Untitled: Part I, Section III

***

The smell was overwhelming. Even though he worked with these kinds of smells day in, day out, he couldn't seem to get used to this one. It surrounded him completely, making it impossible for him to call for help. It was the smell more than anything else that was destroying him, eating away at his senses. It was the smell of violence and of hatred. A smell of fear and of pain. It felt as if he had just opened Pandora's Box. The smell blurred his vision so that he couldn't see what was happening. And in a way, he was thankful.

He knew he was dying. He had dealt with death enough to know that. The pain had long been forgotten as his senses had been numbed by the smell. It infiltrated every pore on his body, it became a solid barrier against which he was helpless, so that all he could do was think.

He thought of his small apartment, only a couple of blocks away from the morgue. He thought of his dog, Blip. Who would feed him? Who would take him for his daily walk? He thought of his mother and how there wouldn't be anyone to answer her weekly call. His eyes filled with tears as those thoughts raced through his head and suddenly, his vision cleared. The sensory overload felt like someone had punched him in the face. The smell was gone, but he could feel that something else had taken its place. He looked around him and what he saw froze his face in a look of utter despair and terror. He gasped once and keeled over.

***

Untitled: Part I, Section II

He snorted. Yeah, the best they had and the only one they knew who didn't have anyone but the Agency. Where would he go? Yes, the best they had, but they could fire him and they would at the first sign of resistance. They knew he had nowhere else to go. Without the Agency he was practically homeless.

He sighed. He had been backed into a corner by his employers who were threatning him with the sword of loyalty. He twirled his pen. To sign or not to sign. He sighed again. The monotonous script of his contract blurred his vision. Six years of nothing but dedication and they hand him this double-edged blade. If he refused, he would lose everything he had worked so hard to achieve and if he accepted, he might as well put a sign that said 'coward' on his forehead. Cowards didn't survive long in his world. He was sure Burton heard his third sigh next door. Vulnerability didn't do so well either. He was disgusted with himself for letting a stupid order affect him like this. It was his job to follow them. He had sworn an oath.

With an irritated growl he slammed his pen, nib down, into the table with such force that it didn't come out when he withdrew his hand. He looked at it with an annoyed glare. Thinking was for the executives, his job was to follow orders and he was known for being damn good at it. He got up, walked away from his desk, shot the pitiful contract a last heated glance and walked out his office door.

Untitled: Part I, Section I

Damn them! Damn them all to hell! If they thought he would pass up an opportunity to be part of the biggest field mission since '94, they were wrong. They could shove their patronising bullshit up their asses. He had been nothing but loyal to the Agency ever since they had hired him, and this is how they repaid him? Well, to hell with them.

He smiled bitterly as he thought of the irony of the situation. He had been admitted into the Agency with high recommendations, praising his natural ability in the field and now, they were threatning to 'let him go' if he was persistant about the field work. What a bunch of crap. They could never fire him. He was the best they had!

On Stage

(A single candle on the stage
Burns slowly
A dying requiem in the night)
Poor little marionette
Where is your puppeteer?
Why do your strings lie strewn across the darkened stage
Without the fingers nimble
(Jack be nimble)
to alight your heavy arms
Raise you high, raise you strong, rise arise

Why are the seats clear
Why are the lights dark
Where is the audience to cheer you on
Your puppeteer guiding you
Be bold, but not too bold!
Be fast, be quick
(Jack be quick)
Don't fall, don't stumble, their eyes are on you!

The stage is yours
Freshly varnished wood gleams in the torchlight
Hear them! Hear their cries and cheers!
For you, all for you
Dash the burning candle
Jump high, ride on the fiery euphoria

Don't play with the fire
You'll only get burned
and fall, spiralling, to the dark stage.

Where are the lights? Where are the cheering crowds?

Where is the puppeteer?

Why did they all disappear?

Poor little marionette, all alone

The dying candle flickers

is gone.

Gone.

The World is Rushing Me By

The world is rushing by.
The world doesn't seem to be stopping for me right now.

Usually it doesn't mind me hitchiking on the hard shoulder.
It doesn't mind giving me a ride,

But right now, the highway isn't even in sight,
As I walk under the rain.
I don't mind the rain,
It is refreshing and light,
Filled with promise of a brighter day,
Telling me that I'm simply at a pitstop.
The world will eventually slow down,
Get off its high, its rush.

It is a bit confusing,
I'm being lulled into consent by the rain,
But the world is still rushing.
I wonder if it will ever stop,
I mean, it has to if it wants to be re-fueled.
That's what the rain is implying,
And I'm on the verge of trusting it completly.

For now, the world is rushing me by,
And for now, I'm going to wait till I can find the shoulder again,
And then I'm not going to hitchike,
But stop the world in its tracks,
Make its tires squeal till the marks can be seen on the ground.
Then I shall be rushing by the world.

Doubt

You can never quite touch me, but I am always there. You sense me, but cannot see me, no matter how quickly you turn. And you can never escape me, no matter where you hide.

I am just on the cusp of realization, hovering outside your thoughts as you futilely grasp at straws. And when it comes to the moment, that shining moment of victory, I drive deep into your thoughts, to your very core of being, and leave you shaken and beaten.

I am the niggling worm beneath your skin, itching at your thoughts as you plan and prepare and think. I am the shadowy whisperer that subtly alters your perception of reality, making you distrust your friends, allies, and even dreams. At the very cusp of realization I shall come forth like a wave to knock you down, a tsunami at your doorsteps. I will be there when you are born and will be there at that very moment when Death knocks, chuckling, at your door.

You will fear me, loath my coming, detest my presence. You will wish that I had never existed, to ruin your brightest dreams into derelict blackened husks. And you would die before you would admit to needing me, needing my words and presence and that smirk lingering on the surface of your mind. But need me you will all the same.

Lie, or Truth?

Fear, or Love?

Does it really matter?

I am here all the same.

Here, to stay.