Tales of the Lost & Forgotten

HUSH, HUSH Chapter 1

* Description of Story- "Mikel Cobain, is your simple kind a guy. He hails from the coffee capital, Seattle, determined to make something out of himself. He spends his nights in coffee shops playing for free on his old worn out guitar.  Anything to be heard, hes running away from a dark past, but he doesn't realize that the more you hide and try to forget, the more it builds. He's losing this battle, one he doesn't even know he's losing. It only gets worse, when he keeps seeing a mysterious girl with black hair and kissable lips. Someone who looks familiar, but yet everytime he tries to talk to her, she dissappears."

Maybe it was the smell of coffee in the morning,

Or the way the sun leaked through the dingy shades.

In which the sun attacked tickled my eyes, egging  me

to rise from the rough slumber.

Or perhaps it was the afternoon traffic down below

that made me drag my lazy ass out of bed.

Whatever the reason may be, I still got up.

With a distant pounding in forehead, the

sudden mini migraine was so bad I had to

hold onto the chipped door frame until the 

black spots disappeared and the fuzziness

vanished. I remained there and told myself

to take slow deep breaths  and count to ten.

The sudden attack caused a spark of anxiety

Igniting like a little flame only growing hotter

and hotter.  Moments like these I wish I had

someone who lived with me. Even a fucking dog

for that matter. But still, even if I had

a girlfriend, who would get up with me when

I was feeling alone andhold my naked waist

 from behind and pressher  warm with my cold,

 she’d let out a small laugh.

The kind that would send goose’s throughout my

back, my anxiety would disappear with her sweet laugh.

I let out a deep chuckle, expecting a warm laugh

In return, but instead got a dead echo of my own

emotionless laughter.  I let go of the frame,

steady now. I made my way to the small kitchen.

It wasn’t even one of those nice kitchens, you know?

The ones where they paint the walls marble white

and add rough new gray carpet, stain free.

No, this kitchen was done half assed, vintage feel

to it. The walls were faded green, with “beautiful”

*note sarcasm* matching used yellow appliances.

There was also an unusual dark brown stain in 

the far corner of the kitchen, I suspect someone got

murdered and that the foreign man Ali, the landlord, who

forgot the body, but still charges the dead man anyways.

I know I’m a sick twisted bastard, but I can’t help it,

the mind wonders when one is alone.

I kissed the automated coffee maker and poured

the black stuff in my favourite cup, which I may say

was decorated with cats attacking pink balls

yarn. It cost me a total of two bucks at some yard sale.

Come to think about it all my dishes are used, and about

50% of them have some form of a freaking cat doing 

something mundane.   I let myself smile, it felt weird.

A simple real human action, but I didn’t feel  “real”.

Skin pulling back, stretching over lips, forming

a fake grin.

I stopped smiling and blew the steam of the top,

sending tendrils of fog rolling down the side.

The  sound of traffic suddenly invaded the apartment,

and a cold breeze snaked up my back. I turned around,

thinking I must have left it open last night. But I couldn’t

conjure up last night to appear in my head. It was blank 

and empty, the more I thought about it, the more the

pounding in the front of my head increased. So I pushed

it to the back of my mind and turned around reaching up

to open the cupboard to get the peanut butter. I didn’t

even get the cupboard open a crack, when something fell

out and landed on the faded yellow counter  face down.

You know that feeling, déjà-vu they call it, well I had

 a bad case of it just then. I set the cup down, the breeze

behind me increased bringing  in a scent of, clove cigarettes, 

and vanilla. Staring intently, I flipped the photo over, 

right away noticing it was a faded Polaroid picture.

A big black M was drawn on the front across the face of

a girl, no,  a woman.  Honey brown eyes stared up at me,

 behind the black M.  Dark coal curls fell loosely off her

shoulders. I ran my thumb down the side, as if I would feel

warm flesh, but no, it was cold. She had a splatter of freckles

across her tiny nose and across her cheek bones. Pale pink lips,

and fair skin.

“ I know you?” my voice started me, it was dead, filled with question.

But I did know her... at least I thought. The pounding in my head

Increased, I squeezed the bridge of my nose, using one hand

I opened the drawer and slipped the faded Polaroid in.

The pain stopped,  I straightened my back, and closed my eyes.

“ I know you” I whispered slightly.

Searching my head, I couldn’t bring her face to form, just black.

A sudden laugher filled my apartment, it came from the corner

with the dark brown spot. The laugher was sweet, and bubbly,

the kind a guy like me would swoon for. But just as fast as it came,

it died.

I shook my head, I really needed to get some sleep, It was already

6:30 AM and if I didn’t get ready for Uni, I’d be late for my first

class. Walking away from the kitchen, I couldn’t keep the damn

Polaroid off my mind, it was literally burning a hole in my head.