Society.

Crash Landing - An Introduction.

Another beautiful day dawns as the light streams into the house and falls upon the blankets that lie sprawled against the floor in the tiny, unfurnished room, at the bottom of which lies fallen in dreamless slumber, the main character of this story.

His eyes are not entirely shut, and are open a tiny slit, and as the sunlight creeps into his eyes, they awaken, and blink shut once more before the owner of the eyes turns around and lays away from the light of the sun, staring into the wall on the other end.

It is a bright and beautiful day, but there appears to be an unspoken sorrow embedded within his large eyeballs. What troubles those eyes we shall see in a moment, but until he wakes up and goes around performing his various morning ablutions, let us escape from this room, step out the door and walk into the next room.

This room is not unfurnished. It is complete and replete with what appears to be Victorian furniture and the drapes that lie as curtains across the windows of the room don't let much light inside. This room is almost immediately cooler than the boy's in the next room, and the reason for that is in all its apparent splendour, the drapes alone. Within the dim-lit room, the warm glow of the sunlight cuts through the drapes and flows silently through over the floor and onto the bed where a man and a woman lie asleep on two different ends of the bed. They turn away from each other, but there is a blissful depth in their slumbering eyes that seeks to calm you.

Trace a path out of the room and back into the sunlit corridor, make your way down the stairs and go down to the door which seems to now  be open a crack and as you slip out you would find a man leaving the door ajar and making his way to an old model Yamaha RX 100, which he climbs on, revs up, and drives away. The man is the same as the boy in the first room, and while before he wore nothing, now he dons a leather jacket over a black T-shirt and a pair of starch black Converse sneakers that deign to hide the boy's previously hidden masculinity.

Where he goes, we do not know.

Zoom out over the road and speed up your gaze and you will soon find the boy on the bike speeding down what appears to be a freeway that leads out to the edges of the city. "He is making his way inside," you conclude as you watch him enter the suburbs. Fifteen minutes later, he has entered. The city is quiet. He seems to stop at the first turning that appears and step off the bike that he parks against the footpath between two already parked cars. He walks into a dark alley that is yet to witness the sun's rays and he stands against the wall and peers out over the edge of the street before he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from the satchel we previously had not noticed hung over his shoulder. He takes one out and after shutting the tiny brown box, he drops it back into his satchel and pulls out a matchbox with the same hand. He balances the cigarette between his last two fingers and proceeds to light the match with the other fingers as his left hand holds the matchbox. He closes the matchbox with his left hand, and passes the lit match to that finger before he lights the cigarette and drags up a drag before letting out a steam of smoke and flicking the lit match away, watching the fire shut off at the force of his flick as it careens through the air and drops down against the footpath. He keeps the cigarette between his lips as he puts his fingers into the satchel once again, and pulls out a pair of blue headphones that he sticks onto the top of his head and plugs into his phone. He steps back onto the RX, and drives back out onto the freeway, after Frank Ocean starts a sermon in his ears.

This time we follow him again, and the same earlier sorrow is apparent in his face, though now a bit milder, and hidden, due to the the red ash billowing out of his upper torso and escaping into the horizon. I think now is the right time to let you in on the fact that states that the boy you now see, cutting past his neighbourhood and his house with the door still ajar, at a hundred kilometres per hour wants to kill himself. Didn't you notice the signs already?

We watch the boy move the vehicle faster and faster until the bike is stretched beyond its possible limits before he swerves to the left dangerously into a place where there is no road and this is the moment when we notice that when he restarted the vehicle and drove out of the city central, he never did open up the kickstand. Wilfully. You can imagine what happens next.

If you look close enough and start counting off the seconds with the fingers of your hand, you will see the kickstand hit the tarmac and flip the bike into the air. The boy seems to be flying in the sky, in slow motion, with the cigarette butt exiting his now smiling mouth, and his eyes, closed in apparent zen-mode, and the headphone has flung off his head and the blue wire appears to be wrapped around his neck and the slow motion David Fincher scene ends, as a tremendous crash envelops the solitude in that moment of joy that brings everything back to reality.

What reasons do you think prompted this want for death, and what gave courage for the creation of a circumstance to descend into the trap of the will to die?

Look ahead and we shall see.

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(Hey guys, this is going to be a long story, and I'm going to enjoy writing it. Please upvote and share. I'll try to post at least a chapter or maybe two, per week. That way, I'll keep them coming. Lots of Love, Sam.)