Instant

It happened straight away, without delay.

I don’t know how, I wasn’t there.

It was a fair enough reaction to make, given the pressure, given the time.

I lay back, I waited, I slept.

Time passed.

Then came the dawn.

There was a howling outside.

I think it was a dog.

Maybe it was a person, maybe they were hurt, crying, wailing, you know.

I went downstairs, the house was dark, empty, I felt tired, I was still tired.

It wasn’t good.

I looked out of the window, there was a light, bright, intense, like headlights coming towards you on a dark road at night.

There was a whistling.

I heard more cries, or howls, whatever. I didn’t like it, I was afraid and I don’t’ like being afraid. And then it happened…in an instant.

It happened.

Afterwards I felt better, like new, or clean or both. I looked up, the sky was gray, it always was round here, I didn’t complain. Now it’s important or good, I can’t decide which. Neither really apply fully to what I’m trying to say. I think my speech has been affected. I’d like to know who is reasonable. So now I try to think back, I’m looking, I’m forming something in my head, but it isn’t working right. My head that is. It’s not all connected, it’s like a load of wires all mashed up, or something else, something worse. I’d like to stop, to stop and think and understand but there is this quick thing, it’s like inside of me and it decides.

It is there and deciding and I just sit back and let it.

I don’t even seem to be bothered about it. It does It’s thing, whatever that is and I’m not arguing. I can be watching Jerry and suddenly it springs into life, it shocks me, or decides. It tells me how important it is, it knows things and it tells me them or tries to, I’m not listening, or trying not to. Then it goes, I feel better, I’m allowed to drink, or look at the TV again, or get up and make a sandwich or eat a hot pocket, or go to bed. But it keeps reminding me.

I’m coming downstairs and there is the intense brightness again, right there, through the porch way and the cries and then I see them all like I was on dope or something, their faces, their eyes, moving, seething, immeasurable faces. They are trying to ask me something. They want to know why. They are suffering. When I want to describe something it’s easy with this, nothing else works really well at all, but this. It’s all there, easy as pie. The faces in the light, moving round, I know who they are, they’re all dead, all of them, some from some time ago, others are older, worse for shape, like a fog, or a haze, like a long time past.

I wanted to get rid of them, I tell them I don’t care, why should I care? Who are they to me? Who are they? Why should I feel bad, why should I go through this, these things, these lights and faces, and cries, what’s it all to do with me? I don’t bother no one, I try to tell it that. I tell it good and hard, but it’s not listening it keeps reminding me. It tells me in an instant and that instant will last forever it says sort of. It keeps at me. I go up and down the stairs like an idiot and opening the door and trying to change my head and my brains and I don’t know, it’s not fair or right. It’s all somewhere inside.

So I take a good blade and cut it out, I decided. I’m deciding now.

That’s the answer.

I can feel it somewhere in there, it’s right there.

I can’t feel it, it moves under the skin, like a worm or something.

Then it shocks me and shows me it over and over the instant, always the same instant.

I’m sick, I’m ill.

I’d like to tell someone, or show them, but what’s the use, they’ll be laughing alright.

Well what’s the use of that. I’d still have it here.

They don’t have to put up with it, they can live in peace, why not me?

So I see it now, it’s right there, between my ribs, it’s moving, it’s kind of pulsating or something, up and down, up and down, up and down, it’s like a yoyo.

I’ve got it now though, that’s it.

I cut it in, it goes deep, there is blood, a lot of it as well, but it won’t beat me anymore, it won’t show me anything anymore nothing anymore ever.