As the walls fade, and the music fades silently out of existence, all the comfort of my light sleep is gone.
I get out of bed slowly, not bothering to put my hair back into a better ponytail and out of it's rat's nest, and then grab a backpack out from under my bed and put the notebooks into it, along with a lighter, the other can of ravioli and a small candle.
I've already decided go and spray-paint something, perhaps in my sleep was when I decided it, but it was the first thing on my mind when I woke up.
It's the only thing I'm good at. Making art, creating masterpieces. No, it's not Picasso's work, but it's all I have. The graffiti is mostly made up of quotes or cartoon characters or just doodles. I have almost every street caked in the paint.
Except one. And I think that's where I'll go right now.
Outside, on the roof of the apartment complex in a small plywood shed is where I keep my paints, because inside is too dangerous- too much risk of fire. It's a long trudge though, up twenty-eight flights of stairs.
As I'm leaving my apartment, I leave the door open, because the key was lost a long time ago and when it shuts, it locks for good. Once I was in hurry to put out a fire and accIdently slammed it shut as I left.
When I got home I couldn't get in so I had to spend the night in a different apartment. It was creepy and I didn't like it. Then in the morning I had to break the window open by throwing rocks at it. The rocks ended up going much farther past the window, and smashed a hole in the wall. (To this day, I still haven't patched that hole up.) After three days, I finally found a ladder and was able to climb up back into my apartment. It was horrible.
So, anyways, I left the door open and walked into the plush hallway. The soft carpet squishes under my feet as I walk. I take a right at the end of the hallway and go into the stairwell to begin my long journey up the stairs.
I've been climbing them for an eternity before I reach the hatch. The hatch is pushed up by my hand and I squirm through the open hole.
Now I realize how long I've been asleep. The sun has disappeared and left the night to do its thing. The frail beam of light emanating from the silver-white moon spills across the tops of the buildings and pours over where it can onto the city streets below. The colors of the paint blur together and form a rainbow of unorganization. My eyes look to the stars, brighter than they ever were before. I see millions of them, dipping across the sky. They remind me of the wedding ring my dad wore. He never took it off, even after Mom died.
The city looks like a normal city, skyscrapers and suburbs and parks and cars, but too dark. There is no light. Nothing, except the moon above me. It lacks the pizzazz and glamour that I once thought amazing. I can't even remember the city's name. It's always been My City.
I don't want remember. This is just one of those things that hurts to think about. It can be compared to a plug in a drain: if I pull that plug, all the memories come flooding back. That can't happen. I can't break down again.
The shed door is slightly ajar. Opening it up all the way, I find my supply. About a hundred canisters of spray paint lined along shelves and rows. It's a small shed, seven by seven feet, abandoned by the managers of the complex who used to use it for keeping garden tools when they used to have a rooftop garden.
The spray is most of what I could find in the city. There was no doubt that there was a shortage of spray paint before the Parade. I've used about sixty in the long time I've been here alone. I try to use ugly colors so I can use the pretty ones after I've got rid of the ugly ones.
I can't see the colors to pick them out. I take a lighter and the candle out of my bag and get a pot holder from inside the shed shelf.
First, I stand far away from the shed. Next, I put the candle on the ground and then take the lighter and holding it at a distance I... slowly... flick... the... lighter... and then run.
The area around the candle burst into brilliant golden and bright red flames for a split second, and then shrinks down back to its wick.
I laugh out loud, just because I like the way flame makes an intemperate lash at the air but goes back to the candle like nothing happened. It's actually comical.
My hand wraps around the pot holder to pick up the candle. I shine the light forward as I make my back to the shed. No, I can't take it inside the shed, of course, I just put it outside so I can see into it.
I rummage through the shelves for a few minutes until I have all the I want- a midnight blue, black, an earthy green, bright yellow, red, and dark orange. I've picked out colors I don't usually use, because I'm going to paint something special today. My supply only has three or four of each of these colors and once they're gone, I'd have to travel to one of the suburbs to get them again so I have to be careful with what I have.
I carefully arrange the spray paints in my bag, blow out the candle and put that in with the lighter and put my bag on. Back down the hatch I go, almost falling flat on my face in the process, down the stairs, then I'm at the lobby.
The lobby smells like dead people. I hate that smell. I hate that smell more than anything in the world. Three men died in this lobby, I am reminded every time I'm in here. I have already buried the bodies in the east side park, where I bury those I find.
My gets tucked into my shirt as I hurry out the door.
Now, outside the moon shines directly down on me, turning my skin silvery with a bluish tint. It's kind of pretty.
I travel to my destination, excited I thought of going here. I find myself at my city's main park, my dad and I would go here all the time with Toby when there was still people. I haven't been here since before the Parade. It's probably the only place I haven't gone.
The park seems to have lost its majesty. There are no more flowers in the the places there should be. Grass is overgrown and creeping through cracking cobblestone sidewalk. The trees need trimming and the benches are falling apart because of the weather they've seen.
In the middle of the park is a band shell, which all sidewalks lead to. That's what I'm going to paint.
I stretch out my back and drop the bag to the ground in front of the band shell. It's beautiful in the moonlight. But, as I look down I see a sad sight.
Our old neighbors, Kevin and Rose, lie crumpled on the pavement slightly inside the band shell. I want to cry. They were like parents to me after my mom died. They helped me through some really tough times. I decide not to paint the band shell after all. I'll come back when I'm more prepared to bury the bodies.
I lean over Rose's body and say a prayer, barely taking the smell of dead. Then I do the same to Kevin. Memories start flooding back and I can't take it. I put my backpack back on and leave. For now I guess I'll spray paint over by the city's southern end.
The city is a city on a hill. Literally. It overlooks a suburb named Jameson on the nouthern end where the lake that surrounds the city ends. On the southern end there are tons of neighborhoods that stretch for thirty miles until the next asphalt jungle begins.
As I walk to the southern end, I'm so out of it, I barely notice the light in front of me. A noise startles me from my thoughts, a rustling ever so faint. I look up, surprised. I see a light. Maybe it's just a reflection of the moon on something shiny, I think at first. But then it begins bobbing.
The light wobbles unsteadily for a while and then stops.
Now I'm crazy. Maybe it's a person, I start to think. Or maybe it's Toby. I'm not sure yet. I run towards the light with all my strength.
~~~~~
PBP here!
This chapter was hard to type!
Phew. I was kinda rushed to get it finished, I hope it doesn't show.
Fun fact: this story was originally part of my NaNoWriMo story I never finished. I got to about 15,000 words and just dropped out. My goal was 50,000. The year before I did NaNo with a goal of 15,000 and finished, but I never typed it out, just wrote it with pencil and paper. Same with this one actually....
Anyways, vote and comments are very appreciated!
-PBP is OUT!
