Dépaysement

Acatalepsy

The night bridged across the sky, like an unknown force altering reality into it's own image. I let out a puff of steam into the raw early September New York air, and watch it spread out of existence. Maybe that's all that we are. People. Just waiting for our due dates and for ourselves to vanish out of existence. As if time had consumed us into a black hole.

I was never one to buy into that surreal afterlife stuff that people were so confident in. How can anyone be so sure there's anything waiting for us in death? The whole thing is pretty unsubstantial. I mean you do one thing and it can possibly condemn you to a pit of fire?

The pre-autumn leaves crunch underneath me with every step I take, while the almost "au naturel" trees strip tease along with the wind. A car passes by honking me. I don't know who's in the car, but considering this is a pretty small town in prude upstate New York, I probably know them...and possibly dislike them on a more than moderate level. This town is like every small town you see on a TV. Everyone knows each other, everyone has their own clique, everyone is holding an imaginary knife behind their back dipped in fake smiles, fake emotions and poison.

My house comes into view, and in a few moments I open the door with jingling keys in hand. I'm greeted by my mom's voice from the kitchen.
"Mason" my mom calls "Is that you?".
"Yeah".
I don't stop to say hi, a common conversation can easily turn into an invitation for "constructive criticism" with my mom.

I close my room door behind me and look around. Everything is in place, organized, which is absolutely not the way I had left my room this morning. My mother with her omnipresent OCD must have cleaned it. And then I see it. Just hanging there on my wall above my bed, mocking me. As if my defiance was merely a rebellious teen phase, and this was just some joke.

The crucifix that was given to me on my 12th birthday, there it was...out of its hiding spot from under my bed. I clenched my fist as my blood began to boil, and pick up a book from the shelf near the entry way. I threw it as far as my anger would let me, in the direction of the half-baked excuse for an object of "holiness". But it didn't budge, not even an inch. The pointless decoration hung there triumphantly on my wall. It was as if it had a mind of its own, made specifically to piss me off. And boy was I pissed off.

I marched downstairs to the kitchen, where the obnoxious OCD lunatic was baking her usual Tuesday night meatloaf.

"Mason" my mother said in surprise as she turned around and noticed me leaning against the kitchen counter. Her eyes wander down to the moronic ornament in my hand. She frowned as I narrowed my eyes at her.

"What were you doing in my room?" I asked.

"I was cleaning" she said rubbing imaginary creases out of her dress.

My hand clenched around the cross in irritation"Oh, well I didn't know cleaning required snooping around looking for something hidden very well underneath my bed, Sherlock" My eyes are staring laser beams into hers "Remind me to give you a Scooby snack next time".

Her back straightens like a soldier "You watch your tone, I am your mother and I will not stand for this disrespect, am I clear".

And in a blind fit of rage I throw the crucifix at the wall. My mother's hand collides with my face so hard that I hit the floor.

I look up at her face "And there we have it, Mrs. Holier-Than-Thou committing a not so holy deed, what are you going to do?" I ask "send me to my room so I can learn my lesson like a good little boy..".

She glares down at me with flinty eyes, her face is red, and her lips were trembling.

"Whatever" I get up on my feet and step back outside into the brisk weather and begin walking. Where to? I don't know, but anywhere away from that makeshift Catholic Barbie house is good enough. I hear a ding chime from my jacket pocket. It was a text:

Mia
I'm bored ;)

With nowhere to go and nothing to really do, I head over to my beneficially bored ex's house. On my way I pass by the town's main attraction, the abandoned house. Its foundation was crooked, vines and moss had spread over the cobblestone walls like a virus with no vaccine.

I've  heard plenty say they've seen ghosts looking through the windows. The yard was connected to my backyard through a large path of stringy grass and trees, it was like a meadow. However, I chose not to use this path as a shortcut, not because I was scared or  anything. It just wasn't practical.

But something was different about the old cobblestone geeezer. A U-HAUL truck was parked outside on the side of the house. Who the hell would want to move into that trash hole? The moving crew, who were all shrimpy looking by the way, were moving a bunch of stuff inside the house-like museum. An old looking couch, boxes, more boxes, and a stag's  skull with feathers hanging from it. What the hell?

When all the men go inside, a figure emerges from the house. She had dark locks of hair, was slender and tall. She waved at me with lanky arms and a smile. I didn't get a good look at her face, I didn't want to, neither did I return her greeting, I just walked away. I didn't want to be in kahoots with someone who was into whatever freaky stuff they had going.

A few more yards of land down and then I'd soon be killing time by screwing my ex while her parents were out of town.