Echoes, November and Incense

"It's cold and gray again,
Your body beings to thaw,
The color blind your eyes,
The flavor dulls your taste of everything,
You try to break out,
But something just locked the door."
-"Burning Skies", Tones on Tails

I was 15 and I thought I was beginning to lose my mind, but I was too afraid to tell anyone in dread of having my fears confirmed. I was just a kid and my perception of madness was as frightening as it was cliché, a myriad of images as thin as paper cut outs of being locked away in a padded room in a white jacket. Each night I closed my eyes to sleep the monsters came, things that skittered and some that shambled and yet still others that oozed like creeping molasses. I began not to sleep much, trying to avoid the abyss of my nightmares.

Sometimes when I was awake and alone, I would see things move from the corner of my eyes, shadows sometimes darted across walls, there was even the occasional whisper I couldn't explain but would hear. There would be times when I was by myself I would suddenly get the feeling I was being watched, a tingle like some sort of bastardize version of a famous spider sense. I wasn't a superhero; my special power was just sleep deprivation. I wasn't sure if I was just being paranoid or was there something more, it felt like my days and nights were melting together in one big, runny mess.

To make the fear I felt all the thicker, my cousin became an emotional train wreck one day and his next stop happened to be my home to visit my mother. A girl and he were having the sort of party that get people elevated, and in doing so the girl began to act funny before suddenly flipping. Maybe it was just the drugs, but that day he seen and heard something unworldly and evil in that girl, he fled. Even though he sobbingly confessed he would attend church from then on, his fear like his convictions; was short lived.

A few days later, I had a nightmare that I came home and everyone was dead. I came through the front door on a beautiful sunny day, and the living room floor was saturated with blood, it also speckled the walls. A dark and sickeningly thick trail led up the steps and into the hallway then into my sister's room. I stopped outside the door, my heart was racing and deep down I knew once I opened that door the already buckling sanity inside of my skull would be blasted into oblivion. I touched the door knob and slowly opened the door...

I woke up with a start, sitting up in a cold sweat and my pulse racing like I had been running a marathon. I didn't see what was in the room; I thanked God for small favors. I had come home to crash after hanging out with friends most of the afternoon, spending that much time in the sun had my head pounding when I finally walked through my bedroom door at 12 something that afternoon. The seething red numbers on the clock across the room told me it was after 4 pm. I gathered my wits, told myself it wasn't real...and then took a shower.

I always took a shower after a nightmare, even if it was the middle of the night. Some how the hot water felt like it melted away all the blackness that the nightmare came from, and as that water was going down the drain it is taking much of the dread with it. After grabbing some clothes, I packed several CD's and games to bring along.

No one was home and the house was silent, when I opened my room door I could see some of the other bedroom doors were open and scattered sheets of dying light came in through their blinds. I couldn't figure out why but the entire atmosphere felt a little unsettling. I dismissed it and quickly escorted it to the back of my mind; logic can be strong that way.

Crossed the hall.

Down the steps.

When I stepped out the front door and looked up at the sky it hung over head like a specter, big, empty and intimidating. It was all a surreal canvas plastered with stains of lingering but fading orange and gold that were melting into ambers of violet. All of it was tumbling into the approaching blackness and stars. Across the crystal clear, winter sky the sun was dissipating, a dying phoenix that sent the last of its defiant fiery rays across the heavens even as the twilight continued to eat it up.

It was silent, no birds, and no dogs, nothing. That was until the metallic and shrill cry of a train some miles away drifted pass. It was more then the residue left over from my nightmare, the black place it came from night after night got a hairline fracture from my abrupt waking, and it was seeping out into my world. Part of me felt as if I hadn't awaken, that some how I was stranded in a place between being in the real world and the world painted in grays by slumber. I took a few more steps and looked around, my breath steamed on the air as if to remind me it was cold out, and getting colder. I suddenly didn't feel like going too far from the house. I considered going back in and holding up in my warm room, but turning to look back seemed to cause the house to loom with an almost unwelcoming presence. On top of it all the house was also empty. I decided to take my chances going else where.

I hesitated to leave, I had no real reason to hesitate but something stood there like an invisible sign. On that approaching winter evening it felt like the world was haunted and silenced by unseen specters, the sky was a the biggest ghost of them all.

I shook the feeling and decided to go to Brandon's house; I had told him I would spend a few days over his place once I had gone home and gotten some sleep to continue the day. I began my walk and the ambers of light were slowly draining from the sky over the neighborhood, night felt like it was creeping up instead of just approaching. I went around the corner and crossed the street before stepping onto the train tracks, the crunch of all the white rocks felt like a boom. I walked a lot lighter, why? I had no reason.

The bridge stretched out before me a derelict contraption of dead gray metal and crumbling wood; it wasn't there for beauty, its only purpose was to be the Atlas to the train's world each time it passed. I felt a little better at the sight of the nature trail that led to Meridian Courts. It was always sheltered by trees and they too were becoming intricate patterns against the colossal sky and dying light.

The silence was so loud, it didn't belong; it was like it stuffed its oversized self in the area and smothered out sound. I wanted to hear a dog bark, a car pass, even birds...but there was nothing except the sounds of my boots as I walked across the bridge. I had reached the middle of the bridge, when I noticed a yellow rope tied to one of the slightly burned post. I became curious and so I walked over, sometimes some of the kids would build traps in hopes of catching something.

I leaned over and the view of the water and plants below the bridge all came into view, and at the end of the yellow rope their hung the black and white body of a large dog. It was a shock that went up my spine and I took a step back, I remembered waking up and wondered if I was some how in another nightmare. The dissipating twilight felt a lot colder, I leaned to look again and there it remained. That is when the first bird made any noise all day. It was one of the local crows, and it began calling from a distant tree near Meridian Courts.

"God, what sort of sick bastard..." I didn't finish the question; there was no one there to answer it anyway. I walked across the bridge then turned and walked carefully down the bank that were several feet above the waters of the creek. The dog hung from the middle of the bridge, tethered there like a makeshift prop in some ridiculous B horror film. Its eyes still wide with whatever panic and agony it had experienced; its jaws were a lewd spectacle of large white teeth and dripping red blood. The tongue protruded, big, heavy and purple like a small dead creature caught in the jaws of the lifeless beast.

It was a brutal and elaborately cruel thing. As I stared on my breath continued to steam on the air, the dog swung just ever so slightly at the end of that yellow rope. An odd thing happened, I thought about the dog at the end of its rope, and the metaphor about "being at the end of one's rope" and I suddenly felt like bursting out into laughter, but the scene was so sad that nothing came. How could anyone do that to an animal that could love someone more then itself? I ran a hand over my face as if to wipe something away, I was in awe at the utter brutality, it wasn't the worse thing I had seen and yet it wasn't. It dawned on me much colder then the air surrounding me, suddenly I felt as dumb as I did suddenly unsettled.

I turned and looked around quickly, scanning the banks of the creek and then looking up at the bridge. I listened for noises as I looked everywhere without really moving or making much sound. In my need to inspect the situation, I never thought those responsible could still be there, and could even be watching. There was still that silence, and even the crow was quiet then. I looked around before hurrying up the embankment and onto the nature trail. How could such a thing go unnoticed? I walked at a quickened pace, just needing to get inside some where quickly. The combined efforts of the nightmare, the silence and then the dog were eating away at my reason.

I hurried down the trail shrouded by the numerous trees and bushes, their shadows literally blanketed the ground. Several minutes later I reached the blue-green gate that separated Meridian courts from the creek and other neighborhoods; I tossed my backpack over before climbing over to follow it. I grabbed my bag, hurried through the empty park and basketball court, crossed the street and made my way up the path leading to Brandon's front door.

I had rung the door bell only once before the door opened and there stood Brandon. "Sup, Walt! Come on in." He didn't need to ask if he hadn't stepped aside I am sure our shoulders would have collided. The dying light was pouring in through the octagon window over his front door and through a large window in the front room. The light ran across one of the walls, glinted on a crystal chandelier and rested upon the French furniture that was reserved only for important guest. It was a place me and Brandon sometimes sat when no one was home and pretended to discuss business; at least we thought it was funny.

Brandon was one of my best friends, had been for years by that point. He was the sort of kid that was really smart but just couldn't stay out of trouble or fly straight. The tragedy that was Brandon was that he could have easily been an honor role student if he could have just buckled down. I witnessed years of conflict between he and his Father, it is one of my sadder memories. The communication lines between Father and son was filled with a sort of static that comes past regrets, grudges and rebellion. They were good people, they didn't deserve it but it was there.

Deep down I believe his Father believed a day would come when Brandon would get his head on straight and prove all his critics wrong, a real Father or Mother always believes that sort of miracle is possible. I was just his friend and yet even I believed that would happen. It was akin to waiting for a personal D-Day. There is almost nothing as disappointing as watching someone you care about making the wrong decisions until redemption seems like a fantasy. It would lead between a lot of fights and even some resentment later between Brandon and me, but at that moment we were just 14 and standing in his living room.

"What's wrong with you?" Brandon asked curiously.

"I'm not sure." I replied honestly before shaking my head. "Just having a bad day I guess, some sick bastard hung a dog from the bridge by a rope."

"Serious?" Brandon closed his door and turned to face me completely.

"As a heart attack..." His house was warm and inviting, no one was home so I walked into his living room to take a seat. It was an arena filled with sports memorabilia such as signed balls and gloves, pictures and more. His old man was a sports fanatic, the only other thing he probably loved as much was fishing. I sat on one of the large, black arm chairs and leaned my head back. I was getting another headache, a problem that had always been and will always be with me.

"Damn, that is pretty fucked up. I wonder who would do something like that." Brandon took a seat some few feet away on a couch of the same color. "Let's go back and look."

"Hmm, let me think about that. No." I opened my eyes and looked over at him. "Are you out of your mind?"

"What? You can't come in here and tell me there is a dog hanging from the bridge and not expect me to want to see it!" Brandon frowned. "What could it hurt?"

"What if some psychopath is hiding near by waiting for two idiots to come strolling on back to take a gander at the hanging puppy?" I returned his frown.

"First off I am not taking a 'gander', I am going to go and rudely stare. Secondly, don't you think that is a bit dramatic, Walt?" Brandon laughed a little.

"Yeah, well I'll remember that when you are being murdered on the bridge and I am running away." I chuckled before taking a breath, oddly enough; I really didn't want to go back out.

Brandon stood to his feet and walked over to a coat rack where his coat had been hanging before snatching it off. "Pfft, he wouldn't be murdering me. I would make a deal with him; if he let me go I would help him chase you down so he could make you bleed nice and slow like." He started laughing.

"Sick bastard." I stood from my chair and followed him to the door. I knew were we were going. "Just for that, when I get murdered I am going to come back as a wraith and haunt your Father's restaurant." Brandon and I laughed as we stepped out the front door and began our way back down to the bridge. The sun had sunken completely out of sight by that point; only an ethereal orange halo remained on the horizon. We were silent on our way down the nature trail until reaching the bridge where the dog remained dangling at the end of that bright yellow rope.

"Goddamn, that is some pretty sick stuff." Brandon walked onto the bridge, the eerie silence remained. "Probably was a group of those dumb ass taggers. Someone should wrap a rope around their scrawny throats and dump their ass over the side of the bridge."

"If only." The both of us stared down at the dog for several minutes before I looked up and down the bridge. "Raja give you a call you today?"

"Yeah, I was talking to her a few minutes ago actually before you showed up." Brandon spit over the side of the bridge. "Damn that girl has a body."

"I guess." I replied nonchalantly.

"Seriously Walt!" Brandon exclaimed. "I can imagine how that looks without clothes. She has this great ass that just sways with her hips when she's walking. Not to mention she has those great pair of..." He turned to look at me while he was speaking, I just stared at him.

"Well, I guess we should all have dreams." I rolled my eyes before looking down the tracks, it was completely empty and void of life. For a moment it felt like the entire area was abandoned. Just then a car passed down the street, I felt a little better.

"Are you gay or something?" Brandon suddenly laughed. "I'm talking about a fine ass female and you aren't even remotely interested." He paused for a moment before grinning. "You know that one Filipino chick has a thing for you, right? The short one with the blonde streaks in her hair, I think you should give her a shot. She is hell of pretty, Walt."

"Her problem." I felt a little cold having replied so simply. "Yeah, she's really attractive but...I just have no interest." I looked back down at the dog, I felt sorry for it. I considered untying the rope or cutting it, but then I didn't want it to fall into the cold waters. "Has nothing to do with gay, I'm just not interested. Forgive me for not trying to hump everything in a skirt..."

"Pfft, I like em in shorts too." He laughed causing me to laugh a little. "I swear man sometimes it is like you are in some sort of weird ass daze or something. You wonder why everyone thinks you're so weird."

I looked up at the sky, it was clear and the sunlight was nearly completely gone, it looked as if the sky was going on forever. "I don't wonder because I don't care." I looked from the sky and to him. "Their opinions of me are meaningless."

"If you wanted to have females, you could get one; Walt." Brandon shook his head a little. "Let me hook you up with someone. I still think you should try and talk to Rose, seriously though. What's the problem?"

"Maybe...but if I wanted a girlfriend I would be dating right now." I turned and looked at him. "I also think Veronica is very pretty, you know her, right?"

Brandon searched his memory banks momentarily before remembering. "Vanessa's cousin right? Yeah, Veronica is fine. I didn't know you would date any Latino girls." Brandon said curiously. "You thinking about trying to get her number?"

I smiled a little before looking up at the sky; it had so many beautiful hues to it. I felt like I could stand there and stare at it for hours if it wasn't all so creepy. "No, nothing like that, I have considered it but I like someone else a lot more then her. I don't think I want to ask either of them out, the point I am making is that I think a lot of girls are very pretty, or very attractive, but that doesn't mean I want to date any of them. Besides, most of them are just friends anyway."

"A guy surrounded by so many girls and yet has no interest in any of them?" Brandon rubbed his chin as if he was thinking. "You sure you aren't gay? You haven't dated anyone else since..." He busted out laughing.

"I highly doubt that, and yes I know." I chuckled.

"So, who is this other girl?" Brandon asked curiously.

"Malalee." I stated such simply.

"Why her?" Brandon frowned a bit.

"Because she is really sweet and I think she is also really attractive." I turned to look at him once more. "Why shouldn't I?"

"They call her sticky fingers for a reason." Brandon smirked.

"Ah, you mean your idiot friends." I shook my head. "When will you stop believing everything someone else tells you? Because they are supposedly popular doesn't mean they know what the hell their talking about all the time. I asked her if it was true, she said it wasn't and thus that is good enough for me, man."

"Well, yeah. I guess you got a point Walt. But most rumors have some bit of truth to them. I never dated an Afghan girl before." Brandon chuckled. "Some of them are hell of fine though. Well, I guess Malalee is pretty..."

"Doesn't matter, I will probably never ask her out." I smiled a little knowing deep down it was more then just a little true. "I do really like her though." I wanted to change the subject, that sort of subject always bothered me for one reason or another. On top of that it was growing dark out, the shadows seemed to began to deluge. "Things better between you and Raja?"

"Yeah, we aren't fighting anymore." Brandon chuckled.

"Well good to hear things are calm with the both of you again." I slid my hands into my pockets. "Might as well head back; unless you know the secrets of the resurrection." I started walking off the bridge and Brandon followed.

"Yeah, but I can only use it once and I am saving that for me." Brandon chuckled as we started back on the path, maybe it was true because years later he would come back from death's door. We were quiet for a while before Brandon spoke again. He slid his hands into his pockets and looked around first. "You know something, Walt? This is a creepy damn day."

Hours later Brandon, his little brother and me were sitting in the upstairs family room playing Double Dragon and Battle Toads. The room was completely dark as me and Brandon censored our conversation about people at school as to not have his little brother repeating a lot of our words. The door opened and Mr. Jones took a couple of steps into the room, he was still dressed in his suit with just the tie undone.