Drawn Beyond the Lines of Reason

16th May 2013

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In Domus De Aurum Et Ossium (Full story)

There was darkness all around me. All I could see and feel was black and empty. My mouth was open and I was screaming but no sound came out. My veins were bulging and my eyes were on fire. I was a giant ball of pain and anguish, but I had no idea where I was or what was going on. It felt like I was there for a very long time, but I was only cognizant of being there just now. Something told me I’d left the reservation, so to speak- gone sovereign, a rogue gene in a perfect world. All I knew was that something was coming. Something drastic was on the horizon… and it was coming for me. Then a light was coming in my direction, like a train at night sliding along the rails. It was almost on top of me and I tried too late to get out of the way. Finally there was simple stillness…

I woke up slowly.

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15th May 2013

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In Domus

De Aurum

Et Ossium

II

At my age, you’d think I’d have my shit together- But no way, man- too much life to take advantage of right NOW. As long as I still had life in these limbs and lungs, I was going to burn every day and night down as fast as possible, even if I couldn’t keep up with most of the younger generation now. I was an adult! That meant I could do whatever I want- Like throw a holy-shit-mother-of-a-blowout party for all my friends. Actually, it was a party for whoever wanted to show up, pay a fee, and partake of the chemicals therein.

The soiree was awesome. There was booze and drugs and women- so many women! I roamed around like a conquering hero, knowing full well how much effort it had taken to put this all together at the last minute. One-hundred crazy wasters were in my rented house on the East Side, and they just seemed to keep coming! Tonight was going to be an epic upheaval of everything we had endured as ‘adults’- rules, decency, work, school, life, and all the other bullshit we were slaves to in life. For this night, all that was left at the door was a pair of muddy shoes.

The house was not too far from a lake on the outskirts of town and we were all planning to converge on it, as soon as sun went down. My neighbors on the other side didn’t mind- It was the weekend and we all had the next day off. Even their kids were up since there was no school, so it wasn’t like we were waking the dead with our chaotic Pagan celebrations. As soon as the sky was dark, we would descend on the water like demented hippies on acid. It was just a matter of time. I was on the back porch, listening to a story with a bunch of friends and laughing uproariously right along with them, when I heard a scream. It was high-pitched and panicked, like a child being attacked by the Bogeyman. It wasn’t coming from the house, it was out on the water. What the Hell? Someone was already in the water? I scanned as far as I could and saw thrashing- Was someone swimming?

Wait… Was someone drowning?

I turned to my friends, who’d noticed it as well, and said “We need to go check it out!”

“Dude, man, I’m too out of it…”

“Let’s just call the cops, man…”

“Don’t call the fucking cops, man! I’m underage…”

I’d stopped listening by then, I was running for the shore, pulling clothes off as I did, hitting the water with a hard splash and paddling furiously toward the person out in the lake. It had to be Rachel, the daughter of the neighbors across the way. Jesus Christ, what was she doing out here? As I swam, I realized I was a lot more fucked up than I’d thought before. I was slow and tired and struggling just to make any headway. With every turn of my head for breath, I got a better look at the person. OH MY GOD, it WAS Rachel, and she looked like she wasn’t going to hold on much longer.

“Rachel! Hold on, honey- I’m coming!” I blurted out. But my words were cut off by the water. I was getting slower too. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going.

Then I reached her as she went down again, and with one arm I snatched her from the depths. I pulled her onto my back and started heading for the shore on the other side of the lake. I still had a way to go when I suddenly knew I wouldn’t make it. I started screaming “HELP!” as loud as I could while still trying to get Rachel to land. For a split second, I thought I saw people there, wading into the water towards us, but it was too late. I’d run out of time. I’d run out of energy. I couldn’t hold on, I wasn’t going to make it. I was too tired.

As the darkness started closing in, I thought I saw someone paddling towards me and I knew there was only one thing I could do. I pulled Rachel’s still body from my back and desperately pushed her towards the person swimming furiously our way. As I went down, I saw the person grab her. She was going to make it.

She was going to make it…

She was…

I came to in the darkness.

            The floor was cold against my cheek. There’s something very disconcerting about waking up and not seeing anything right away. So I felt around with my hands. As I moved, my back became a spasm of pure unfiltered pain. But was nothing compared to what happened when I sat up. A wave of nausea consumed me and I threw up violently into the darkness, hearing the spat but not seeing it. That alone was strange enough, and I pictured a concept where this was what it must be like to be hung over and blind. But the violence of the attack and the surge was coming back to me now. The Paris Green must have done more than knock me out, but I was pretty sure I could do without another round. Then that last memory hit me- Rachel. The party. Swimming in the black lake. Was that what this place was? Death? No- This wasn’t Heaven or Hell.

More like jury duty.

            I was deciding how much I should allow myself to wallow in the misery of the situation when I noticed there was light coming from a crack somewhere. When I saw it, I knew it had to be a door. I slowly climbed to my feet and moved in the direction of the light. It was so slight I might not have noticed. I reached where I thought the door would be and fumbled for the handle. It was unlocked! Why the Hell would they leave it unlocked? They must have thought I was too hurt to go anywhere. I turned the handle as quietly as I could and pushed with my shoulder. It didn’t open. It took me a minute to deduce that the door opened in and not out, but it to me all of a second to realize I was an idiot. Once I summoned all my faculties to be as silent as a church, I pulled the door towards me.

It was a basement. I was in someone’s basement. Why the fuck was I in someone’s basement? The Numbers didn’t have a headquarters? They had to stash me at their mom’s house? What kind of strange adversaries put their hostage in the basement? I was thinking about the incredulity of the whole scenario when thought the darkened din I saw the staircase. Just as I took one step in its direction, I heard the boards above my head moan with someone’s weight. Something told me the stairs were a good way to find myself back in the shitty pitch-colored room. But what else could I do? I had a feeling I was in Red City, but I needed to escape to get the answers I was looking for. I was ready to go home. I was finding it hard to think- That nasty crap Peck had given me really did a number on me.

            Just as I was casting a weary look around in desperation, I saw it: a window- A way out, with light pouring in. I made my way through the clutter and pulled on the latch. There was a sound of rust on dust and with a quiet click it was open. But it looked smaller than my body. I was going to have to become Harry Houdini to get through this thing. Finding a step stool in a corner and dragging it to my escape hatch, I put one foot on top of it and scaled to the opening. In an instant, there was a flurry of activity from above. Had I been given away? It was now or never. I pulled the window as far open as I could and heaved myself up into it. I was nearly through! I was going to make it!

Then my hips got stuck.

            I was trying to pull myself out when through the webs on the windowpane I saw the Numbers burst into view from the staircase. At the sight of the open door to my ‘cell’, they turned towards each other in shock. Then they all turned and looked at me, stuck in the hole like Pooh begging for honey. They moved slowly, knowing I wasn’t going anywhere. I thrashed wildly in the frame. I needed help! Just as they reached my legs, a pair of hands grabbed me from behind and hauled me out the window, freeing me and keeping them from getting a hold of me. I was out! I turned to my savior… and came face-to-face with Allen. But it wasn’t EXACTLY Allen. It was… but it wasn’t.

            You see… HE was a SHE. He had made himself into a beautifully psychotic woman, voluptuous and curvy. Her hair was greasy and wild, sticking in a hundred directions, like Wendy O. Williams first thing in the morning, and she was dressed in an outfit like black silk pajamas. For no real reason, she had black lines painted under her eyes like a linebacker. But even as a crazy hot woman, I knew it was Allen. It was in those eyes. And that smile was the same.

“You’re welcome,” she leered.

            Flipped out and still not believing my eyes, I was nonetheless about to dish a vicious retort when I remembered I needed to get the fuck out of there, so I broke into a sprint, trying to put as much distance between myself and my captors as possible. I raced through an alley then down a side street, which opened into a square lined with European buildings. Much-to-my chagrin, Allen was easily keeping pace, but he (she) wasn’t what caught my eye. It was the people around me. They stumbled around like zombies, avoiding each other yet not taking notice of anything. They were just sloughing around in a vaguely drunken stupor, meandering with no real urgency. “Is this what life would be like if we had no destination?” I thought the question instead of asking it out loud knowing how much pleasure my evil twin took in answering my quandaries. It was getting harder to resist bringing it up, though. In fact, the only ones who seemed animated or lifelike at all were Allen (Ellen?) and I. If this was a dream, it was becoming a nightmare fairly quickly. My female doppelganger just smiled excitedly. “Eerie, huh? It’s like dancing with ghosts.”
“WHY ARE YOU A WOMAN?”
She winked. “I felt like roaring. You should ask me why I still look so much like YOU, sissy.”
Fuck it: Subject changer. “What’s going on? Why are these people like that?”
“They have nothing better to do.”

“Oh….”

She seemed genuinely glad I said that because she turned and added, “Yet!”

            I left it at that and kept running. The streets didn’t seem real either. They twisted and turned in strange directions. Dead ends ran right into backyards and houses shot up in the middle of the city. There were signs that said nothing and yet said everything. Slogans that seemed so familiar were alien and indecipherable in their opaqueness. Something was telling me this place was where you dreams go to die. I’d never seen a place so blank yet so full of concepts in all my life. I forgot all about the chase and stopped, looking around me. This city was hiding something in plain sight. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t place it yet.

“There you go again, Sherlock,” Allen said, curling the words over full lips, “Keep putting it together. Before you get too involved in it, you want to make out?”
“I turned towards her (him), ready to retch. “WHAT?” Even with legs like that, I knew it was the same fucker I didn’t really care for. “Are you insane?”
She walked ahead of me and over her shoulder demurred, “You. Tell. Me.”

            We wound up on a street next to a park on the broad side of the city. The sky above me was angry, like a volcano in springtime. It cast a red hue over everything. Red City made sense; the whlle place had the color. I turned to say something to Allen, but she- he; fuck it, whatever- was gone. However, I wasn’t alone.

            The Numbers had caught up with me. They surrounded me in a semi-circle in the park, stretched out in all directions to block my exits. This park would now be the site of my showdown. Black John was the only one to move towards me, as always. It seemed like this was it. I was out of options. There was nothing I could do.

            But I’d had enough- I was done running. I was done being scared. I was done with all the chasing and never fighting back. My hands formed fists and I stood up a little taller. I wasn’t going anywhere I didn’t want to go. I wasn’t going to do anything I didn’t want to do. I was taking my control back, right here and right now. Then suddenly I wasn’t alone in the circle. Someone was behind me, back-to-back and shoulder-to-shoulder. At first, I had no idea who the fuck it was, but I was glad someone was there and it bolstered my will to spit Hell back at these pricks. “That’s right! I’m not alone now! WHAT!?” At the outburst, the man behind me laughed and I recognized it immediately. Peckinpah had found me.

            He’d found time to dress, too: he was impeccably dressed in a black suit and tie, hair slicked back and curling around his neck. “It’s about time, kid. I was beginning to think you’d never get here,” he said with a wink, and with that we charged into the Numbers with a vengeance. They tried to swarm us, but we broke through the circle at the weakest point and put them in front of us. Bodies flew and our knuckles crushed skins as we made our way towards safety. Then the space around us was clear and we both raced away, spinning here and there to see if we were being followed. We broke towards the other side of the park and kept going. Blocks turned into a mile before we  finally stopped to catch our breaths. I put my hands on my knees to keep from throwing up, but Peck only turned his torso to stretch a bit and let out a sigh, saying “Been a while since I did something like that!” Adjusting his tie and fixing his hair, he seemed invigorated. I was probably ten years his junior but I felt like shit.

            As I stood up, I saw we were in a cemetery, old and falling apart. The sky here was still almost flush with red, but it had a gray slight to it, making it appear like an old Hammer horror movie. I glanced at my older companion, but he was simply watching, letting me take it all in. I peered into the open entrance and beheld what lay beyond it. The stones all seemed to be cut from the same piece of granite. The only thing in the place was a raven, perched on one marker at the back of the place. The sign on the rusty gate said ‘GRAVESEND’. Peckinpah motioned me to follow him, and we slowly traced a path through the strange bone yard. I had the weirdest feeling… “Why do I know this place?”
He smiled at me. “We’re getting close to the end now.”
“What?”
“What seems familiar about it?”
I stopped and looked around. I didn’t recognize anything, but I was certain I’d been here before, or I’d seen a picture or something. “I just feel like I’ve been here. Have I had this dream before?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time a person has had déjà vu about something that never happened. But in your case, it’s a little more delicate.”
“How so?”
“See that headstone?”

            It was the one with the raven on top. I immediately walked closer so I could read the inscription. All it said was ‘September, 1982.’ The date made my skin crawl into knots. 1982 was, to me, the last year of my innocence. It was the final moment I felt like a child, the last time I remembered having hope. So much had happened after that- the gypsy lifestyle, the abuse, the emptiness and the loneliness- but that date had always stuck in my head. It was the beginning for me. A notion formed in my head. Peck waited patiently.
“This world…”
“Yes, keep going.”
“This world is me.”
“Precisely.”
“Everything here… is me?”
“Bits of you, yes.”
But something didn’t make sense. There were things and people here I hated, things that were trying to kill me. “I don’t understand…”

He knew I was thinking. “There are things inside all of us that we despise, son. We all have traits that are, shall we say, undesirable. We all have sides to our personalities that try desperately to obliterate our other aspects. Some of us have a better hold on them than others. This is merely a war for the soul. The point is, we all fight these wars ourselves. But the more we stand by our choices in life, the stronger we as individuals become. You have to understand that people are not really just people- For the most part, they are just assorted collections of choices they have made in their lives.”
“So I am a result of the choices I’ve made?”
“Exactly.”
“That’s not true. I am the way I am because this is the way I want to be.”
“Are you?” I could have sworn we made a pact long ago to be better, to be the best in fact. We were supposed to rise above the pain, overcome the torment, and escape.”
“We?”
He stopped, holding back a snide remark. I watched the patience roll over him in a tiny wave. When he looked at me again, he said “This whole place is you, remember?”
Then it hit me. He was me. Allen was me. The Numbers, Black John, the people…
“I’m simply the owner of this place…”

Holy shit.

Peckinpah came and stood next to me in front of the headstone. “This world was very different years ago, and it will be different years from now. Depending on the choice you make at The Conflagration, you may never come back here again, or you may be doomed to keep coming here forever. But the choice, ultimately, is yours.”
“Well, that’s simple. I’ll just make the right choice.”
“Is it that simple? You don’t even know what the right choice is.”
“What?”
“The right choice could mean several different things. What is right for you may not easily be what’s right for everyone else, including yourself.”
God, I was tired of the fucking riddles. “What in the blue fuck does that mean, Peck? Doesn’t every choice have to be what’s best for me?”
“Yes… and no.”
“How about you go fuck yourself!?”
This time, my older self laughed out loud. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years! Ha ha ha!”

            My frustration was getting the best of me. Suddenly, I wanted to hurt Peck as much as I possibly could. I wanted to drive my fists into his face and draw blood (my blood). I wanted to rake my fingers across his smug face (my smug face) and shove that self-serving smile up his ass (my ass). In a split second, it occurred to me this was the strangest form of sadism in the history of all things insane. But a voice was whispering to me now. ‘Yes,’ it said, ‘we don’t need him. We never have. Put him out of our bloody misery….’ I recognized Allen’s voice, and I shuddered. I looked up and saw Peckinpah watching me. He smiled sadly. “You see?” he said. “It’s not that simple. It never has been, and it never will be.”

            I turned and left the cemetery as fast as I could. I kept walking through the metropolis of my design, raging on the inside. What the Hell did he know? I’d been a good person, dammit! I’d jumped in the water to save Rachel without any hesitation! For all I knew, I was at the bottom of the fucking lake right now. I did my best to protect my family and friends. I did what was right (for me). I was a good person (when it suited me). Sure, I’d made mistakes, but who hadn’t? Maybe I wasn’t a great friend sometimes, and maybe I’d been fairly unavailable to my family over the years. But somewhere, deep down, I was good inside… wasn’t I?

            Then suddenly the sky opened up with salt water, raining down on my head like recriminations in a criminal court case, soaking me to the bone in one shot. I ran from the torrents that the storm was unleashing on me, looking for a place to hide. But there’s never anywhere to hide when the one who is looking for you is yourself. There are no secrets in Red City.

            I walked and walked until I found myself standing in front of a small, secluded church in the middle of nowhere. Even as diminutive as it was, there was something about it that was imposing to me. I’ve never been religious in my life and the times I had been dragged to Sunday service had not gone well, leaving a terrible taste in my mouth for anything that resembled holy ground. But I had nowhere else to go until I got my head on straight, so I burst in as the rain tapered off, wringing my hands and trying in vain to dry them on my saturated overalls. The only light available was from the candles that lined the walls around the chapel, giving me the feeling I had disturbed someone’s slumber. I slunk into a pew in the middle of the church and laid my head on the back of the seat in front of me. All was still; churches seem to have the monopoly on the deepest quiet. It was the first real peace I’d felt in ages and I started to drift off…
September- 1982
I was ten years old.

            What’s worse, I was leaving my home. I didn’t want to go. All of my friends had either said goodbye or were too sad to say anything to me at all. Everything I knew was going to be gone in an instant. I clutched my suitcase in the empty apartment my mother and I had shared on the South side, staring at nothing, willing things to be there, to be the same. Dejected, I concluded that nothing was going to change- Nothing, that is, except everything. I had never felt so alone in my life. Mother was packing things into the car, which left me in the apartment… with him.

            He was loud and abusive. He drank too much. He smacked me around and beat me with belts when Mom wasn’t around.

His name was Allen.

            He didn’t like me. I was only ten-years-old but he hated me like an adult. He put on a good-face when my mother was close by, but when she went to work and left us alone, he put me through Hell.  And when he didn’t, his friends did. I’d tried to run away, but he’d found me and dragged me back to the apartment. Not because he cared- he didn’t want to lose the room and board because ‘some punk-ass kid got away from me’. I tried to tell someone but no one believed me. I felt doom in my bones and I knew that nothing was going to feel good for a very long time. I was a prisoner in my own life, and that was a hell of a way for a child to feel at any age. A hard hand gripped my neck and spun me round. Allen was there with a duffel bag at his feet, and a beer in the hand that didn’t have a hold of me. “Time to go, fuckhead. Your mother’s waiting,” He looked around, “Personally, I’d sooner leave you with your grandmother than drag you along, but…” I didn’t realize I was glaring at him until he leaned into my face and grinned. “Aw, look at the little badass! Did someone get his itty-bitty feelings hurt? Go ahead, you little dick- hit me. I’ll put you through a wall so fast, you’ll be dead before you come out the other side.” His grip on my neck increased, hurting me. I knew I’d have a bruise, but I knew there would be excuses- ‘He was falling down the stairs and I HAD to catch him, didn’t think it was that hard’- so, once again, I could do nothing. He stood back up, took a swig of his beer and said, “That’s what I thought, you little pussy. From now on, you’re going to show me some FUCKING RESPECT!” With that, he pushed me out the door.

            As we left everything I loved behind, I made a promise to myself. As soon as I was old enough, I would get as far away from here as I could. And I would never touch drugs or beer or anything. I would be free from pain. No one could hurt me. No one could touch me. I would be stronger, I would be better than all of this. ‘And all of you,’ I thought to myself…

“Ringing any bells, my son?”

            I snapped out of the nightmarish memory quickly, swatting at something that wasn’t there. The sound of another person’s voice still hung in the empty quiet like a haunted house. I blinked life back into my eyes and found myself once again looking at Allen, standing on the pew where I’d laid my head. He was dressed like a Catholic priest but his crosses were all upside-down and his hair was bright blue, greased and standing on end. His lips were black. His fingernails were red. His eyes were cold, even though he smiled that malicious grin at me. “Hi there, little roommate. Have another nice nap?”
I sighed. “I’m having trouble believing you are me in any way, shape, or form.”
“Ah! Someone’s been telling tales out of school again! Peck was NEVER good at keeping secrets.” Allen swung his legs over the back of the bench and rested his feet on the one I was sitting on, “You know, if you really thought about it, you’d see where I fit in. But you’ve always been a little pussy, haven’t you?”
“God, you’re just like him.”
“And what does that say about you?” He looked at his nails as if he had just had them buffed. “I’m the you that could rule the world if you just gave in to all the rage, kiddo. I’m the one who loves vices and pain. I’m the one who hurts others so he doesn’t get hurt. I’m you, but I’m a damn sight better than you.”
“You may be a part of me, but I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m nothing like you.”
“Wow… Bra. Va.” Allen clapped his sinister hands sleepily and contemptuously right in front of my face. “For a split second there, you were almost convincing. I’d tell you that was the first time in years you’d come close to being honest with yourself, but considering the circumstances and the way I’m dressed, I’d hate to come off as disingenuous.”
“Go fuck yourself, clown shoes!”
“Oh, your retorts are GOLD!!!” Allen stood on his tiptoes and pirouetted along the pew, hopped to the floor and slid into the seat next to mine. “Here’s a few things: If I go fuck myself, you have to as well. If I go away, a big part of you has to join me. And finally the piece de resistance: You can hate me all you want but at the end of the day, “I”- he flicked the end of my nose with each word- “am…. YOU!”
“I’m nothing like you. And I’ll make sure you go straight to Hell at The Conflagration.”
Allen smiled. “But Sonny Jim… this IS The Conflagration.”

            I paused, looking towards the altar at the head of the church. A wooden plaque above the priest’s seat said in Latin ‘In Domus De Aurum Et Ossium’. I couldn’t read Latin, but I knew what it meant immediately, and as I figured it out, it transformed right before my eyes to the English translation.

The House of Gold and Bones

            I leapt to my feet and ran for the door. I threw it open and stared. People were everywhere: the Numbers, the zombies, all of them stood on the steps and at the door of the church. Black John and Peckinpah were locked together, fighting in their midst. Peck turned, saw me standing alone in the open door and suddenly threw Black John away from him. He raced for the door and the Numbers started to close around him. But then he rose as if in flight, gliding above the multitude and sliding through the door just as the crowd lunged for him. Black John raced for entry, screaming “RU486!!” The Numbers took up the chant, then the zombies, who were starting to show signs of life now that The Conflagration was at hand. The chant went up all around the church outside. When I knew Peck was in and safe, I slammed the door shut and pounded the bolt in place to keep it locked. I turned to see Allen fly into the air and hover there before us like a ghastly apparition. “LET’S ALL BURN ALIVE, THEN!!!” he cried in the silent room, erupting echoes off of the wood and stucco. Peckinpah jumped into the air with him and tried to tangle him up, but Allen danced away in midair, spinning like a demon. “Ha ha! Come on, savior!” he called out behind his back as he evaded the lunge. “Do your fucking worst! I mean, how much worse can you make it?”

            I tried to wrap my head around the whole thing, but I was spiraling into madness. My dark side’s hideous laughter seemed to sway through the stretching dark. Had I really brought myself to this? Was I so seriously bent and fucked up that there was no hope at all? My hands were around my head and I could feel my legs going out from under me when Peck finally came to rest on the floor next to me and pulled me back to my feet. “Listen to me: Don’t be afraid. This is nothing. This is life. Life is a choice- That’s all it is. But the good thing is you always HAVE a choice.”

            “YOU HAVE NO CHOICES LEFT!” Allen said, and he came down as well, dropping into a crouching position in front of us. I didn’t know if it was the terrible lighting or if it was actually happening, but he seemed to be changing. His fingers looked longer and his moth looked bigger. “Everything you have done over the past few years has given me the power I need to win this time. You turned you back on your so-called ‘morality’. Now make your decision and let it be done!”
My better side was having a hard time being heard over the shouting, “You know in your heart what you want. Don’t listen to him.”
“Look at the little monkeys try and write Shakespeare! Fuck you!!! Embrace the chaos and fulfill your fucking destiny!!” A guttural scream burst from Peck, and he sprang at Allen, shifting as he flew. Allen shot towards him in turn, and they exploded into the air, one looking more and more like the other, a mirror fighting its image. A glow was getting brighter behind me, and I turned and saw a fire bathing the church walls in pale blue and violent yellow. The candles had ignited whatever they could burn and the flames were eager and hungry. They quickly spread around the whole place, racing to see how much more they could destroy. However, the two figures in the air seemed oblivious to the blaze’s presence. All they wanted to do was kill each other. They looked like giant sentinels made of stone, trying to find each other’s weaknesses. With every crash of every blow, they seemed to get larger. They were ignoring everything, even me. Then it struck me: I was ignoring myself. I was ignoring what I wanted, giving into whatever was around me in the moment, not looking at the bigger picture.

I wasn’t living the life I wanted to live.

            I stared at World War 3 raging over my head for as long as I could, looking at every angle of my past years to get a better grip on where I’d gone and what I’d become. After a while I stumbled beneath them, heading towards the altar at the front of the church. It was a collision of fire and drapery, heat and faith, but I somehow knew I needed to be there. Only I could end this.
This was my house. It was my gold. These were my bones.
            As this startling idea came to me, my whole body twisted, contorting as if my insides were being torn up. I had a vague notion that this was the damage Allen and Peck’s fight was meant to inflict, but they weren’t affecting each other at all: The fight was affecting me. I had to get to the altar; I had to put a stop to this. Allen saw what I was doing and tried to come for me. Peckinpah grabbed him and, giving me a nod, held him in place so I could make it.

            As I clawed my way to the altar, so many things raced through my mind: The past, the present, drowning, fighting, hating, the two above me, the hundreds outside, my shame, my pride… I suddenly understood the Conflagration. I knew that life could only go on with the confidence of knowing who I am and who we all are. Life could only be lived with the understanding that no matter what, as long as you know what you are inside, even if you make mistakes you can be a better person. But we can only understand after we make the choice to be that better person.

I had chosen.

Just as I made up my mind, the room exploded. Allen, Peck and the church disappeared in a flash of decadent, angry heat, decimating Black John, The Numbers, and the zombies who had been haunting my house for years. My body disintegrated into nothing. I was back in the same blackness I’d started out in before. But this time, there was no pain. There was no need to scream or lash out at the nothingness. This time, my mind was intact. My knowledge was safe. It was over.

            The House of Gold and Bones had been destroyed, but it could be rebuilt. It could be made stronger. It would be better. It would be fortified with genuine heart and greater spirit. If I had my way, it would be the best it could ever be. Life would be different- But it would never get away from me again.

I woke up slowly…

15th May 2013

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      I walked and walked until I found myself standing in front of a small, secluded church in the middle of nowhere. Even as diminutive as it was, there was something about it that was imposing to me. I’ve never been religious in my life and the times I had been dragged to Sunday service had not gone well, leaving a terrible taste in my mouth for anything that resembled holy ground. But I had nowhere else to go until I got my head on straight, so I burst in as the rain tapered off, wringing my hands and trying in vain to dry them on my saturated overalls. The only light available was from the candles that lined the walls around the chapel, giving me the feeling I had disturbed someone’s slumber. I slunk into a pew in the middle of the church and laid my head on the back of the seat in front of me. All was still; churches seem to have the monopoly on the deepest quiet. It was the first real peace I’d felt in ages and I started to drift off…

14th May 2013

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            As I stood up, I saw we were in a cemetery, old and falling apart. The sky here was still almost flush with red, but it had a gray slight to it, making it appear like an old Hammer horror movie. I glanced at my older companion, but he was simply watching, letting me take it all in. I peered into the open entrance and beheld what lay beyond it. The stones all seemed to be cut from the same piece of granite. The only thing in the place was a raven, perched on one marker at the back of the place. The sign on the rusty gate said ‘GRAVESEND’. Peckinpah motioned me to follow him, and we slowly traced a path through the strange bone yard. I had the weirdest feeling… “Why do I know this place?”