_UNTITLED_

I Hope They Say, "I Can't Wait to See More Trailers!"

fading in.

flying lotus plays in my background.

fading in.

we focus on a wooden electrical post. we zoom out. four young man enter the scene. they kick up dust and grunt as one struggles against three. we continue to zoom out. the brutal beating of the singled out young man ensues.

we zoom out some more. all three take turns beating on their victim. it's happening in broad daylight. in a empty block corner somewhere in phoenix. after a round, two attackers step out of our scene. one stays and has the victim up against the post. he keeps on landing blows to his face.

they say,

"let's just do this, already."

"come on."

the victim falls on the concrete. his back resting at the base.

we stop zooming out. all four are in the scene now.

we hear,

"okay, go ahead."

the tired boxer pulls out a gun. his partners step backwards. he aims down at his target with his head hung in defeat. there's a small hesitation. then he fires the gun and shoots him in the head.

the bullet's force tilts the body to the side and then it stays still.

"come on."

the group walk off the scene.

we keep the focus on  post and body now. the focused never shited once.

we show movie title.

then, fade out.

The Stranger

“Now tell me exactly what you saw,” the stranger instructed. He sounded perfectly composed, as though he already knew what I saw only he wanted me to speak of it.

  

I tried breathing in then breathing out. A standing meditation technique. I tried to reconstruct exactly what had occurred and let the sequence replay in my mind. The more I pictured it, the more real it became. I hung my head, closed my eyes and remained silent a bit longer. It was as if my perceptions of what i thought possible were unraveling.

 

“Just think it out loud,” he suggested.

 

“I saw a man fall,” I said. It was almost a whisper. Then I looked straight at the stranger’s dark, piercing eyes. “He jumped off a balcony of the 25th floor.  Landed flat on his feet. Then he walked away.” A short cackle escaped me as I broke contact and shook my head. I couldn’t believe I was telling this to someone.

 

My eyes proceeded to wonder outside the alley I was in. The night had just fallen. The roads shimmered under the streetlights, still wet from the heavy rain that had stopped not long ago. The wind that swirled around me was rather chilly. Still, I had sweat falling down the side of my face.

 

“Did he say anything to you?” the stranger asked, taking a step forward.

 

I took a step back. I got up against the wall and shook my head again. “No, he just looked at me.”

 

“What did you feel?”

 

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me,” I said.

 

“What did you, feel?” he repeated, with more force behind it.

 

I noticed the anxiousness in his face. The stranger was searching for something, something inside of me. He seemed fascinated by me. He was rather pale and aged. He had thin hair and bony cheek bones. His stance had a slight hunch to it. He wore a black trench coat. It looked expensive, too expensive to be worn in this neighborhood.

 

“He was fearless,” I finally said to him. “Like he wanted to make sure I was watching him. Like he was showing me what he was capable of.”

 

“Yes, but what did you feel?”

 

“I don’t know!” I suddenly yelled out.  There was another pause. I tried to get a hold of myself.  Then, “I didn’t take time to feel anything at all.”

 

The stranger gave me an apprehensive smile. It made me more uncomfortable. He slowly turned his head to look up at the building right across the street from us. “Were you afraid?” he asked.

 

“No,” I said without hesitation.

 

“Then that’s all I need to know for now, Mr. Wayde.”

 

I got off from the wall, carefully stepping out of the alley and into the side walk.

 

“You know who I am?” I asked him.

 

“I think at this point you should begin to ask more relevant questions,” he replied with a smirk.

 

“Oh yeah, like what?”

 

There was a sudden blur and the stranger was gone. As quickly as he disappeared he reappeared right next to me, his presence followed by excruciating pain.

 

“Are you dreaming right now?” he whispered to me. His voice was raspy and low. He sounded like I imagine death would. I looked into his colorless eyes one more time.  My horrified reflection gawked back at me.

 

Air escaped me. I looked down and witnessed the stranger’s hand, wrapped around the handle of a knife. The knife was buried inside me. My coat; drenched in my blood. Blood that I was beginning to savor in the back of my throat.

 

I jumped up with a loud cry and looked around. Found my things all over the place. Found that I was surrounded by the walls that made up my apartment. No stranger in sight. I was alone in my bed, covered in cold sweat. My heart, beating heavily.

 

I looked down. There was no blood. No knife. There was just the sound of the rain that entered from my opened balcony door.

 

I got up to close it shut. Then I proceeded to just stand there as I slowly began to breathe normally. I stood there and looked out into the wet streets.

 

I lied to the stranger.

 

I did feel something. I felt like I could do it too. I could jump from my floor and unto the streets below and survive it. I could move just as quickly as he did. Maybe even faster. I could survive a stab wound to the stomach. No problem.

 

I sighed.

 

I always believe all things within the dream, except of course for the dream itself.

The Third Chapter

For the past month, I’ve awaken feeling the same way in the morning: lost. As if I don’t know where I am or what date it is. I stare up at the ceiling for the longest time trying to figure that out. Sometimes I like to imagine I’m somewhere else, in a different era. Today I felt different though. I felt, hopeful. I arose and did my 50 sets of push ups, sit ups and pull ups. Afterwards, I got in the shower. When I got out I brushed my teeth and got dressed. Made myself a banana milk shake. Then I got my things and walked out the door.

It was cold outside. I wore a black sweatshirt with a hood.  Underneath it I had a long sleeve white t-shirt with my necklace of a shark tooth resting just above my chest. I wore a pair of faded jeans and a studded belt. My steel-toe boots thumped the stairs and the chain of my wallet clinked as I walked down my studio complex.

When reaching the bottom, I opened up a gate on the left and entered the parking lot. I walked towards my car; a 92 Volvo. It’s been good to me, never had a problem with it so I treated it well. I got inside and started it up. I took a deep breath. Today’s going to be a good day, I thought to myself. So I turned on my stereo. Rock pumped through the speakers. I shifted the stick back to reverse and got out of my parking spot. Then I drove out of there.

I drove carefully, minding the light fog around this part of the city. I was heading towards Cynthia’s apartment. Been dating her for about 6 months now. She lives with her sister and her punk kid nephew that I just can’t stand. I met her at a café were she still works as a waitress. Levi and I were having breakfast there like we do regularly when she suddenly walks up to us and serves me coffee that I didn’t order. I looked up at her. Thought she was real cute with her ponytail and dimples.

“Enjoy,” she says. “It’s on the house.”

”Thanks, that’s very nice of you,” I tell her.

“I don’t usually do this but I’ve seen you before and I just couldn’t resist this time,” she says, placing a napkin in front of me and walking off to attend her actual table.

I return to the napkin. Levi was already checking it out.

“What’s it say?” I ask him.

“Call me real soon. Her digits are underneath it,” he answers.

“You think I should?”
“Shit, if you don’t, I will.”

I smile. Levi hands me the napkin.

I was surprised the girl didn’t give this to him. He was the best looking guy I knew. I would see him with a different girl every now and then. Beautiful girls, thinking they had found someone special. The problem with Levi was that he never thought they were special. To him, they were all the same. He had a problem keeping a stable relationship as a result, mostly because he was right; they were the same. None were interesting. None were special. They all wanted the same old bullshit this world had to offer. All the things Levi had or could get.

“I had a real strange dream last night,” Levi tells me.

“More headless cats?” I ask.
“No, that’s not it. I dreamt that I was standing at the beach, looking out at the ocean. I would see that the waves would rise higher and higher. By the time they reached me, they were about 100 feet in the air. I’d die instantly.”

“2012,” I say to him.

Levi rolls his eyes “You don’t actually believe in that shit, do you?” he replies.

“How can’t I?” I ask. “People say things like that will happen in that year. The ocean will break out. The planet will go through a polar shift. Planet X’s arrival will destroy all we know. The planets in our solar system will align with the center of our galaxy and maybe something crazy will happen, like headless cats living under your bed,” I mock.

Levi looks at me for a moment. Then, “Did you know that even the Mayan’s Calendar ends at December 21, 2012?”

“Oh yeah, then there’s that. I forgot about that one.”

“Yeah, well fuck the Mayans.” Levi spurs at me. “That has nothing to do with this dream, or my last.”

I just laugh at him. We continue to eat.

After we had breakfast we left. Levi told me to leave the napkin behind with my phone number on it instead. He said that if the girl was really interested she’d have to call me first. Sure enough, that night she did. Said her name was Cynthia and that like me, she had just graduated from high school as well. We made plans to get together. When I went to pick her up, I met her sister and her punk kid nephew. He would call me fucker all the time. I blame his mother. Anyway, I would have breakfast with Levi less and less after that, until we just didn’t do it anymore.

I parked my car in front of Cynthia’s apartment. Hadn’t seen the place in a good while so I felt a little anxious about being there. I turned off the engine and walked out. Headed straight to her door, the one with the number 5 on it. When I reached it I took a deep breath again and knocked three times real fast.

It took a moment for someone to answer. I looked around. No one was outside with me. Then the door opened up and Cynthia eyes suddenly met mine.

“Holy shit, look who’s here,” she says.

“Who is it?” asks her sister from somewhere inside.

Cynthia smiles at me and shakes her head. “It’s Derek.”

“Close the damn door right now!” she replies.

“I will in a minute,” says Cynthia. “I just want to know what he has to say to me.”

“I don’t have much, really,” I respond.

“Yeah, I'm sure. Where the hell have you been?” she asks, crossing her arms in front of her.

“I’ve been around.”

“Around? Really, that’s all I get? I haven’t seen you for almost a month now, Derek!”
“I know.”

“Do you really? Do you have any idea what’s been going on?’

I shake my head. “I don’t care, Cynthia. I just came to tell you that I'm breaking up with you and that I’m very sorry to have made you wait for that.”

“Fuck you, alright?” she replies. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah okay.” I say, putting my hood over my head. I turn around to walk away.

“You’re shit, Derek.” I hear Cynthia speak behind me. “You wanna know something?”

“No,” I say and start walking.

“I’ve been cheating on your ass with Levi for the longest time. I'm sorry too for making you wait that long to tell you that.”

I stop walking. My pockets warm my hands. I slowly turn to her and shrug. She looks proud of herself.

“I know,” I say to her.

She doesn’t reply. She just stands there quietly and stares at me with a confused look. A look that wasn't proud anymore. It was a reflection of sudden regret. I find myself matching her glare until she finally goes back into her apartment and slams the door real hard behind her.

I continue on and got in my car. Started it and left. Most guys would fight back. They would want nothing less but to see someone suffer. I guess I didn’t feel that way because emotionally, I felt detached from it all. It didn’t hurt me to know what Levi and Cynthia were doing behind my back.

At least not at that particular moment.

“Quit playing around,” I remember telling Levi. “What’s up?”

“Alright, I’ll just give it to you straight,” he says. “We’ve been having sex.”

I look away almost immediately. I place my coffee on the table. I take a deep breath. The ball of my right foot can’t stop tapping the tile floor. My left hand squeezes the fork I hold. I let it drop on the plate filled with banana pancakes.

“You can have her,” I simply utter.

Levi shakes his head. “I don’t want her,” he replies.

“Then why fuck it up in the first place?”

“I don’t know. She seemed special.”

I could think of many reasons why I didn’t do anything to him there and then. But none of them really mattered. I backed down. I knew that much. I gave it all away without hesitation. Without remorse.

At that moment, Cynthia comes over to us. She serves me coffee with a big smile on her face.

“There you go baby,” she says to me.

I looked up at her. There was nothing special about her at all.

The Second Chapter

My home was a good size studio. I had moved in to it 2 months ago. At first, I thought the idea was great. It’s cheap. It’s comfortable. It’s cheap. The guys would always tell me not to move away from my folks if it wasn’t necessary. They would keep reminding me of how frustrating it is to have to pay for everything on their own. The rent was $450 a month, utilities included.

I was sure I can handle it. I had a great job as a Program Supporter at AAA Headquarters of IT. I wasn’t worried of getting into debt or not being able to pay the rent on time. Plus, I had saved up my money and there was no first month's rent due, giving me a chance to save up even more. Needless to say I was ready and excited. It was like getting a fresh new life.

When I moved out, I did it all on my own. My parents weren’t happy with my decision so they wouldn’t help me pack up my things or provide cargo.

“You rather support yourself than help support your family, and as a result, things get heavier,” is what my dad said to me.

I didn’t need to hear that shit. They always made me feel conflicted about things. Like when Sammy died, they kept asking me why I never tried to help him. As if I new he needed it. Same thing with this act of independence. They tried to make me question myself, tried to scare me away from my own life. They’ve done it before, many times over. This time was different.

I finally got my own place. Then things went down hill.

AAA had lost a whole shit load of money on a program that failed to meet standards. It never took off. Company had to cut expenses. Easiest way to handle the situation was to announce a lay off in the middle of a suffering economy. Meaning, I was laid off with nothing but a $50 Starbucks Giftcard to take home. I wasn’t fazed much. Thought I could take a break anyway so I didn’t bother to look for a new job the first month. No one knew about it. Hell, no one ever bothered to ask.

I had given up my social life a while back anyway. The only phone calls I’d get now where from my mom. The first time I decided to pick up, all I heard from her was I TOLD YOU SOs and GIVE UP ALREADYs. She tried so hard to persuade me to go back home. Told her I’d find a way. I always do. Haven’t answered her calls since.

I knew what lied up ahead. I knew that a week from now I would start paying rent and taking a fair bite off my savings. Probably still without a job. I accept that. It’s not the beginning of my end. "The sun will always rise for all days to come," is what my dad would say. I figured I'd take that and remaind where I am. There’s no point in dwelling so much on my short comings. There wouldn’t be time to do anything else.

I sat up on my futon. I happened to like this studio a lot. My place was in order. Keeping it that way wasn’t hard. I didn’t have many things. My TV was in front of me. I had no cable. No satellite dish. Not even an antenna. I had a bookshelf on my left containing DVDs and books. Mostly books. On my right I had the empty sink, an empty fridge and a small stow. Behind me, I had closet right next to my bathroom. Both were actually large.

Underneath my pillow was the first book I ever read. Sammy gave it to me a couple of days before he killed himself. Seeing that today marked the second anniversary since he did that, I decided I wouldn’t read it tonight. Instead I placed it under my futon and sat back down. I still couldn’t help but remember the night he gave it to me.

The whole gang was over at Pete’s house watching a football game and getting drunk. We were all there. Mia. Cesar. Levi. Sam, the only one who wasn’t drinking. He was the designated driver. I had to go to school the next morning so I wanted to get buzzed enough to not care that my team was losing. Still, I wanted to watch the game. Sammy wanted to talk about this stupid book. I was the only one that could stand hearing him over the TV so he felt free to talk a lot.

“This thing has such a cool way of challenging its characters in almost every chapter, dude, The main one is so fucking crazy, he beats up the guy who slept with his girlfriend and then gets his sister to beat her up. Then when he finds out his mother is sniffing cocaine, he purposely ODs on it just to proof how bad she could end up on it. But the ending is totally wild! The guy he beats up comes back right, and he-“

“Shut up, Sammy!” Pete hollers.

“We’re just talking about a book over here, man,” Sam replies.

“No, we’re here to watch the game! You wanna read a book like a little bitch; go do it in your car. You're pissing Derek off with your shit. Derek, tell Sam to leave you alone.”

Sam turns to look at me. “Am I pissing you off??

I lie and shake my head.

“Well you’re definitely pissing me off,” says Pete. “So stop it already, will ya. You're messing up the mood.”

Sam smacks his lips at him. He whispers to me, “Here, I want you to have it.”

“I'm cool man, thanks,” I whisper back “I really don’t like reading much.”

“No, come on. Let me give it to you. You’ll like it. Just promise me one thing.”

“Shit, what?”

Sam looks at me dead in the eye. “Start it tonight.”

I shake my head and show him my cup of beer. “Sorry, man. I’ll be too drunk for that.”

“You got school tomorrow, don’t you? You should stop. Make that your last cup. Now will you please accept this book?”

I sigh. I was drinking my last cup anyway. “Find I’ll take it. Thanks.”

He hands me the book. I proceed to open it up but Sammy stops me.

“Don’t read it now,” he says. “Wait till you get home.”

I give him a weird look. Then I hear Pete and the guys yell out real loud that it makes me jump. I look around laughing. Our team had scored a touchdown! We were going into overtime.

The fun continued on. I ate more hot wings and drank more beer till we won. I ended up getting drunk though. Too drunk to read Sammy’s beloved book that night; breaking my promise to him. That was the last time I would see him alive. I started reading it on the day Rebecca and the cops found his body. When I opened it, all of my thoughts about it changed completely. I even told myself I would throw the book away after I was done with it. But I’ve come to read the damn thing twice now. I even started on it again just yesterday.

When the police did their investigation, they concluded by labeling him as another suicide victim. Some however had theories of murder, which was offensive to us all. We would never hurt Sammy for any reason. They felt that way because no one ever found a suicide note on the scene.

That was because I had it. He had given it to me, only I never knew it existed until I started reading the book. A flash card was placed inside of it with writing:  It said, “Please, help me.”

Anyway, I’ve felt too awful to share this with anyone else.

The First Chapter

Sammy always wanted to do something great.

I remember him telling me one night, “Hey, Derek. I want to do something great.”

I would stare at him for a moment. Then slowly turn back to the TV and continue playing his Guitar Hero. He wasn’t high. But he might as well have been. It would explain why he did so much stupid shit all the time.

I once caught him outside his window wearing only his wife beater and his dumb boxers with hearts all over it, talking about jumping. He was on the third floor of his apartment. The fall wouldn’t have killed him. Hell, it probably would have done him some good.

  Dying wasn’t his intent, though. He had come to the conclusion, that if he wanted to be famous, he’d have to do something totally dramatic. And dramatic he was. He figured the media would spread his name throughout the city for him. All he had to do is stand up there with a sad and desperate look on his face for as long as the authorities would allow. After the event, he’d joke about it all day long. All week. All month. The guy was unbearable.

After a while, he and his story had been forgotten. We all knew that would happen, only none of us cared enough to tell him that.

We knew who Samuel Morris was. I guess that wasn’t enough for him.

So on the morning of October 23, 2006, Samuel’s body was discovered hanging from his living room’s chandelier by his younger sister, Rebecca. She would visit him every once in while to see how he was doing. Maybe she was the only one who feared something like that would occur soon. We never did. Sammy was always being Sammy to us. He was that guy that you would want around just you can have someone to clown on. We all just thought he had a great sense of humor.

Anyway, he was 21 years old when he gave up his life. The gang thought that it would be cool if we kept that date in mind and dedicated to his memory for the years to come. We even picked out a restaurant to go to for the event, Sammy’s. It was his favorite. Said, the owner named if after him for saving his dog from drowning. We all knew the guy couldn’t swim. We would always let him have his moments.

What happened brought us all closer to each other. All of a sudden, we became more considerate to everyone’s needs. There was more respect and protection. We all couldn’t help but feel guilty for the decision our pal made. We were scared of having to go through that again so we were careful about crossing over any lines from then on. When his passing reached its first anniversary, we gathered at Sammy’s and ate and talked and laughed. We had fun. We reminisced and ended it with a toast. To Sam, may we live his dreams.

A year later, on the second anniversary, only two people showed up at Sammy’s; Rebecca and me. Everyone else had an excuse. She and I hadn’t seen each other in months. There wasn’t much to talk about. We didn’t even have a meal. We shared an appetizer and left soon after finishing it. There was no laughter. No toast.

I walked home and fell on my futon. Thought about Sammy for the rest of the afternoon. That was supposed to be the point of the day, to reflect on him and on our own lives. I wonder what was going through his mind when he was making his noose. I wondered if he asked himself; will they remember me after this? I guess everyone else asked themselves a better question; should we?