Not A Happenstance » Alex Turner [On HOLD]

2009: Nothing seems as horrific as the..

 

Today was the day I left the hospital. This was the fact only I knew, ridiculously claiming, that it's only my business to take care of myself. I was nothing good at anything at this moment, but the thing was; I had to keep up with living. Despite terrific bruises still blossoming all over my skin, and this splint tightened up over my wrist, I was okay. Well, that's what you'd say from the first sight.

Every since I got conscious I knew that everything has changed. That's the irony of life; you are never completely sure about the day after this. 

More than two weeks the one thing what was all over my head was the pile of concerts awaiting for me and pals, and it needed a night to make it look meaningless.

For everyone to know; I am not quitting. Maybe I wasn't the most regular guy before, and got a little bit worse now, but there was no single matter what could pull me apart from music.

To my sorrow, I happened to be frightened of another little drug playing a secondary role of my life; love.

I heard how a little bell above the door greeted me, almost making me flinch from the sudden, as I walked in this not so common place to visit. 

I could breath in the smell of basil and rosemary, filling up my lungs to the level I needed some fresh air, and the book shelves could've cause a serious case of claustrophobia, just by losing the entrance from your sight. 

I carried on my way, not even sure about where exactly I had to go, just the sounds of rustling leaves guided me behind the curtain, to the back of the shop. 

"Who's there?" A squeaky voice called for my answer, as I saw a tiny woman figure turning around to look at me.

"Oh, come on here boy." She smiled, waving aside, inviting me to little cluttered room, which was hidden behind one more curtain.

"I'm Alex Turner, I called you yesterday." I rubbed my neck, thinking of what kind of humbug, I just got in, as she sat in front of a square table, showing to sit me on the chair beside her.

"I know, the clinical death case. A bit different than others, I may add.." She went silent, grabbing my palm and placing it on the desk, which was loaded with books all around. I won't even start telling off the titles, because you, might I say, I was making it up.

"Oh boy." She murmured underneath her nose, looking at me, when looking back down to my hand. "What have you done?"

I? I did nothing. I run through my life in a second, and of course, I did things. I did regretful, but repairable things. I didn't know why all of this was happening to me. Why me?

Her hands cupped my palm as she closed her eyes, tuning out of this life, or at least it looked that way.

"I hear can hear people screaming, shouting. But it's something that warms your heart, something you were destined to do. You are a great singer boy, and there's no need to be a psychic to say it this way." She opened her eyes with a smile. "My granddaughter loves your band." She smirked, and then her face fell into an unreadable mimic.

"However, besides it, I hear swearing, yelling, glass breaking, gunshots. The life you are living now is like a little repay for the lives you had before. It's calm, safe, but satisfying. In the back, all I see is blood, your hands were stained by it more than once. It wasn't always your fault, except one time." She looked me straight in the eye now.

"There was a crime, and there is a punishment, my boy. I can see you suffering from it, it's like a chain that will always pull you back. There were ladies, lots of them, just as much as there was blood. Tell me boy, did you meet any of them in that so called hallucination?" Her fingers slipped away, letting my hand free.

I needed to stand up, and walk further and back to build up my mind into clear sentences. "There were five of them."

"Alex, I understand how painful it is to tell what you saw, but it's the only way to understand it."

"I surely know, that's what I came here for. The answers." I stood in front of the wall, trying not to start banging my already a bit injured head into it. "Why me? Why does it feel so real, when I couldn't even grasp what was happening around. Why does it hurt so much?" 

It was a rapid fire of questions I had here, but there was no other way to spill out everything I held inside for weeks. I felt my knuckles suddenly getting numbed by pain, and then I realized, that it was due to me hitting them into the uneven wall in front of me.

Helena, that was the psychic's name, pulled me back by my shoulders, directing me back to my seat. Only now I felt those hot streams, rolling down my face that I needed to wipe away.

"Calm down, boy. I need the story, remember." She reminded me, a bit shaking me off from the thoughts that flooded me again.

"Where do I start?" I asked like an idiot.

"From the beginning." She insisted.

"It was the end of August, when I was beaten up to the level, my state was critical. I had an infernal bleeding, which of course was asking for an immediate surgery. I don't know what exactly happened during the surgery, but I heard how everything just went crazy all around. People were shouting that I was dying, and I was indeed dead for about ten minutes. They even wanted to switch off all of the life supporting devices.." My little laugh sounded like someone held a knife just besides my jugular.

" I heard how my life was crumbling apart and all I wanted was to wake up. They say, be careful what you wish for, it might come true. " This time, I couldn't even break a giggle. "I woke up. It looked like I was looking from someone else's point of view. I didn't actually wake up, I was just thrown in into someone's head, someone's who was ridiculously similar to me, it felt, like he was me."

"And there was Johanna, her heavy silk dress and the sounds of the upcoming revolution."