The Madcap Cries

Chapter Two: Trying to Place

Chapter Two: Trying to Place | Valep Mopi

The traces of beer rambling about in the boxed bar caused me to gag, but I oversaw the new sensation. The insight I heard, calm muttering swept past me as I joined others. I attempted to mingle, but all my struggles shrunk into none. Giving a hopeless sigh, I paced away to a different corner across the room, searching for a refreshed start in beverages.

"Need a cigar?" A drawled voice mumbled from my backside as I sat down at the tall stool. Swiftly shifting sides with ease, my eyes met ones that seemed to be black holes.

I shook my head in a hasty wagging motion, basing my thoughts upon childhood filled rhymes. Yes, I was still alone and wondering inside of childhood dreams, but it was a specific trait I kept besides the deep corners of emptiness that remained prospering. 'Stranger danger!'

He was still gawking at me, humming an unfamiliar tune that was a bit muffled and pixilated in an eerie noise. This man seemed like he wasn't really here, but his presence was oddly intimidating. I gave an uneasy sigh, "No, but thank you."

The man nodded afterwards, clinching onto his pack and reviling his own, closely examining it with his bulky eyes. "Alright," he stammered alongside his own words that were adrift like his sight. Lighting it, he took a timed puff while leaning back in mid air. Drowsy was what he was and appeared, all his emotions spilling away into one whole enduring appeal.

Silence was our only barrier between us, the two of us observing everyone around us in a synced matter. By this time I've ordered a beer, and he smoked at least five cigarettes with a look of boredom screwed onto his isolated face. He had an odd ability at concentration, his prospect was set in the far distance. Forlorn in belief.

"I'm Valep, by the way." I began, attempting at forcing him to reply back. It was no use, his own point of view was vigorous for him to see me. "It's nice to meet you, y'know."

He nodded, smacking his lips as if he were chewing tobacco without showing any contact towards me. "You're a fool, Rica." Muttering, he still drawled and tripped at his carefully chosen words. He suddenly began to chuckle to himself, throwing his head back without a warning. This man was unpredictable in his own twisted ways that had me braced for the foulest.

"What?"

The man snapped his head in my direction, staring uneasy at my sizable nose. "Hm?" He keyed, trading his mood for a childish change. He was a bit loony, or so it seemed in an outsider's opinion. This daft man could be an exact reflection of this place; the way they act in this fairly large city.

My head uncontrollably shook after my consideration, I craved for this conversation to end even though I wanted to start it up desperately.

I slouched over, viewing him from my peripheral vision as I took my sip of beer. It had a biter taste which made me cringe at both thought, including physical sights; his keened sights.

"A-are you sure about drinking that bullshit?" He probed, causing me to jump at his sudden twanged words. Eyes still gawking, curly brown hair towering over him as if it were blocking his view of me.

I had to counter at his statement, "Nope."

He gradually nodded, "I'm Syd, too." With that, he faced his forward again, not saying anymore of his reduced words. They oddly attracted me into wanting to unmask more about him. "Die, Rica." He muttered at an intense tongue, again with his 'Rica'.

This time I didn't bother to ask him who, or what she is. So I slumped farther down into my seat, viewing my curly hair by it's hefty image. From the corner of my eye, I spotted him staring at me with bagged eyes now. He then cleared his throat, probably attempting at a jump from me, "What year is it?"

I scrunched my thick eyebrows tight in an unbearable motion at his strange remark: offbeat. "It's 1969?"

"Thanks. . ." He muttered now looking at the ceiling while blowing numerous puffs from his cigar.

Fluttering my eyelids violently, it was far too much for me to take in. This man was seriously mentally ill. He seemed far from reach, but his specter was still near my senses. I stood thinking of his simple complexity that was too much to take in, grasping at my purse and wishing the beer hadn't come in a glass jug. My mind desired it to come along with me; exactly like Syd, the strange man. I jolted at that, abandoning my lonely mind of a loner.

"Where yee goin', Valep?" Syd quizzed, after I took my first steps away from him. "Won't you miss me?"

I suddenly felt sorry for him, I shifted my weight to one leg and faced him. His eyes worried with an unknown pain, "I gotta' go."

He slouched, steering his hands through his hair as if he were conducting an odd faced car, serving countless times in his own land. "Alright," Syd muttered, "Rica dislikes you."

My eyes wondered to the ceiling, and then meeting his eyes that drowned. He seemed fried, like his mind was fried helplessly from drugs like the majority of us apart of pop culture.

"Certainly," I cleverly replied with a smirk, pacing further out the boxed shape bar. When the moon came into contact with my skin, I gradually felt a tiny relief come over me in a grieving sight:

'She was long gone, long, long gone.'

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All the credits for this chapter go to a very special person who helped with an edit a few months ago, @SuperStarrRingo!

-Louie Becton | 2013