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The International Writers Magazine: Flash Violence

Maria Marlais

And all women have killed themselves. They grew tired of the world, this world, our world. There are no women anymore. Everyone is gone, no one can come back. Some things change ideals so radically. And when they change, it’s hard to believe that there is anything in this world called reason.

Out on the street people are fighting. Someone died right in front of me. I went to a club with my friend. People were staring at us, lining up in front of the door. It was warm inside, people dancing everywhere.. the music were filling our ears with hope and joy. Bought expensive beers and kissed the people in line. Yelling so long to the floor and crashing our bottles against the wall that said that the world was ours. We already know that. But what world?

We know everything already, I can’t stand your voices and complaining. You don’t understand that this is the world. This is what you gave us; now it is our choice how we clean up your mess. Well anyway, we started dancing… moving to the music and watching people die. This is the closest we can get to pure paradise. Is it bad to drink alone? In that case, everyone in my sight is bad people. Outlaws and nobodies, we all will fill this small room. Until someone decided to place a bomb in the basement. That was a sound of pure violence. Dancing people turn into running people; driven by their panic for survival and to just get out of here.

Here where me and my friend are. We try to get out, but there’s no room for us. I stumble on a body that’s been crushed by the panic; the body isn’t moving but I try to move it. But I can’t. I hear the sound of people running; it’s like a fast parade, everyone’s moving in the same direction. But we cannot get out; my friend finds a door and tries to open it. Splitter is falling down from the walls; my friend gets it all over herself. I help her up and hits the door that finally opens for us. We rush in and I shut the door; I shut the sound of people in panic because I just can’t stand it anymore.

We have to walk up, there are stairs but no exit so we continue walking up, we just want to get out one way or another. We get to another door, but we cannot open it. So we sit down and we wait. The sound of people is fading away; I can’t hear anything, everything’s gone now. It’s just us two, watching each other and we smile to one another because we are friends and friends smile and help each other. And I start thinking about things that I haven’t thought about for years. How I just left people and when I tried to come back I couldn’t. I had changed too much and they were just the same as I remembered them, maybe that was the problem. But I tried so hard to be their friend again, but it never happened. I really wanted all of us to be friends and hang out and talk and laugh, but it never happened. And now it feels like it never knew them, like all our memories have faded away. The dreams and feelings that we once had have never existed; at least not for me. I can’t feel it anymore.

But I do remember things. I remember things I did and things I felt and said. I remember that I did really like someone, and I remember that everything turned into a mess. And that’s why I left. And when I open my eyes I see my friend lying on the floor; she’s bleeding from the splitter and I can’t help her. I just watch her; she’s falling asleep now. I wonder that she is thinking, what she is remembering. Maybe she thinks of me and all the things we’ve done together. Or maybe she thinks of her mother who’s sleeping at home, not knowing what’s going on here. But I think she’s thinking about her favourite book. It will help her, I will tell her that I promise you, I will tell her that. I close my eyes again and I see my parent’s house where I grew up. How I ran in the garden as a child and how I tried to cut my wrists in bathroom as a teenager. But it didn’t work so I swallowed some pills and drank some wine. I didn’t want to kill myself, I was just curious. And how I felt safe and loved. That’s what I think about now. When I opened my eyes my friend was asleep. But I saw the blood and I knew what had happened. So I just took her hand and waited for someone to open the door. I wonder what she’s thinking about now. I don’t know what I’m thinking about anymore. Maybe I should think about something. Maybe I should think about...

I remember writing. Best things in life, the best things I’ve experienced is sitting in a bright room, filled with light, hearing someone talking about anything, and just write the first things that come into my mind. Yes, I remember that.
Wild form I wanna say everything about anything I wanna touch everything and nothing I want to taste the experience I want to taste the familiar I want to taste you I want to taste me is there a delivery of some sort and can I feel that the air is filled with something new there is a struggle between the madness and the dead and there will be a fight between generations who can say everything about nothing and who sit comfortable staring right at the sun
Will end everything so maybe there is no need for us to think to laugh to hate to love phrasing painting putting our emotions where everyone can feel them touch them take them and destroy them.

The presence of a world the world our world we must discover it’s neither one thing nor another pure intuition. It became my way of life. Never loose the energy but who’s carrying my energy if I leave and does my mind have energy of its own I cannot tell anymore I cannot see how the fragments are held together by someone anyone living in the complete actual presence.

I want you to go down on your knees so it is finished thickening the meaning so the body can hurt from the inside slowly fading away and maybe someone will find you by the lake when the others went to dinner and you say that you’ve never felt better in your life .

Hahahahahha you’ve never felt better in your life.
Is it fascinating that you now have learnt to appreciate the nothingness in life and you still long for the exotic other world inconsistency vessels of eternity life is cursed undeniably familiar maximum pleasure how can you question your way of living when you never do anything to change it weakness and boredom fear of boredom no responsibility permanent possessions the way things are as we stand along the line I want you to go down on your knees I want you to go down on your knees.

Good thing about some countries is that it is so easy to get what you want. If you have money and you’re a good liar you can get anything. That is violence. But it’s tastes so good and it’s so hard to not touch it. I need to touch it, I need to use it. Went to a doctor and said I thought I was going mad so she prescribed Xanax and another antidepressant. I went home and put the three boxes neatly on my desk, sat in front at looked at them. I could kill myself tonight I thought. I can’t keep them here in my room because if I come home on night, drunk and depressed, I know that I will take them and I will regret it the morning after but then it will be too late. So I could sell them as drugs; I could probably get some money from that. Yeah, I would. But I wouldn’t do that would I? No, I’m a moral and good person; I would never want to hurt anyone. I can’t keep them here. So I threw them in the garbage and locked myself in my room until I heard the garbage truck come. It’s too easy. It’s not fun anymore. Everyone wants to be mad or eat antidepressants. It’s a bizarre world. And you people just continue without reflection and you say that you rule the world. It’s disgusting. I’m ashamed of being part of this world, this society. No wonder people are killing themselves. I wish that you could look at yourself but - but you will never get it.

© Maria Marlais December 2008

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