warden pt.2

A child’s face on a adult’s world

The last day as warden ,in the world as I knew it, was one that I can only explain as conclusive…it all had begun just 8 years prior to my parting ways with that thin soul of a prison…a group of shackled men arrived that morning…not too feral of a group…just another gang of lost men…as I’ve done so many times, I lined these rattled confused men in front of me, and gave them a burly lecture…as I gazed into their eyes, one by one…from left to right, I froze in mid sentence…looking into the face of what seemed to be a child to me…but he was decades away from such youth…I only saw the face I knew when I was too a child along side him…his name was Elliott Nelson…he was my best friend when I was 6…and he stayed my best friend throughout high school…and when the big war, the only good war came he left his family and friends at home…he fought every day of his life from that war until his end…and I was there for the first and last of his true manhood…I finished my speech and sharply cranked my head oppose his persons…I wanted to know why he was here before I looked at him…but I knew that he was the only one who could tell me…the paper work and the files, the courts the trials the judges the juries…they didn’t have to answer to men…only men had to answer to men…

Fucking the time away

I waited 2 weeks before opening the time capsule that was Elliott Nelson…I was doing no better off than a sailor on a snow hill with my own morals…I was indeed fucking my secretary…that morning I had fucked her in the shower…my daily schedule was becoming less strenuous with work details and more riddled with sporadic fucking…at 66 years of age, fucking was something of a new sensation all together…I understood why most of these men end up in a place like this…women are closer to the concept of the devil than the devil himself…somehow, between all the fucking and wardening, I found strength and vitality to walk down to Elliott’s cell…it was about 6:45 pm in late October…so the sun felt a lazy as most of these men’s will to be anymore…it seemed like it rose and fell as swift as a swallow during autumn…I approached his holding room…”Elliott Nelson, I’m Randal Bertrum…do you remember me?…I’m not just the warden, but I was your best friend during the best time in any man’s life”…he replied with hesitant “yeah…YEAH! I’m sorry Randy, I was so lost coming here…I’m still so lost…you look good!…what are the odds?!”…I smiled inside, but began to tear up standing there…”the odds aren’t great…what happened after school? I mean, In the war that is..”…Elliott answered…”well, I killed many men…I killed many women…I killed myself…my youth…I’ve been dead a while now…as far as the specifics of the war, I’ve long erased everything…minus the faces of the dead in witch I had a part in making, after I was in a tank that blew up and lost vision for 5 months, was in and out of a coma…I was shipped back to the states…everyone loved me…and I hated everyone…I hated myself, and all those stupid faces of the dead…I wish sometimes I could be one of those faces”…Elliott wasn’t my childhood counterpart…the world had fucked his life away…and I could feel his discontent because I too was fucking my life away…

Time warps and their unforgiving rules

After that first day, that first talk, me and Elliott regressed into children again…but not all at once…it started in a leisurely pace…after fucking and fucking, I would make my rounds down the corridors, greeting all the old souls one by one…and I would arrive upon Elliot’s cell, and we would chat about what dreams we had, or how it felt to fuck such a young pretty thing every morning…we would talk about the other prisoners, and rib them and make note of their unpleasant characteristics…like locker room talk, it was the fountain of youth every morning…wake up, fuck a young pretty women, and goof on our fellow acquaintances…this grew and grew…with every day came serious questions, just after the light foolishness of our new found childhood…we would swell every day…swell and swell for knowledge…knowledge for one another and their past…to fill the gap of time war and work and love takes from us all…one day he asked me what my life was like before I came to Georgia, and what my wife had been like…”oh, it wasn’t fireworks every day…I worked as a guard for about 24 25 years or so…I never did like these places, so don’t think I’m some kind of control freak…the pay was good and my wife, Mari, was never happy with it…eventually so died from cancer…and I had no reason to stay in our home…it wasn’t our home anymore, just a building with pictures of people who didn’t exist hanging on the walls…I took this job…I like being around hopeless souls…I’m a hopeless soul”…Elliott had told me much about his life as well…”after the war, I married a German girl…her name was Hilda Ahner….she was a huge women with crazy blue eyes and dark flowing hair…she was what you would call jolly…not in weight, but in spirit…she drank happily…and I was her polar opposite…I hated life and living…after trying for many years, she finally left me for my best friend…soon after, they went back to Germany”…

To confess is to be blessed

It was inevitable that I inquire what vile horrid godless crime our fellow patriots convicted Elliot for committing…and on the day I asked him, he seemed knowledgeable to my finally having gathered up the vigor to do so…”why are you in this place Elliot? You know why I’m here, and it wasn’t just by chance that you’re here with me…or is it?”…Elliot confides “about a year ago, I was living in a little shit hole, almost as small as this very shit hole…and I worked at some gloomy factory making refrigerator pumps…I was so very alone in that huge building…it seemed to stretch for miles…and all but 50 employees, counting myself, inhabited this enormous hanger for machines and assembly lines…I would work 12 hours without ever seeing more than a shift supervisor…I began to imagine the war…I vividly saw the soldiers killing, and raping…I smelled the blood of children and burning flesh…I felt the plains shuttling over the crimson skies before they firebombed the color from the earth…and I couldn’t separate it…I was 17…and in the factory at 38 I couldn’t separate my realities…both I’ve lived through, bombs and dead faces…bullets ripping through warm flesh…and big machines and assembly lines…pounding and vibrating…burning metal and copper…making product after product…it was not at all different than war…and I began to drink and drink…one night after work, I sat at a bar and drank my brain into a nightmare…I left the bar and began walking down the street towards my shit hole…a car flying down, broke through a red light with ease…it collided with an adjacent car heading through the same intersection…the cars twisted together…glass exploded, tires melted and puked black smoke all over the streets…the cars belched anti freeze and oil and water like a pig running across a shooting range…and the entire atmosphere was war…I ran to the mangled cars and tore a women from it…her daughter was unconscious in the seat next to her…I put my hands around her neck and ripped her throat out…she was still alive…I thought she was a soldier…I walked around to the car who had sped through the light…I saw a young man still inside bleeding from everywhere…I helped him from his car and screamed “medic! Man down!” I looked into his frozen eyes, and asked him where those ss fuckers came from…he threw up on me…I dropped him and walked back from the fiery pile of steel and rubber and flesh…the smoke rising to the sky like a phoenix…I wondered when air support were coming…I was gone…”…Elliott looked bewildered and lost as he told the story…it was as if he was reporting a mission statement to his superior…

PART 3

To escape within

After hearing that story I began to think that life wasn’t all that meaningful…I felt rather inadequate…I would go on to discover just the opposite…I was part of something substantially epic…I did not completely know this yet…I kept picturing a women lying in a warm collection of maroon blood…her throat a chasm…a emptied elevator shaft to transport nutrition and air and water…I kept seeing Elliot shivering like a sick dog beside her…looking around at his painting of reality as if a crocodile were staring into the eyes of a butterfly…completely oblivious…this world did not create him…nor you, nor I…we just became…and while sorting it all out, we may rip a couple windpipes now and again…I was not depressed of this vision…it was more of a spiritual awakening…I stopped fucking my young secretary…I stopped goofing on the inmates with Elliot…I stopped walking down the corridors greeting all the true men every morning…I sat in my office, reading the bible…picking at it like a vulture hovering above a battlefield…“who wrote this?…why do they think we are so dull?…why must we constantly quest for approval within each other to acknowledge that we, as man, have so much more importance in a world we’ve designed as our own?…how the fuck can we think it’s tolerable to go on assuming we actually have any position in this world, this world of theirs?…have we gone so mad as to even think that if the earth stops flourishing and producing affluently that we are it’s sole reason to it’s demise?”…for days I would ask these questions….and these questions replaced my questioning myself…and I became more inaccessible and isolated…my thoughts scattered about like a spilt puzzle box…and months would pass, I would be in and out of reality…my job would be fulfilled, and drinking would be my reward….I would make human contact by interacting, but I wasn’t occupied whatsoever…and one morning, pinned to my sleeve of my suit was my memo…”Elliott S. Nelson has escaped. There’s absolutely no signs as to how, and the grave shift unit manager is investigating how it was possible that he burnt a hole through concrete of the floor in his cell.”….

It would please me to fertilize just as soon as possible

As I read such nonsense I would think that someone had ripped a page straight from the bible and pinned it to my wardrobe…but I threw on my suit as promptly as possible, and flung my office door open to question my secretary…”is this some sort of joke?”…I asked Elisabeth, my young interest…”no sir, go see for yourself…I took a look on my way in…it just doesn’t add up”…I looked at her one last time, and my dick fluttered a bit…she was striking…and the male organ does not follow any sort of schedule, it is impervious to tardiness or readiness…it just does what it does…I left the office and headed for the stairs…I turned the corner and a line of guards were headed up for the morning brief…I told them I was privy to the news and to wait for me in my office…I wanted to look in private…the guards agreed and just as the last one past, I grabbed his arm and quietly asked him for his flashlight…he unbuckled it from his belt and handed it over…I thanked him and we went on with it…I reached the bottom of the staircase in the building…I turned the corner and proceeded briskly along the rows of barred-off living quarters…I reached Elliott’s cell…I fumbled through the giant key ring that hang beside me…flipping through it like a rolodex until I found my number…623…I opened the cell….it was mid January…the 11th of the month…it was 6 am…and black as the ocean floor outside…I clicked on my flashlight…it was so quiet that morning, I could hear the hound dogs outside barking barking…calling out “where are you?!” and again and again…the manhunt was going on outside…but after I looked around, I knew they would find not a drop of human existence…the walls were powder blue, and blotless…pictures of airplanes and pretty girls all lined up about eye-height…almost perfectly spaced and centered…the cot was made…the sink was dry and without slime and grit…the mirror was seamless…and in the middle of the floor laid a hole about 3 feet in diameter…it’s circumference charred along the way, as the mouth of a volcano…nothing beyond the floor but dirt.…the prison was build on top of hard soil that was cased in a concrete barrier surrounding the length and width of the entire structure…no one has ever tunneled out…matter of fact, no one has ever left this place alive as they knew it…so I looked around, under the bed I found a notebook…I immediately hid it within my suit coat…I knew that the answer was inside that notebook, I just wanted to read it alone, somewhere far from that thin-souled prison…I retreated to my office, where expecting guards and officers and local law enforcers and man hunting teams all awaited my input and order…I said this…”I’m not feeling too well this morning…I believe the years are pulling the rug from under me…as for this escape, I’m almost positive it was a tunnel job…the dirt that we see now was probably once propped into a great makeshift railroad to freedom….if only it didn’t collapse by the time Elliott reached the wall of concrete just 15 feet south of his cell, he would have had time to reconsider and crawl back to his much more lingering death…I’ve checked his cell, as I’m sure you all have too…I found nothing alluding to his escape route….if you feel you must tare up his cell and dig for his body as we knew it, then go right ahead…I for one think he’d much rather remain fertilizer here and now…and get it over with…now if you excuse me, I’m going to take the day off to see a special doctor…I’m just not feeling right…the senior unit manager can answer any questions from here on out”…and I walked out of my office and never returned…

Wearing the ring that matters

I called a cab fro the payphone just outside the prison walls…I waited for about 15 minutes and climbed into the cab on my way to escaping my fate…the notebook had begun to moisten from it being pressed between my right arm and rib cage…I finally revealed it to myself, laying it upon my lap…I decided to fly to Mexico, Guaymas Mexico…I rented a small beach home in on the coast of the gulf of California…I did not settle in, or rest…I went to the back porch that overlooked the ocean…I poured a glass of cold vodka…I opened the notebook…and read…”Elliott Nelson, January 10th 3:30am…I know you will find this Randal….I know because you and I are aliens…not the such that movies in Hollywood are made, but social and humanistic aliens…we long for a better life in happiness…there is a step you can take to achieve such a thing…to be born in such a world…I learned this in a dream…or a reality…I’m not sure or ever will be sure of witch it was…I approached a white cold dead body in a ruined village…I turned it over as it was stiff and frozen forever, like a stuffed bear…I will never know why I turned it over…but as I looked into it’s empty eyes, it began to cry and gargle and spit mouthfuls of phlegm and I screamed and kicked it over and over…and I looked down into it’s brittle face…it was horror…caved in and wretched…it’s jaw began to move and grunts and noise fell from it’s agape mouth like a whale…I went to smash it again when I was paralyzed…my legs would not move, my back would not move…and my head and eyes were fixed into the gaze of the spoiled face…and it spoke as clearly as ever…”imagine a world…a world all around you…a world where you don’t matter…a world that exists for itself…and you cannot change this world…you cannot reveal this world…and you will never be happy in this world…because you will never be of this world…imagine all of your waste and your slop and your refuse…imagine it in a pile…imagine you and everyone you know and everyone they knew all helped put all your sludge in a pile…now imagine watching that pile fester and grow and spoil and rot…imagine it becoming life from your endlessness…imagine it growing into beings with faces and identities to one another…imagine it creates more of itself and learns to talk to each other and festers together and spoils together…and imagine it growing so big it takes over your world…and imagine you trying to stop it, but it thinks it’s only here to maintain it’s sustain…imagine it taking you over and you becoming nothing…and imagine you finding the only way to stop it…the only way to stop it….”…and after reading that passage, I burst into a ball of fire…erasing anything I ever was…I left behind a ring of charred nothing…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: