Brandon

The Concrete Graveyard

The light didn't last long, it faded within the blink of an eye, again though, I was staring at the city. Something had changed though, not in appearance, but rather in sound. The city lights, remained stationary, no more were the honking of car horns and roaring of engines, the yells and barks, the joy, the anguish, the life blood of the city had drifted away. Standing alone on that rooftop I realized for the first time that the city was very reminiscent of a concrete graveyard. Hulking structures barren of life, looming over my insignificantly sized form. I felt so very alone as I made my way down to the street below and paced along the empty roads, the people were gone. It was if in that brief second I had been blinded they had been plucked from the earth, life had been stolen from them, as I knew it would from me someday, to all of us, not now though, now wasn't the time.

I knew this and thus I also knew this wouldn't last. A typical person would first be incredibly confused by such a situation like the one I endured, but once that initial confusion subsided, most would likely recognize they benefits they could reap from such a circumstance. I took these benefits into account, I could get away with anything, I had anything I wanted in New York City at my fingertips. There was nothing I wanted though, nothing physical. I wanted to be loved, to discover what my purpose was, not steal vast sums of riches, or the newest electronic technology. Those weren't essential, I had what I needed and frankly I was too preoccupied with my new oddities to bother with entertainment.

This was an opportunity, as I saw it, to think. My mind could never wander when I was a child, it could, but not in the way it does now. Back then there was always a distraction, whether it be school or the newest video game, even spending time with friends, it would seem to halt my mental voyages. Or turn them around in some cases so it would begin to seem like I was walking in circles, making no progress in my life, although that hasn't really changed. Except now I am lacking the friends, the friends that although hurt me, would always save me in the end. They wouldn't always let me move on, but they never let me stop. Everything is different now, I constantly tell myself that as I wake up each morning, looking at my same dead eyes in the mirror, they grow with age as each day passes and never do they brighten.

My existence is so lonely that the vacant industrial forest that I now roamed felt almost homely. Funny enough that it was in the quietest of environments, the loneliest of lands that my purest thoughts would come to me. I finally knew why I was so confused, why part of me despite all my efforts always seemed to be missing. Love. I had forgotten how to love, for the element had dropped out of my life all too quickly too many years ago, but it didn't matter now. I had too much to worry about now, too many things that preoccupied my time, things of vaster proportions, that I knew in some way would cause greater ripples. My personal desires would have to wait, now is a time for discovery, and if there are ways to return to this place then I must become a master of the voyage, for this is how, this is how I will discover when there is no other way, in the city of silence.

The silence wasn't to last though. It was broken by, not simply a noise, but a voice. The city was so clear that I could her the voice clearly without too much of a struggle, despite the speaker being hopelessly out of sight. Even though I couldn't see the bearer of this seemingly disembodied voice, I assumed it belonged to a female, the voice was soft and despite having the beauty of youth, it was soaked with a deep pain. What she was saying didn't make much sense, she was speaking softly, she was so confused it seemed. When I turned the corner I saw her, she stopped talking and I realized my initial assumptions had been correct, she was quite young and had a darkness in her eyes. I drew closer, noting that this darkness was not something of corruption, but rather more reminiscent of a scare that might be present on the flesh, carved by a deep wound that will never quite heal right.

I wondered why she was here, and then realized that she was real. Not simply a figment of my imagination, but rather an actual multidimensional being, that she had her own life, her own emotions, her eyes alone conveyed this to me. This meant that this location, this plane that I was now present in was not unique to my mind alone, could it be connected to the minds of others, or has this girl been brought to me for a reason. I wasn't one to believe in the supernatural or fate, but with the recent occurrences in my life such things would not be taken heavily.

Walking had been easy before, I had been able to move freely, almost gliding across the surface of the cracked pavement beneath my feet. Now though things were changing, it seemed to almost become a liquid, my legs felt like lead. I observed that the girl was suffering from the same ailments. She hadn't made an effort to communicate with me yet, even as we drew closer so I offered forth a greeting, prompting response. She did respond, but not in the way I was expecting. I was praying silently to myself that she would bring advise, say something relevant, something useful, I was let down.

She was telling some sort of strange tale of some traumatic incident that occurred, she didn't seem to know much about it herself, other than the fact that she had ended up screaming and in the ER somewhere in Alabama, many, many miles away. I held back a chuckle as she mentioned these things to me, not because of what she was saying, but rather due to the fact that she referred to me as "mystery man". She was almost panicking as she spoke to me, I knew she had no idea why she was here and also knew that telling her what is going on with me and who I really have been in the recent past would probably trigger more panic inside of her. I decided to play a different card that I hadn't had to in a long time, sarcasm, or deception, I was being the opposite of charismatic.

I called her a drug addict to trigger some level of dispute, unbalanced the conversation in my favor since she was now frustrated. Somehow during that minor debate I realized that her name was Maya, she also learned my name so I didn't have to suffer through any more of that mystery man nonsense. Keeping up the sarcasm was hard, she had a very negative opinion of me as that conversation went on and I wanted to just act normal, tell her the things that were happening with me, learn more about her and her problems, make a friend maybe, try to connect with another human being who has also suffered. I knew though that would soon likely be separated, and that separation was permanent so avoiding making proper connections was therefore essential. I just stalled after that, making hopelessly pointless remarks and then trying to further confuse her about the situation, just long enough so that she couldn't really think about what was really going on too much, who I really was she could only see the surface, like a dark watered pond, and that was ideal.

As we talked people started to fade back into existence, first their torsos then limbs, and she started to fade away. She didn't seem to see me anymore as I called out, seriously now, I didn't want her to go, I realized then as she disappeared that that was my shot. My only chance at truly finding someone who might begin to understand the places I go. Unfortunately, because I had been so focused on discovering more about the girl, I forgot that I was standing in the middle of the road. This hadn't been a problem when the city streets were frozen and cars stood like plastic models waiting to be rearranged. The trouble now was that they were traveling at speeds of thirty miles an hour directly at me.

...Too slow...