Already missed the Sunday night deadline because am dumb.
Anyway this was inspired by a writing prompt, but I used it more as a jumping off point for a weird idea. Turned into a hearty short story with some sort-of character arcs and a twist ending? It’s not very good!
I was in a killer mood. Freelance work was a rough enough business, but today had been a real bitch, since I'd been cut outta another deal by the same anonymous shithead as usual. Shit like that was bog standard in this industry, but after awhile you started to get extra sick of it. The world really is against you, kids, and it's on you to work against it. The only people you can count on are the ones right next to you, your pack. Friends who'll show up at a funeral they got nothing to do with just to comfort you when you need 'em. For me, that was Leo, and today, he needed me. Whether I was in the mood for it or not didn't matter, I could bite a bullet for a friend. I walked down the city blocks to his apartment, and there he was waiting outside.
“What up you motherfucker!” I shouted.
“Lionell! Hey, watch your language, people are just getting to bed.” He embraced me in a big muscly hug.
“Yeah, and the fuckin' crimelords are just getting up. Why the hell'd you want to talk to me so late?”
He frowned, “Just had to talk, I really appreciate it.” Then he set off walking down the sidewalk. “But if there is a crime, I might have to ditch you.” He added. I followed.
“Naaahhh,” I said, trying to preemptively lighten the mood, “If anyone pulls a gun, they're gonna have to go through the Kings of the Jungle. We've made it five years here together, and whatever you're going through is somethin' temporary.”
“Actually, it kinda is the fact that we've been here for five years. Five whole years, and I've been doing the same darn thing the whole time.”
“Mhm, poor guy got a steady job.” I rolled my eyes.
“Well, you make it sound silly, but yeah, it's kinda too steady. I feel like I haven't changed at all in the past 5 years. And y'know, when nothing changes, you feel staleness hanging in the air. Everywhere. It sucks. But- it's just a feeling right? You shouldn't give feelings like that any credit. Because, you're still technically doing the right thing, right? So what if you plateaued, as long as you plateaued somewhere good...” Leo paused for me.
“I guess, it's just like, when you get this far along from the original reason you started, it's impossible not to doubt it? It's just natural that you phase in and out of passion for what you're doing. But you gotta try not to think about it, because if you think too hard you'll let the self-doubt in. You have to just, take it on good faith that your original reason for starting out was good, and is still good.”
“Holy shit. You're an athlete not a fucking starving artist.”
He said apologetically, “I know! I'm well off, this is a stupid problem! Like I said, I'm trying not to give these ideas any credit. But the truth is, I've had this on my mind for years.”
“Really? Managed to keep it a secret from me. How many?”
“Maybe two. Not one of those things you can pin down. But, I've been telling myself it's not a problem for a long time. I'm telling you about it now 'cause I think that was unhealthy.
“No, I'm glad you told me. But I'm not sure what you want now...” I questioned.
I looked him over. Weakness was unlike Leo. I'd never seen myself in him like this. Ever since we moved to the city together, he'd been successful, confident. He'd handled things so much better. I'd learned that the world was an impenetrable current of misfortune, so when I saw weakness, I saw an opportunity to take advantage of it. But this was my friend, my pack, and when I saw weakness in him, I knew I had to protect him like he'd protected me.
“Plateaued, huh?” I asked, straightening my speech a little, “I- I see what you mean, but I think you've got the wrong perspective. You still gotta strive for self-improvement, even if you don't achieve it. Because otherwise you're not actually plateauing, you're just slowly losing altitude. Uh... It's like sharpening an axe every time you use it. You don't just do it so you can have the sharpest axe in the world, you do it so your axe, at least, doesn't get duller.”
Leo smiled coolly. “That's... a good point. But, I still feel like, uh... I think my physical axe is plenty sharp, I think I've kept it in good condition. Like, my skills, I mean. They're top notch, I make sure of it. But again, it's a mental thing... I think my mental axe is dull... And I have no clue how to sharpen it.”
That really threw me for a loop. “I- I see what you mean... Wow man, when you put it like that I really feel you. I don't think I was giving you enough credit. I figured you were blowing this whole 'mid-life crisis' thing outta proportion, 'cause I've always figured you for kind of a meathead. Bein' an athlete seems as simple as you can get to me, but what you're describing is a lot like what I been feeling. I guess... Well, you're not alone.”
He smiled again. “Yeah, that's a comfort. Bettin' a lot of people go through this... But I'm still not sure how to get through it. I really have to shake this, for other people's sake, not just mine.”
“Okay, we gotta find you your grinding stone! Backin' up here, time for a little armchair psychiatry... Uh, you mentioned your 'original reason' a couple times earlier. What's up with that, seems pretty important here?”
“Well, I can't really talk about it...”
“Okay, I know you can't talk about behind-the-scenes business-y shit. ...But how did that make you feel?” I said, holding out a pen like a microphone. “The 'origin' thing, not the stupid secrecy thing.”
He stopped walking. We'd made it seven blocks. It was properly dark now, the lamp-posts were coming on. There were no cars on the street and no other people on the sidewalk. The only thing nearby was a shitty old phone booth that hadn't worked for a decade. Leo stared at it.
“Well, it was... like, a big... inspiration. I was all kinds of inspired.” He paused, then sighed. “I disappointed someone. Like eh i- it was a nightmare-level thing. I messed up and I was feeling like shit,” His cursing caught me off guard, but he continued, “A lot like right now, but way worse. The difference was, at the time, I was able to... convert it all into this crazy intense determination. That person was a perfect storm of inspiration, and I just acted on it... Everything was crystal clear and, and, and perfect. It was really like I just got handed the sharpest axe, d- mental axe I mean. It- it didn't seem like I'd ever have to sharpen it!”
“W- Wow! Bro have you been, like, riding a high for 5 years?”
Leo sighed again. “This is really hard to explain without actually explaining what happened.”
“Well I think I'm getting it. It sounds like you need another hit.”
“Okay, I don't like the drug analogy. It's a littl-”
“Course ya don't ya boy scout. You get what I'm saying though. You just need to sniff out a new source of inspiration.”
Leo stammered. “Because we're- talking about... some complex shit here! This isn't the kind of inspiration you can just sniff out.”
“How is one type of inspiration that different from the next?”
His mouth tightened like a tight-rope as his teeth clenched in frustration. “D- g- This is impossible to talk about! GAH.” He swung at a lamp-post like he was going to hit it, then slowed down and hunched his head against it.
“I don't think so. Inspiration is probably everywhere. It's one of those ephemeral kinda things. It's also, as you have demonstrated, disposable. I wish I could look for you buddy, but unless you let on a little more here, this is the best I can do.”
Leo lifted his head. He had a confused look, like two halves of his brain were butting heads in an attempt to fuse. “Maybe they're the same thing.”
“...You. …Telling you everything... And fresh inspiration... They might be the same thing!”
I was the confused one now. Leo had this crazed look.
“Yeah! Forget it. This might be perfect actually.”
“Shhhh... Okay, no more confusion. Everything's gonna make perfect sense. Gimme a second.” He dashed into the phone booth, hastily taking off his coat.
“Wh-” I watched the phone booth rock and shake, and after a minute, Leo emerged in-costume. “WHAT THE FUCK,” I screamed, “You're Leonidas?!?!”
Grinning from ear to ear, Leo stepped forward proudly, “Yeah,” He held his hands up in a gesture of confirmation. “Everything makes sense now right?
I was silent, but my look confusion was verging on disgust. I grimaced and spat, “Did you let someone die!? Is that what you meant by disappointed? That you killed them?”
Leo recoiled, not expecting such a fatal shot, “Okay, d- yeah.” The leap of logic had put him off his desperate action, and in the delay he rationalized, “That just makes sense I guess.”
“Yes! And the important part is obviously that I took that to heart. It inspired me to save others!”
With mouth still arched in revulsion, I repeated, “...Myeah. What the fuck.”
“I don't know, what? This is not how I expected you to react!”
“Sorry, this is just, a particularly big pill for me to swallow.”
“W- Should I not have told you??? I was just trying to do what you told me. You said inspiration was probably right in front of me, and I realized you were right. I've been trying to live with this as a secret for years, worrying that it might be unhealthy, but the solution was right there! I don't know, I was so desperate, I might have just done something really selfish... 'Another hit' might have been the right phrasing after all, ah Jesus.”
“No.” I looked at him with determination. He looked up at me. “I'm glad you told me this...”
He heaved a massive sigh. “Ohhh, god, thank you.” He exhaled in satisfaction.
I shot him in the heart with a gun. “...You motherfucker.” He fell over dead.
“Glad you got your inspiration.” I smiled in disgust, standing over the lifeless body. “Y- you thought you could just skip over the fact that the 'good friend' you killed was my SISTER? Like what, I wouldn't get it? Guess what. That fucking funeral was my inspiration too. I'M THE FUCKING FANG!! I've been seeing your vigilante ass once a week for years, right up to this morning, you piece of shit; been trying to kill you just as long.” I thought of my sister, saw red, and spat on his corpse.
“Thanks for the pep talk though. It was just the inspiration I needed to get back on the horse. Good reminder that the world is fucked, I can't trust anyone, and I should be taking advantage of everyone!” I smiled cruelly. “Fuck, if even the 'hero' gets his inspiration from the 'friends' he's killed, I oughta be set for life.”
Can I critique my own work? This would work better as a comic for sure. And even then it’d need serious reworking because the superhero thing comes way outta left field unless you’re paying attention to the wording of some of the dialogue, and the friend being a supervillain is almost nonsense even though that was the original crux of the idea. I’m sure a reread would improve one’s enjoyment, because there’s semi-clever foreshadowing, but as it stands it’s compelling enough to warrant one. Good practice navigating weird character arcs and dialogue, but I’m chucking this and moving on.
