Today
by R. I. Pope
The invisible flames stretch up to lick the soles of my feet, and occasionally reach around to grasp my ankles and pull me downward. The whispering wind tries to comfort me, telling me it’ll be alright. The pseudo drama of soap opera junkies pours from the windows of every apartment building that lines these congested streets. The mayhem of the day is an order of religious zealots served with superstitious paranoids and a side order embellishment, all for the low price of one soul per dish. A warning siren sounds and everyone drains from the streets. Cars left running, empty baby strollers, abandoned shopping bags, it’s more or less a free-for-all if you’re willing to risk your life. The formless beasts sweep through the streets devouring any straggler too slow to find shelter. Two laps around and then disappear with a howl that shakes the ground. The streets fill back up and everyone is back on the track they stepped off. The flames are now wrapped around my shins up to my knees and my pace slows. My head aches with the pounding of a beating heart that isn’t my own. Every telephone pole has a poster with dark red eyes that seem to follow you. I need to get away from this chaos.
The park is a place that is usually full of life. Children playing, people jogging, picnics, dog walkers, but today there’s nothing, no signs of life. Even plants appear dead and the trees have no leaves, not typical for a sunny summer day. Everything is almost black and white. There is no sound aside from my own movement. I sit on a bench trying to make the beating in my head stop. The siren sounds again and I can hear half a scream and a car alarm going off for about 20 seconds then it’s all silent again. The flames are gripping tightly around my waist as I lay down. The sun threatens to burn any exposed flesh. I cover my face with my arms, the world dies when I close my eyes. Visions of heinous acts flow in front of my mind’s eye. With every heartbeat another dark act is committed. The sense of relief is like a drug that I have not taken in countless years. At this point I’d be happy to settle for the generic brand, Bittersweet. I don’t mind taking the bad with the good as long as there is some good. Like a Harley with training wheels, a tropical vacation surrounded by lava flow, rich chocolate cake laced with cyanide, silk panties with shit stains… just give me a little good. The siren sounds. The flames now grip my entire body, binding me to the bench. My clothes burn away, with my flesh, with my bone, with my memory. Relief.
I was struck with that all too familiar feeling of being watched, my eyes snap open. She must’ve only been 4 or 5 standing beside the bench. I could still feel the impression of one of the bench bolts where it was pressing into my back as I sat up. She was the only person I could see. I asked her where her parents were, how she got there, if she was lost. She just sat down beside me.
“It’s been almost 5 years since I died,” she said.
“Excuse me?” Her body and voice were that of a child but her mannerisms and speaking technique were much more sophisticated than any child I’ve ever met.
“When I was 33 I was in a boating accident and drowned. My body may be young but I assure you I’m as capable as any adult mentally.” I guess it can’t hurt to play along, it might be interesting. “I have the chance to relive my best memories… and my worst. When I was 14 I had my first kiss, at 17 I met my first love, 18 I lost my virginity. After highschool I was accepted to the first college I applied for and at the beginning of my third year I met who would become my best friend.. He was one of my professors, no we never slept together. I was 22 when I met my true love. When I’m 24 I get engaged and three years after that I’m married. At 28 I was diagnosed with cancer and at 30 I defeated it. I have no regrets from the life I lived and get to live again.”
I ask, “How did this come to be?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. After I died I could hear a soft voice saying ‘Would you do it again if you could?’ and I replied ‘Only if I may keep my memories.’ Then I was born again, quite literally.”
My mind drifted for a few moments onto the thoughts of reliving my own life. Would it be worth dealing with all the horrible moments again just to have the few enjoyable ones? Would I follow the same path? Would a small change completely alter the future. I turn to her and begin to ask if she plans on changing anything, but she’s up and walking back toward the city. She just waves here tiny arm and skips away. My head starts pounding again and I lie back down. I remember back when I was a kid and how simple everything was. Having fun was the most important thing. Summer days brought endless possibilities and the evenings were spent planning the activities of the following day. Now it’s empty bank accounts, unrewarding jobs, and the constant longing for the kind of rest you will never have because you are always worrying about one problem or another. Perhaps I would like to live again, and fully enjoy the moments I took for granted as a child.
Eventually the pounding subsides and I get up and drag myself back to my apartment just in time to watch the world turn black. I throw myself on my bed and just lay there, still. The day quickly turned into one of those eerily quiet nights that make you wonder if you’re the only one left, the silence only broken by the hum of the fan that’s guarding the window as it breathes in the night fog and blows it into my dreams. Those kind of dreams that chew away the line that separates imagination and reality. Those dreams that bring confusion in the moments of waking, leaving you wondering where you are and what you were doing until you notice the warm pillow beneath your head and you relax just long enough to fall back into another dream. The darkness outside is never ending and seems to drag on for weeks, carrying you through the emptiness and out the other side.
