was pure like a baby’s innocence. Her back curved into my front as I rested my head on her smooth neck. The scent from her luscious perfume invaded my nostrils like an explosive attack from cherubs and angels. My right arm was slung round her. She cupped my hand round her breast like it was a fascinating toy and I was a peculiar child who would remain entertained for eternities. Softly, she kissed me. Her lips were smooth and her steady breathing was peaceful. Soon she returned to her previous position. I was accompanied to sleep with the white noise of her mellow breathing.
That night I dreamt heavily. She was there next to me, telling me how she had looked after me and now that I was with Sue, I wouldn’t need her any more. She wasn’t the same…she was ghostly. I was paralysed with fear. She got up and said that I didn’t deserve this happiness; that I wasn’t worth it. Soon she was strangling Sue to death; everything was silent as I watched her struggle. It was painful for me, but intoxicating. The pleasure I gained from it was exotic.
I woke up this morning next to a corpse; my hands were black and blue like the deepest oceans, nobody knows what they hide. ‘Why would she have made me do that?’ I thought hopelessly. I was alone and emotionless. Reality was slowly starting to eat at me. Silently I ventured to the barn. Before I needed these manipulative fuels I had true happiness, Love. Sue and I would go to the barn and lay for endless hours staring into each other’s eyes, talking about meaningless rubbish but never losing interest. This was our happy place. I lost her, so I turned to Mandy. But she used me.
The irony of our happy place is that a noose remains slung in the centre from the morbid suicide of a young man a mere few months before our relationship started. His grave is our haven. But in destruction, lies recreation… and Sue and I were recreating happiness that we never thought we had. Now it was different. When you have Nothing, that’s when you truly notice something. Not everything, that would be a miraculous act of god that no human is possible of, but you notice something, and that’s always enough to push you over the edge. That something is relief, something you want because you have Nothing. Unfortunately, that something can be twisted and poisonous.
My final dose rests above. The septic rope is my invitation for escape, with no consequences. Nobody understood me, I am a blank canvas waiting to be coloured. I never had paint. The rope is my brush, the suffocation is my ink. I don’t paint clearly, because nobody would put their glasses on. I’m just not worth the time. I’m a stain, the substance was never important, but everybody starts caring when all of me disappears except the lifeless remains.
Forgotten yet blamed, my canvas is burnt.