#doarch things

Hours and minutes and days alike were lost to your mind. A constant beeping kept what you called a schedule the same, it reminded you of where you were and where you should be. It was there, far off lost in your pocket. The beeping that drew your attention from the ceiling. A phone. Not the only phone, but the one you kept closest to you. The other sat forever plugged into the side of your bed. Always there, never changing always waiting for something or someone to call. Someone who would never call. Who were you waiting for to call again? The smooth screen of the one that fit into your palm felt easy against your thumb, gliding and tapping endlessly. Just a swipe and the noise was gone and once again you were drowned in silence.

While your mind was forever a drift, your body kept living—but not alive, you didn’t feel alive. Just living. It functioned on autopilot, going in and out of your day with nothing to show. It was a wonder how it hadn’t stopped yet. Rising you from the couch and directing you to the kitchen. Any feeling of hunger had left you long ago, why eat? There was no reason to. Still you did. Warm and rosy coloring of strawberries met the cutting board. Sweet juices dripped down from the long dulled blade and you managed to catch yourself in the reflection. Nothing.  For a bit, you just stared at it. Watching the color melt onto the board, staining it til its next wash. It was such a pretty color to see drip from the blade and you wondered if for a moment if it would hurt if the blade would drip from you too.

Traveling from the strawberries to your finger you  tapped the tip of your finger against the cool metal, a soft tinking noise called from afar for you. You would answer the call. Pressing the tip to your finger you pressed down. Nothing. Harder. Nothing. Harder. Nothing. Harder. Nothing again. After so long, a small river ran from your finger down the blade, crashing like a waterfall to the board where it mixed with the red of the strawberries. It was all numb. No stinging pain or heat. Just numb. For some reason, something like relief washed through you.Standing there you watched the color trickle and flow. There was no reason to stop it for now.

Finally you took the blade away, it wasn’t doing anything for you. Lifting your finger, you placed the cut appendage into your mouth. While the pain might have been stale, as your tongue nursed the cut you found the taste lively though. It was vibrant, sharp like the knife it had been cut with. Part of you knew better, but another part wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again. Would it taste the same if you did it to someone else? Would it feel different? You wouldn’t know. You’d never hurt another person before, it was something you weren’t too sure about.Actually, you weren’t sure how to feel about most things considering it all. It was doubtful that you would ever find out, despite the idea seeming almost…appealing? If you couldn’t feel it, why would they?

A sharp noise broke your dangerous train of thought. A rasp at the door. With the thought still bouncing around in your head, you set the knife down. You could use it again later. Removing the finger from your mouth, you expected the fresh sting that always followed, you found nothing though. Nothing, nothing, nothing.  What continued to be odd was that you hadn’t expected anyone or anything today. So why a knock. It was startling to some level and part of you felt something that couldn’t be named. You should likely get the door.

It felt like floating in a  strange way. Walking, running or moving in any other way. Would it feel like this forever? You didn’t know. It was okay you guess.

The knob felt cool in your hand as you opened it, it was nice. Sitting there in front of your door was a box, simple and plain. No name, no address, nothing on it. Was this for you? You didn’t remember ordering anything.Perhaps you had forgotten, that seemed to be happening more and more lately. Still, with nothing to mark it how did you know if it was really meant for you? Dipping your head out the door, you looked around. No one stood there but a janitor whose name you couldn’t remember.

What an odd occurrence. It was very possible you had ordered something where the packages were meant to be anonymous but what? Picking up the box, you brought it inside and moved to place it upon your table.

Next to the table was a large wall made of windows, it allowed you to look down below and hear the light noises of the cars passing by in the city. It was something to fill the silence that now often rung throughout your hive. It was also very good for taking pictures, something to pass the now overwhelmingly large amount of time you had. For a few moments you stared, just watching the cars go by, the lights of the night flickered on and off and in its own strange way it was beautiful.

Back to the box though. Simple fingers fumbled with the tape unsuccessfully incapable of prying it off even with your nails. Perhaps you should have kept the knife. You had known you were going to need it again.

Another noise stopped you, a soft ringing. So far off, so familiar. Why? No one ever called you. Why would they, it wasn’t like you could speak back. This ringtone though, it wasn’t yours. While it was familiar, your new iphone sat on a coffee table in sight. No, this was not your phone at all. It was hers. Hot stabs of something rushed into you, like a sword being pulled out of the forge just to be shoved into your chest. It took your breath away, it felt good.

Like a ghost you traveled to it. It had always been kept by your coon. Plugged into the wall, always on. Always waiting. You didn’t know why you kept it there. Perhaps because it was the last thing of hers you had. It had pictures of her in it, of you and her together. You had gone through and deleted all the ones of her and him together. You wish you hadn’t now. Never had you been able to tell him. No matter how many times he had called you or her, no matter how many messages he sent or how much he had pounded on the door. You never could bring yourself to answer or open the door. What would he say? What would he do? You had murdered the love of your lives. She was gone and you both were left without answers.

You wonder if he cried as much as you had.

The phone vibrated in your hands, the peppy old pop song recorded off a radio cheerily ringing out. The number was one you didn’t know. Perhaps he was calling again after all these sweeps just to see if maybe this time someone would pick up. Well maybe this time you could. You couldn’t provide many answers nor could you speak, but at least one of your minds could be at ease. Flipping open the phone, it was brought to your ear.

“Hi, It’s ‘Kaiteh’ from Hotline Miami’s dating service. We have set up a date for you this evening! She’ll be waiting for you at Southwest 53rd place.Please,make sure you wear something fancy!”

The voice that came through made you blink, not just once but twice. The troll on the phone, her voice was bright and bubbly. She seemed so excited to be delivering this message, but there was no way that this message could be for you. Never in your life had you signed up for a dating service. Why would you date anyone? You weren’t in a spot to commit yourself like that. You didn’t want to commit yourself like that just to have it ripped away again.

Click.

Before you could do anything, the line went dead.Now some poor troll was going to be waiting at Southwest 53rd place, with no date. It was a miserable thought to imagine, them just waiting alone for someone who would never come. It sounded familiar. Like a bad echo of memories that rang through your head. More red hot shoots through you. As you snapped the flip phone shut, you needed to take a deep breath. For a moment you wanted to look through the pictures, to soak in the ache that could still rest in your bones, but you decided against it and into your pocket it went.

Leaving you to think,why would a dating service call her phone? She had been dead for almost a sweep and a half now. It made no sense. So you kept it close just in case it would happen again. More questions without answers.

Speaking of questions without answers. The box once again came into view. Oh so calmly on the table. Just part of the series of odd events of today. That call sealed your resolve to open it. There was no way that these things couldn’t be connected somehow. It sparked something in you, a rush that you wanted to know. Stimulation. Not feelings but stimulation. Passing through the kitchen on the way back, the knife met your hand. You were going to open the box. It was easy, opening boxes always was. It was being careful that was the hard part, since you didn’t know what was inside something could break or be easily ripped  or stabbed if you were too rough with it. Once the tape was sliced, you set the knife down and hurried to open the box. There was a letter on top and then a piece of paper covering whatever was below. Fumbling a bit, part of you wondered if you should open what was in it first before reading the letter. No, no you needed to slow down. You wanted answers.  Picking up the piece of paper it was simple. No fancy font or anything, just plain typed black text.

‘Dear Ms. Morzzo,

It is a pleasure to welcome you to 50 blessings from us to you. Alternia is a tune, we must sing it together~  We are here to help you on your date tonight and those to come with our divine judgement.

Your goal of the date is to prove you would be a worthy match of your date!  Our judge and jury will inform you later this evening once you’ve dropped your date off along with their briefcase at 819th Barker st, how well you’ve done and how you can improve for next time! We are sure you will do great and your date will simply be quite the hit!

We’ve included something fancy you should wear tonight and recommend you bring a weapon, you never know what kind of weirdos could be out there and your safety is always our top priority!

We will be in touch with you soon!!

— Blessed be is 50 Blessings’

This…This was no date. This was a call to murder, there was no other way to look at it. They were the judge and jury, and they wanted you to  be their executioner. It sent shivers down your spine. Killing someone is something everyone thought of now and again, and some trolls did it. You were not some trolls. You didn’t want to kill anyone, there was no thrill of it for you even if the thought sent tingles to your fingertips and toes. It was tempting though almost enough so to actually go and do it. To see if the rush was real. But you had already done more than enough.

Far too much. It should have been you. You. Not her. Thoughts like this haunted you late in the morning, when you stood on the edge of your hivestem, watching the cars below wondering if you should take a walk and join them.

It would be meaningless though, whatever waiting for you beyond this wouldn’t be her. You didn’t care really what was past this.There was no point to living for you and no point to dying either. So you just muddled, meaningless, lost and stuck in an endless loop of empty.

There was no point even musing upon this either. Setting down the sheet of paper, you perhaps would take the time to inform someone later, probably not. The paper would likely sit on the table until you had the energy to throw it away. Maybe you would go waste another few hours with netflix, just to have something to do. It wasn’t like the shows interested you, they just kept you busy. Before turning back your eye had managed to catch the other thing in the box. Oh right, there was that as well. Well, now that you’ve read your call to murder you might as well look.

Lifting the paper, whatever it was was soft against your fingers. You could see it more than feel it. Cushioning softness of feathers. What was this? Turning and turning the strange ball of feathers you finally found what it was you were looking for. A mask. It felt like you couldn’t breath. Heat crawled out of under the collar of your jacket, creeping and biting its way up your neck and face. Your fingertips for a moment felt the soft plush of the feathers under them and your legs just a bit cold from your air conditioning. You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t understand, but it clicked somewhere in the back of your mind where you couldn’t reach. Oh Mothergrub.

You would do it. You had to. You didn’t feel like there could have been any other choice in your mind. After the biting heat melted you could feel the icy air hit your face and electricity danced from your fingertips. You should drop it, get away from it far away.  Yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of it. It felt almost meant for you, something deep inside you said it felt right. It would be your shield, it would make everything better and you could feel alive again. Okay. You would go for them. See if the rush was real. This one thing had tipped the scale, it had been the winning point for them. They had got you and you would do what they asked. All because of a chicken mask. But only because for a moment, just for a moment. In a deep ringing voice from somewhere you couldn’t name, it spoke.

‘There’s the Birdie’