home

search

Chapter 22: Hunting the prey

  --

  I picture myself not as an image anymore, I AM MORE THAN THAT, the bravest thing a coward ever said was you should know when to give up when it suits you. I like to believe there is something to me, that is all I have ever been chasing, even the card games of dragons and books of horror literacy didn't work. I like stories but when I'm the one telling the story my bad side shows up no matter what, all this because deep down I AM SO LONELY that a mere victory isn't worth it anymore but the journey to get there. I know I'm gonna be a dead man when I reach up that mountain, Lauraline showed me that and I will wake up one day knowing she's dead only to find I fell for her. When is smoking the last cigar worth it before you quit for good, the fumes make you taste like the man you play pretend as, the cancer stops you, but for a mere boy playing pretend THAT's nothing. It never was, I wish I wasn't playing pretend but I always am. In another story a better one, that quote I said would be said by a younger me, but I never stooped so low as to be a coward.

  Something twisted inside of me yesterday, was I sick? No, I found lifes new angles. I found out what fun meant and what it meant to dominate in that field of work. What is work, why work, I quit, I quit, I quit, I QUIT. The words kept ringing in my head after all the work I put in, no rest, nothing getting better, I gave up on my dream, the dream of working, not the dream of winning. Because I was simply playing adult all my life, why else did I stab my arm, adults hurt themselves in books and in fights everyday. Why become an adult if nobody in my life lived long enough to teach me how to become an adult, nobody died in the past, they are all prison inmates and I am just a kid. What I mean is ... is everybody playing cops and robbers and am I out of the loop of it. A big theater where people stumble and bleed out ketchup because the SHOW MUST GO ON.

  --

  I had moments of learning, I learned that Ichika liked white flowers, she liked to play house and be the mom she never was. She needed someone and yet I could never call her Lauraline. I saw glimpses of Laura ... when she would cook food I bought home it was nothing like the scent of cinnamon I am used too, instead I smell cumin and red peppers. She always wanted to visit the outside, this part of the world was holding itself onto tradition that ended a long time ago, but was never grown out of. We only live in peace knowing we were in war before and it cost alot of people, I am living in peace knowing I can start war. What if life's meaning is against anything I have ever done, what then, no do over?

  --

  Lefty and Righty they seem like two bafoons or do you say baffoons ... can't spell. They play house too, they do shopping and even hang out with the Lauraline I could never see, as time went on I even heard the news of Malfonz shifting the soldiers in to his abode making an underground shelter right under their exit guarded by a man like him, to force people to work for him. I stopped being my own man.

  --

  Never knew how much a child Malfonz was either, he eats sweets three times a day, has a snack on him at home. Reading stories instead of working, he is just playing pretend, pretend actor, and pretend life, because none in his family have to go to prison like mine did. I remember games like these, like police and robber, hes a lazy robber, my family is in prison, a prison I don’t know of, maybe they are alive, I like that thought, makes me believe nothing bad ever can happen, but also makes me not wanna see where they are in case my judgment… shut up me.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Am i crazy, crazy for living inside his walls, even if I was would I care, no, so why bother. He’s out for the day for some errands after morning, so I always shift something day by day. Maybe put his keys somewhere else, make it so that he suspects someone in his house but never where and how, if I can destroy a man like that, I will gain both a minion and a vaccine. I SEE THE VACCINE HOWEVER, THE ROPES ARE SET, THE DAMAGE IS PLACED, IF I CAN BE A WORSE MAN THAN HE EVER WAS GOOD RIDANCE BECAUSE I don't know anymore, it's been months but feels like years. One thing righty and lefty can offer is companionship ... they're better than an old geezer like me, always were.

  --

  Step two was to steal and put his clothes under his bed. Then let him notice day by day all the damages. I partake in the game of cat and mouse, by dressing up as a granny who sits next to him day by day. If I have time, I dress up as regular people he meets day by day, maybe fooling him, maybe I’m dumb, maybe … I have no life. WHO CAREs, I mean who cares. Damn, this might be my last stunt too, if someone read this book by accident they'll be asking why the structure of my diary so messed up. Turns out pages of your life turns when you drink more and more, the money I could burn for importance became a negative quality of mine, I would wake up with bruises and knuckles on my face.

  It has been three weeks, I creek the wooden boards regularly just to freak him out, not too often, I have the pattern down to a T. I heard you can make your own body sound like a rat, or any animal but the book is unreliable most likely because how am I supposed to make the sounds of a mouse without hurting my pride and ego. I mean being a loser is worse than a mouse said the book I still see no difference, like he is the mouse why should I pretend then, but being hunted is not my cup of tea, speaking of cup of tea, listening to my own flexing in front of the mirror reminds me what am I doing with my life. Because simple revenge sounds too hollow, but before any of those thoughts could ring a bell, I decided to continue with my plan further.

  I think I started seeing progress ... I write more when drunk and none of it makes sense. I noticed he barely sleeps, he barely stays at home, and he speaks to himself so often I might have thought he was having a seizure or something. My plan is a sinker, because it is sinking this mouse asking for a plea of silence, and I say NOOO. I am soo cool. (Sorry reader, whoever you are).

  --

  After not having a morning beer, I stop talking like that, and starting a life like this really makes me wonder how long I will live under this mans shoes but sadly as days pass by I felt that question slipped away. I would do anything to ruin his life, even if he were to have a child, I would ruin his life to the point of him regretting starting a family. One of my biggest regrets would be starting my own in such a depressing state, but I do love little ol Lauraline she grew on me. Right now I feel nothing however, just someone elses tools, if I don't do this my mind will end up killing me with all that regret building up.

  I don’t think my life exists anymore sometimes, because every waking moment is a new day and then I remember I live inside his walls. It makes me feel pathetic, am I pathetic, maybe, I lived like that for decades, nothing new, but never stopped living my life, that was new.

  I don’t know, I guess the moral of the story is, don’t do drugs kids. EEeeeeh, stay in school, an and don’t drink beer before journalism. Before leaving don’t forget to shut up once in a while and don’t be a dumbass. (Awful log book, this is trash).

  I can’t remember the date this was written goodbye now. Fin.

Recommended Popular Novels