The Premier Theatre
Memories
Greg had been carving into the walls things he wanted to say to Kayla, thinking that if someday she dropped by she could read it so he wouldn’t have to talk, after all he was in a different time limit.
He would write “I love you,” over and over on one wall, and then list his mistakes on the other, and he would wait for Kayla to come in his house, he even left the door unlocked so she wouldn’t have to knock.
Greg took no notice of his own craving for food or water, he would sit there looking aimlessly at the door, waiting for Kayla to walk in. Days would go by and he would not move an inch, afraid that he would miss her. Finally he started taking quick breaks to the bathroom and for water. At last he decided he would call her, to make her phone ring just to know he wanted her there, because he knew she wouldn’t be able to hear the speed of his voice, which was traveling at a speed near light. He called and heard her.
“Hello?” she said in a half laugh. Very slowly he hung up, his throat dried up and his blood started to freeze over again, and the horrible daggers of ice started ripping his veins again. What had he done to deserve such pain? He started to sweat crystal beads of cool liquid, and tracing the veins that ran along his arms, ending at the root of his neck on the carotid artery, if his body wasn’t going to listen to him then he would force it. He pressed down his finger blocking the flow of blood to his brain, and the pain started to evaporate while a large pressure started to build up inside of him. His hand dropped to his side and his face met the cold linoleum floor.
A raspy noise of desperation rung across the room, it was the quick breathing Greg’s body made to try to survive the fate the mind itself had put upon him. The mind was just too smart for its own good. It would ponder existence and survival, making things of nature seem as complex as a clock, twisting and turning while everything relied on anything.
All science had brought to them was the truth that was better unheard, how could you live your life to the fullest if you knew your expiration date? How would you enjoy every moment if it was spent carefully measuring the doses of your intake? Life had gotten too careful for the best of them. There was no joy in just plain being alive, because in new discoveries there was always something bad about simple pleasures.
Greg opened his eyes in a flash and started to suck in all the air his lungs could consume. His blood was warm now, beyond boiling point and there was nothing Greg had enjoyed as much as this new warm feeling. He blinked his eyes to discover that there was a thin layer of red everywhere, caused by his boiling blood to rush out of his eye sockets for lack of room in his shrinking frame. He walked over to the sink and turned the rusty faucet open, the water took a minute to finally guzzle and spray down the drain, making Greg dizzy from the counter-clockwise movement of the disappearing water. He washed his face and saw how as clear water came up, red water came down, he washed his eyes with flowing water by putting his head under the tap, and after that his vision went back to a mix of dull colors instead of bright piercing reds.
The truth was that all of the lines connected to the same spot, the same facts buried behind the corpses of those long past his knife. It was clear, he wouldn’t remember doing it all, but the smell of decomposition was crisp in his nostrils. He had killed them, who they were no one knew. They were people who didn’t have a place to call their own. Greg had vowed to end their sorrows in one of his off days, so he found them, under bridges, hiding behind buildings and wandering the streets as he did for them. He would befriend them, and then take them to the same place, his own home. He acted as a savage finding their evening pray, he would kill slowly as to preserve the soul in the body for as long as possible, he would wash, and wash and wash them. He felt that they were so dirty, so foul they almost deserved the long death, but its purpose was to finally have someone care for them.
He would bury them beneath the large Oak tree in Howard Park, so as he drove down Wilmette Avenue he would go by Kayla’s old home and think how proud she would be of him helping people, and for once not considering his own problems, such as the large blood stains on his walls from the needy coughing up the Thallium Sulfate.
He watched the slow process of alive decomposition begin. Their hair would cascade down as he brushed it, he would look into their bottomless eyes and see their hearts aching from the joints, and slowly they would loose power over themselves, shake and not be able to calm the muscles down.
“Shh… It’s all for the better now, lay still,” Greg asked as he braided Ann’s hair while she unsteadily lay on his lap.
“Why are you doing this to me?” She asked back, turning to look in his eyes.
“It’s all for the better. Now relax,” Greg started to hum a soft melody he’d heard as a child, remembering meeting Kayla in Howard Park his first summer in Illinois.
"Hey, can I sit on the tire swing with you?" A smaller Greg said in his memory.
"Sure, what's your name?" Kayla asked, in pigtails and a five year old smirk.
"I'm Gregory, but my friends call me Greg."
"Okay, can I be your friend?" childhood was so easy, they would sit there together for hours and not speak a word, or they would play baseball when no one was using the fields.
"If you want to," Greg answered, his cheeks fluttering to pink
"My name is Kayla, I live four blocks away." she said, using her arm to point to a blind spot through the woods around them.
"Oh, I just moved here from Oregon, my Mommy got a new job," he said, remembering all the fun he had back home. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
Kayla's head jolted at the sound of Mommy, she stopped the swing with her feet and jumped off.
"I have to go eat lunch, but I bet I'll see you in school in sembtember," Kayla said, as always having trouble with her months.
Greg got back to reality hearing Ann have another go at the walls. Pounding her fists against them and screaming.
"I want to go home, please let me go home," She wailed. Her tears would pour out from the corners of her broken eyes.
"Oh but you mustn't, that’s the exact reason I have brought you here, this is your home now," he answered. He thought that in the end she would thank him for his stubbornness, as she waved to him from heaven.
He would write “I love you,” over and over on one wall, and then list his mistakes on the other, and he would wait for Kayla to come in his house, he even left the door unlocked so she wouldn’t have to knock.
Greg took no notice of his own craving for food or water, he would sit there looking aimlessly at the door, waiting for Kayla to walk in. Days would go by and he would not move an inch, afraid that he would miss her. Finally he started taking quick breaks to the bathroom and for water. At last he decided he would call her, to make her phone ring just to know he wanted her there, because he knew she wouldn’t be able to hear the speed of his voice, which was traveling at a speed near light. He called and heard her.
“Hello?” she said in a half laugh. Very slowly he hung up, his throat dried up and his blood started to freeze over again, and the horrible daggers of ice started ripping his veins again. What had he done to deserve such pain? He started to sweat crystal beads of cool liquid, and tracing the veins that ran along his arms, ending at the root of his neck on the carotid artery, if his body wasn’t going to listen to him then he would force it. He pressed down his finger blocking the flow of blood to his brain, and the pain started to evaporate while a large pressure started to build up inside of him. His hand dropped to his side and his face met the cold linoleum floor.
A raspy noise of desperation rung across the room, it was the quick breathing Greg’s body made to try to survive the fate the mind itself had put upon him. The mind was just too smart for its own good. It would ponder existence and survival, making things of nature seem as complex as a clock, twisting and turning while everything relied on anything.
All science had brought to them was the truth that was better unheard, how could you live your life to the fullest if you knew your expiration date? How would you enjoy every moment if it was spent carefully measuring the doses of your intake? Life had gotten too careful for the best of them. There was no joy in just plain being alive, because in new discoveries there was always something bad about simple pleasures.
Greg opened his eyes in a flash and started to suck in all the air his lungs could consume. His blood was warm now, beyond boiling point and there was nothing Greg had enjoyed as much as this new warm feeling. He blinked his eyes to discover that there was a thin layer of red everywhere, caused by his boiling blood to rush out of his eye sockets for lack of room in his shrinking frame. He walked over to the sink and turned the rusty faucet open, the water took a minute to finally guzzle and spray down the drain, making Greg dizzy from the counter-clockwise movement of the disappearing water. He washed his face and saw how as clear water came up, red water came down, he washed his eyes with flowing water by putting his head under the tap, and after that his vision went back to a mix of dull colors instead of bright piercing reds.
The truth was that all of the lines connected to the same spot, the same facts buried behind the corpses of those long past his knife. It was clear, he wouldn’t remember doing it all, but the smell of decomposition was crisp in his nostrils. He had killed them, who they were no one knew. They were people who didn’t have a place to call their own. Greg had vowed to end their sorrows in one of his off days, so he found them, under bridges, hiding behind buildings and wandering the streets as he did for them. He would befriend them, and then take them to the same place, his own home. He acted as a savage finding their evening pray, he would kill slowly as to preserve the soul in the body for as long as possible, he would wash, and wash and wash them. He felt that they were so dirty, so foul they almost deserved the long death, but its purpose was to finally have someone care for them.
He would bury them beneath the large Oak tree in Howard Park, so as he drove down Wilmette Avenue he would go by Kayla’s old home and think how proud she would be of him helping people, and for once not considering his own problems, such as the large blood stains on his walls from the needy coughing up the Thallium Sulfate.
He watched the slow process of alive decomposition begin. Their hair would cascade down as he brushed it, he would look into their bottomless eyes and see their hearts aching from the joints, and slowly they would loose power over themselves, shake and not be able to calm the muscles down.
“Shh… It’s all for the better now, lay still,” Greg asked as he braided Ann’s hair while she unsteadily lay on his lap.
“Why are you doing this to me?” She asked back, turning to look in his eyes.
“It’s all for the better. Now relax,” Greg started to hum a soft melody he’d heard as a child, remembering meeting Kayla in Howard Park his first summer in Illinois.
"Hey, can I sit on the tire swing with you?" A smaller Greg said in his memory.
"Sure, what's your name?" Kayla asked, in pigtails and a five year old smirk.
"I'm Gregory, but my friends call me Greg."
"Okay, can I be your friend?" childhood was so easy, they would sit there together for hours and not speak a word, or they would play baseball when no one was using the fields.
"If you want to," Greg answered, his cheeks fluttering to pink
"My name is Kayla, I live four blocks away." she said, using her arm to point to a blind spot through the woods around them.
"Oh, I just moved here from Oregon, my Mommy got a new job," he said, remembering all the fun he had back home. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
Kayla's head jolted at the sound of Mommy, she stopped the swing with her feet and jumped off.
"I have to go eat lunch, but I bet I'll see you in school in sembtember," Kayla said, as always having trouble with her months.
Greg got back to reality hearing Ann have another go at the walls. Pounding her fists against them and screaming.
"I want to go home, please let me go home," She wailed. Her tears would pour out from the corners of her broken eyes.
"Oh but you mustn't, that’s the exact reason I have brought you here, this is your home now," he answered. He thought that in the end she would thank him for his stubbornness, as she waved to him from heaven.