I started this blog to be able to post my writing up for the world to see. Obviously it hasn't really gone that far, but there are the few that do read this. I keep it up because it's a good outlet for my own mind and my writing. I hope that if you are reading, you enjoy.
While Christopher slept I threw on my shirt and grabbed my bag and moved to the bathroom. The cold of the porcelain on my butt chilled my entire body. I took out the tiny gold vile. The silver liquid sloshed around inside. This would be enough to last me a few days. I took out some rubber and a needle and filled it fully with the fluid. Flicking the needle, I placed it and the vile on the counter and made sure they were safe. They were not something that I could replace easily.
I tied the rubber around my arm and pulled it with my teeth. My tongue stung with the nasty taste of the band and I gagged. I started shaking and took the needle and tapped my lower arm to pull a vein up. Injecting the fluid felt cold. I could feel the flow of it going through my body. I placed my finger over the dot of blood that budded on the spot where I’d removed the needle out. The hole closed up and looked like a freckle on my skin. I sighed and leaned my head against the tile wall.
Pulsing with new life, I reached my hand out and focused on the small bottle of soap on the sink. It floated in the air and flew to my hand. I let it float around in the air for a while. I smiled to myself and knew that I could do what I’d need to for the next couple of days. Life without Magique was a sad existence.
A knock shattered my concentration and the small bottle that floated in the air in front of me. The gooey substance oozed out of the broken bottle. I wiped my hand over it and pushed it through the floor. The knock came again, along with his voice.
“Anissa, you ok? You’ve been in here for a half hour,” his voice sounded worried.
“I’m ok. Just a stomach ache,” I hurriedly packed up my ‘tools’ and tucked my bag under my arm. I opened the door and Christopher’s smiling face hardened. I followed his gaze and noticed that I hadn’t removed the rubber tourniquet from my arm. I pulled it off and shoved it in my front pocket.
“Anissa, what were you really doing?”
“Christopher…I can explain. I think, it’s not what it looks like,” I put my bag down and stood in front of him with my arms hugging around my body.
“Well?” he looked at me and then looked to my arm.
“It’s just a medicine for a virus I have. Nothing big; don’t worry about it,” I took my stuff and went back to the bedroom. I felt guilty sleeping next to the man who kept giving me so much; and I was just lying to him.
I walked downtown, and took a left onto Right St. How ironic, I thought to myself. I guess that was all just a big joke, as most things were around here. I pulled up my collar and walked up to the Korean Barbeque and knocked on the back door. A slot slid back, revealing a pair of red eyes.
“Code word?” the voice was deep and raspy, like a chain smoker.
“Bezoar,” I flipped open my Zippo and tapped my pack of Blacks on my wrist. I pulled out one of the cloves out with my lips and lit it. Taking a long drag off of it I looked at my watch. 11:54pm…I only had about 3 hours. I took another long drag off of my clove and tapped my foot impatiently. I really didn’t have time for this. I blew out the exhaust from my lungs and heard the opening of the locks, the sliding of the latch and the turning of the handle.
A large man in a long robe stood in the doorway and blocked my path. He held out his hand and I extended my arm. He pulled the sleeve of my trench coat and nodded seeing the token of acceptance. A searing brand throbbed on my forearm. It burned and was bothersome. He moved out of my way.
“Ms. Halor, anything I can plan for you while you’re shopping?” he bowed his head as I stepped over the threshold. I handed him my coat and shook out my shoulders.
“I guess that you could order a massage with Thisbe and make sure that there’s a cab waiting for me in about an hour. I’ll be done soon.” I put out the clove in the ashtray near the door and walked down the dark hallway. I looked at my watch again and picked up the pace. I needed my fix and time was really running out.
I finally reached the entrance to the Market. The sound of the entire place hit me at once and I put on my sunglasses. The shinning lights from the enchanted ceiling would blind a normal human. There were booths, restaurants, and open aired venders selling their wares. I knew where I was going, and let my feet do their thing, leading me there. My first stop was to see Trek. Trek was my connection. It was the only way to find it. The Market was only known to people whose families have a background of Magique.
I found Trek’s place easily, I’d been here many times before. I turned my neck to the side and cracked it. I pushed back the curtain and entered the opium den and took off my glasses, looking around at who was partaking today. Malaysia was there, and so was Benito. They were sitting in the back corner smoking out of a hookah, and looked up only briefly looked up and then went back to their conversation. I walked up to Trek and threw down a wad of money and a small black bag.
“Trek…I need a hit. A big one, I’ve got things to do and not a lot of time. Hook me up?” I tapped my foot, my arm tingling the whole time.
“Oh, Anissa, hey…I was expecting you,” he looked at the stack of twenties and the bag of gems, “man you really do need some huh? Come on let’s go.”
He took my hand and led me into the back. It was clean, despite the outer appearance. It was almost like a tattoo parlor, sterile looking and something you wouldn’t expect to find in a hole like this. I followed Trek into the back and was in the chair waiting before he even got the tourniquet out.
“You really should watch yourself. You’re going to get really addicted and it’s just going to start eating away. You know the stories, the price, everything…yet you still come to get your kicks.” He measured out the correct amount of Magique and tapped the side of the syringe. I braced myself for the initial pain of the needle and then sighed as the viscous fluid flowed from the glass container, into my veins.
My body reacted the way that it always did and I shook a little and gripped the chair tightly. The energy flowed through my veins with the Magique. I felt the rush and opened my eyes. Everything was always so much clearer when you had a hit. This one was good, it would last me at least a good 3 weeks. I’d need it to deal with Christopher.
So many people, like Christopher, didn’t understand Magique. People whose bodies could not handle the Magique would suffer from Trips. These were the negative effects of Magique when used by those who couldn’t.
There was a deep seeded need for the world to have Magique. It was something people were born with, even though it had died out. It had to be in your family’s history to actually be usable. Magique was not something for learning any more. The Elders had established a way to harness the Magique and made it into a substance that could be manipulated. Stupid teenagers made it the new fad. If you had a Magique bloodline, then you would find a way to get it. Magique was traditionally ingested; but with the world moving as it did, people needed it faster and more convenient. That’s when injecting it started, and that’s when I started getting Magique injections. The times changed and the fads kept coming; first it was injecting, and then huffing it, followed by taking pills, smoking it, and finally tabs.
It was like the drug syndicate that only the privileged knew about, it was something that was kept from normal society, especially after the Hunt. The Hunt was to track down the witches and wizards and kill them for being different. True, some were evil and used Magique for their own selfish purposes. It was a plague on the Earth that needed to be stopped and that’s what some of us were trying to do. That’s why Magique cost so much. That’s why you needed to go underground for it. That’s why I was so intent on harnessing it for a greater purpose. I would need it to deal with killing the man that I had come to love.
Another year...another birthday. 22. It's interesting; I feel no different...as happens most birthdays; yet people see me differently, tell me I'm growing, changing, etc. I sometimes wish I could expel myself from my own body so that I could see the changes that people claim they see. It's 1:16am. I've been dealing with a hectic life lately. No job. No love life. No direction. No clue. I suppose they don't give you any of those when you graduate do they? No. They won't.
My great uncle died a week ago. His grave-side service was today. I cried. A lot. It was strange though. It wasn't his death, the service or anything that got to me. It was two things: 1. Seeing my Grandfather cry and then approach me to ask me to write a similar sentimental walk down memory lane for him at his funeral & 2. Not knowing how to deal with death. Being afraid of it. Not knowing 'what's out there'. The mystery of it all scares the shit out of me.
The service was beautiful. The flowers gorgeous, the family smiling their best. I felt bad I couldn't remember what Uncle Lendon had looked like until we got little cards with his picture and a poem on the back. I saw family I hadn't seen in a while, cried tears I'd been holding back for a month and really thought long and hard about life and death.
I've never known how I would deal with death until today. A man I didn't really know, except for memories that my mother poured onto me throughout the day about how much she liked him and how wonderful he was, was the reason and the light that I've been needing to see to help me deal with my Grandpa's imminent death.
Death saves. I've never really believed in God. Never really had a reason to. He took so much from me, and my loved ones, I refused to believe in Him. I never saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and never thought that Heaven waited for all people. Little things would enlighten me that there was something after we leave this Earth. The white tulip on Uncle Tommy's funeral day; my mother talking to her father; the absence of the rain we were supposed to get today (yesterday). It makes me wonder and question my faith, or lack thereof.
Life goes on. My mum is right when she talks about the memories. We make them, share them, revel in them and most of all remember them. That's what makes them memorable; the fact that we can keep them for years and always look back and remember the laughter, fun and joy we felt making them. I hope that other members of my family will eventually see the light and come over into that belief.
You can't buy love, happiness, or memories. They come with a price yes, but they are things that keep us sane, healthy and smiling.
Grandpa's in the hospital again. I know it's coming but I just feel like there's so much more that can come from his life rather than his death. I love him so much. Missing him won't solve anything...I know that...but is it selfish to not love him to the length where I'd give my heart for his? China too...what if he dies while I'm there? How will I live with myself? Flight can take me back to his cold body...but it can't take me back to say the goodbyes I'm afraid will go unsaid. Then again, in my heart of hearts I feel that if I write my goodbyes, it'll be too preemptive and they'll be ill omens and that will not bode well.
I leave with this, that I love him and keep him forever in my heart and mind.
I'm so lost when it comes to people these days. They continue to twist and turn into things that I don't necessarily like or can even deal with. It's frustrating. Damn it all. I guess there are really only the hand full of people that really mean anything. And then there are the numerous files of people on the side that mean something, but don't really hold any kind of flame in the light of recent things. I'm done burning candles for nothing. It's a waste of wax; a waste of time; a waste of precious things that I guess I can't really care to let go any more. Things are changing and I can see that in retrospect, I guess I just don't want them to. There are things, people, even...tiny things that I miss, or I'm going to miss. It's sad. I love so openly and I get hurt over and over again. I almost just want to tell people to fuck off...I guess that would be just the tip of the proverbial iceberg of bullshit that happens throughout my daily life. It's something that I guess I'm going to have to deal with. Maybe I'll write about it. That's probably the best thing to do and it's something that I knew was going to happen...
A month earlier...
