Passageways & Portals: Rebirth, Part 3

“What kind of place is this?” The young man didn’t expect a lucid response, but he also didn’t want to be surrounded by silence and alone at the moment.

“This is a wonderful and terrible place,” the old man said. “Here we are everywhere and we are nowhere, all at the same time. We are nothing, yet we are everything. This is a truly splendid place indeed, son.”

The young man shivered at the words. There was something uncanny in the way the old man spoke that at first he could not shake, but he pushed the unsettling thoughts from his mind. “Have you climbed the wall of this crater?”

“No, no, no, that is not my lot my good man,” the old man said with a laugh. “I do not want to know what’s beyond the wall, I enjoy it fine down here, thank you very much.”

“Suit yourself. I’m gonna make my way up there though, I can’t spend my life dawdling down here.” The young man began to pull and hoist himself up the rock wall.

“May wings ever find you in the midst of your climb, son! Let me know what’s on the other side when you get there!” the old man called out.

As the young man reached out looking for crevices in the rock wall, he wondered if this was something he had ever done before. It felt like a foreign venture to him. That didn’t mean that he hadn’t done it before though, maybe it had been much time since his last time as a climber. Maybe there was a time when he used to do this for fun, or maybe he had to do it as a job of some sort.

He slowly pulled himself up, pushing with his legs when he could find good footholds. He tried not to look up or down, he felt that if he knew his progress it would either give him false hope or discourage him. The moment he was in was the most important part of the climb. 

With each movement upward he felt a little more exhausted and aches spread through his body. His mouth became drier as well and he felt hungrier. The pace of his adventure was catching up to him. How much longer could he keep up? He risked a look up toward the top of the wall. It loomed high above him, as if he hadn’t moved at all. 

The time had felt as though it had been dragging, he felt as though he had been climbing that wall for hours. He tried hoisting himself up further, but felt almost as though a weight was pushing against him. It wasn’t just gravity, something else was working against him to keep him from moving any further up the wall. 

“Are you having trouble up there?” the old man called out.

“I can’t seem to get any higher,” the young man called back.

“Look down,” the old man said.

The young man dared to look down for a moment. He was disheartened by what he saw. At that moment he realized that he hadn’t really made any progress. He didn’t even think he made it as high as the old man was sitting when they met. Some great weight was bearing down on him, keeping him from moving up the wall any further. Should he continue trying to scale the wall, or should he just stop and find another attack point?

He leaned his head against the wall frustrated. Sure, he could continue to try to make his way up the wall, but if there was something preventing him from making it any higher what was the point? There had to be some way out of the crater, he just had to regroup and figure it out. 

He began to climb back down the wall, but his footing was unsure. He slid a little down the face of the wall; his hands kept him from falling any further. Trying to regain his footing, though, his hands began to slip. Sounds of the old man starting to climb up the wall to his aid reached his ears just as his fingers slipped from the rock he was holding onto. Almost as if in slow motion he watched the top of the wall move further away. He watched the old man pass him. Then everything went black.

Passageways & Portals: Rebirth, Part 2

“Why hello there!” a voice called out. 

            “What the…” The sound of another voice in this deserted place startled the young man as he tried to catch his breath, and he fell to the ground as he turned to look up. What he saw was a balding old man. Around the crown of his head along the back and sides grew long white hair, and he had a beard that trailed midway down his chest. His wrinkly face was twisted up in a huge grin, and the young man could see a couple teeth on an otherwise toothless gum line.

The old man made his way down the rock wall of the crater edge to meet the young man on the ground. He moved nimbly for his advanced age to the surprise of the young man. He was also naked. For the first time the young man looked down and realized that he too was naked, and he realized that he felt no shame. He also didn’t feel compelled to turn away from the old man’s nakedness. For some reason this felt odd to him, but he didn’t understand why.

“Good day to you, son,” the old man said as he landed on the ground, “how ye be?”

“I don’t know,” the young man replied as he stood back up, “I don’t know who or where I am.”

“Does it matter?”

“I think so… I guess I don’t know.”

“Well, then maybe it don’t matter all that much. I believe what I say and I say what I believe and I believe you are who you think you are and that’s all that matters.”

“I don’t know what to think though.”

“Think whatever you want to think, man, this is a free world! No one ought to tell you what to think or who you are, you should just be.”

“Be what? What’s your name old man?”

“Name? What’s in a name, my good man? I am who I say that I am and that’s all that I am unless you want to tell me different.”

“But I want to know my name! Maybe it’ll help me understand who I am.”

“I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.”

“What does that mean? I feel as though I’ve heard that before.”

“As well you should have.”

“Why should I have heard it before?”

“You tell me.”

“If I knew I would have already told you! Are you mad?”

“I don’t feel mad, do you think me mad?”

“I believe I do.” The young man was beginning to feel the pulse of a headache. He didn’t understand the riddles this man spoke in and he was beginning to feel wary of his company. As no one else was around, though, he didn’t beg him off. “How long have you been here?” the young man asked looking up the rock and sand face of the crater edge.

“Either a moment or an eternity, one can never tell in a place such as this.”

Passageways & Portals: Rebirth, Part 1

He opens his eyes.

            The bright sky of the foreign world surrounding him momentarily blinds him as he tries to wake up from his haze. The ground beneath him is hard and dusty. The world spins around as he shuts his eyes tightly until he finds his bearings. His eyes adjust to the daylight around him and his equilibrium evens out after his case of vertigo.

            He realizes that he’s lying on his side in the fetal position. A spasm runs through his lungs and he begins to cough; a whooping cough, signaling his return to the world of oxygen, that forces him onto his back. As the spasms subside, he looks at the sky.

            No clouds dot the sky. No sun shines. Yet the sky is bright and blue. He does not notice the lack of celestial beings, though; he just basks in the realization that it appears to be a beautiful day. He sits up and looks at the world around him. Nothing but desert surrounds him. He’s surprised at the coolness of the air caressing his skin.

            As he looks around, he realizes that he’s in something of a desert valley, rocks jut up to the sky in every which way he turns to look. The more he observes, though, he realizes he’s in the midst of a crater. In the very center of it. Looking this way and that he sees that in every direction the wall of dirt, sand, and boulders that surrounds him is evenly spaced from him in all directions. Directly to his left he sees a mountain climbing up into the sky. Where it ends he doesn’t know for it climbs beyond the sight of his eyes. The length, width, and circumference of the crater surrounding him escape his perception. At this moment, he’s curious as to how he came to be here.

            He stands up and looks around him. How does one come to be in a place like this? he asks himself. He tries to think of how he got there. Then he tries to think of how he could have gotten anywhere. Where was he before this? Where was he before that? Who was he?

            The questions swirl around in his mind and make him dizzy. He plops back down on the dusty ground. He looks to the sky. How can I be if I feel like I am not? he asks himself. He can’t even remember his name. While his name might not clue him in to who he is he feels that a little more knowledge into his past might.

            Maybe it’s just a temporary lapse of memory, he thinks to himself. Perhaps if I just go for a little walk I’ll begin to remember. He stands up and begins to walk aimlessly toward the edge of the crater. He strains to remember something of where he came from and how he came to be here.

            Eventually his mind forgets what he’s trying to remember and turns to the beautiful weather and what a great day it appears to be for a stroll. He looks up into the sky and notices the lack of clouds, but feels there’s still something else missing. His eyes turn to the edge of the crater and he questions what’s out there beyond it. Could he possibly scale the steep grade and make his way out of the crater?

He begins to think that his situation may be more dire than he had imagined at first. What if he can’t make it out of the crater? Would someone eventually find him there? He realizes just how much he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know when he is. He doesn’t know who he is. If someone doesn’t find him, or if he can’t crawl out of the crater, then he could die there of hunger or thirst. What would happen to him at night? He doesn’t know how the weather is at night, maybe it will become so cold at night that exposure will kill him. He doesn’t know where but he recalls something about how desert areas become extremely cold at night, and this does seem to be a desert like place.

            He begins to pick up his pace with each question until he finds himself sprinting for the edge of the crater. No thought is given to the physical exertion it causes him, nor does he think about the length of time it takes him to get to the end of the crater.

            When he reaches the edge of the crater he collapses against a boulder while he tries to catch his breath. His mouth feels parched and he realizes that he’s going to need water soon. He curses himself for his overexertion. After all, he still needs to scale the wall of the crater to get out. A pang of hunger hits him and a slight panic washes over him. He tries to calm himself. He knows he’ll never make it out of there if he begins to panic.

            At first he didn’t even notice the old man sitting on the boulder just above the spot where he rested.

The Story Behind "Empty"

“Empty” was another song I wrote in the metal band with the local Green Bay DJ. I was a little more proud of my lyrics for this one than I was for “Rest in Peace”. As evidenced by this song and “Love Knife” I liked playing with the verse bleeding into the chorus, although this played with it a little more. Like “Love Knife” this song didn’t repeat the words of the chorus even though it might have retained the musical pattern of verse-chorus-verse-chorus. This also marks the first time I opted to curse in my lyrics. I don’t recall why, it just fit the way I felt at the time of writing the song. Unfortunately, at this point, I don’t recall what occurred at the time to inspire the content of this song; although, I’m sure it was a mix of the rise of reality TV and watching lots of The Soup to remind me of the popularity of mindless empty entertainment.

Empty

Empty appeals to no one.

Life is much harder

from the inside, you know

death creeps in

only in your mind

so just find your way

home and leave me alone.

I don’t need your therapy,

just place your blame

where you think it ought to be.

I can’t take much more

of your psychobabble bullshit.

Heave your stones at your parents,

not the audience, just let go.

Beauty pageants

are crowning the dead;

making insecure

the confident.

How can this practice

not offend?

Just make your way

home and leave me alone

I don’t need your scrutiny.

Hollywood has taken the best of me

I can’t take much more

of your mindless celebrity.

Stick thin models with no personality.

Just let go.

The Story Behind "Rest in Peace"

After things kind of fell apart with my writing partner from the song “Drifter” (nothing happened, the project just kind of ended), a DJ from a local hard rock/metal station reached out to me to sing lead vocals in a band he was working on. He told me that he didn’t really care much for Social Fallout’s music as he found it to be derivative, but he thoroughly enjoyed my vocals.

It took me awhile to decide to join the band. After a few years in a metal band I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue on that route. I opted to give it another try, and I kind of enjoyed it for a little bit. It was a good group of guys, very talented and a lot of fun to hang out with. Part of me wishes I would have stuck with it, but I ended up leaving the band after a few months. For one thing, they were very progressive and my style had always been very straight forward. Coming up with melodies and profound lyrics to fit those melodies became increasingly difficult.

“Rest in Peace” was one of those situations. I did actually enjoyed how it sounded, although I wish I would have come up with a better title. I also wish I had come up with better lyrics. I think my toiling over lyrical content is what broke the camel’s back with this particular band. There are a couple lines I still enjoy; however, I feel the lyrics were a little too familiar overall. When I felt I couldn’t serve the band properly, I opted to drop out of the project.

Rest in Peace

Zombies trod

where angels once stood

as light fades away

in the dawn of the day

feeding on minds

to dumb down the flock

and soon we’ll all

be ready to fall

I see

the end is coming

Our innocence

fading away

Why can’t we

just think on our own

walking the line

our way

Break down all the walls

Influence is dead

Zombies walk the streets

Now the hammer falls

Trample the leaves

where flowers once stood

Intelligence dies

in the hands of consumers

The box in the room

has replaced our brain

Leaving remains

of the human within

Now our minds

are all lost

at the click

of a simple button

How did this happen

when we should answer to none

Free thinking is dead

when you can pay a dime

to be spoon-fed your thoughts

Sleep, rest in peace

in the mire you made for yourself

Rest in the thoughts

they gave you on your deathbed

Die in the thought

that you’ll never be free again

See in the end

your life is all just a lie

Is this what you wanted?

Is this what you believe?

Is there something inside you

that makes you deceived?

The Story Behind "Drifter"

After I left Social Fallout I started getting together with a guitarist friend of mine to work on an idea for a new band. Unfortunately it didn’t work out as planned, but this was one of the concepts that we had started working on.

At the time, I was obsessed with the concept of the rock opera. I had been listening to The Who’s Quadrophenia and Tommy as well as Green Day’s American Idiot on repeat and I wanted to do something of that nature. The concept that I was working out in my head had to do with the story of a drifter traveling from town to town on the back of trains. The main story had to do with this drifter caught up in, and accused of, a murder that was being investigated. The themes would have dealt with issues of perception versus reality.

This song would have been one of the opening pieces of that rock opera. I wanted to start off with an overture of sorts, a strictly musical piece with no vocals, and follow that with this song that gives a little background to the story. I don’t have music to post for this since we never got around to recording it, but the style for this song was more grunge inflected like Pearl Jam circa Ten. I wanted to play with various styles to fit the mood of the themes present in the various songs, and would have tried to take inspiration from the various forms of 90’s alternative rock.

Because this was envisioned for a specific project with the specific writing partner that I’m in very limited contact with, I don’t foresee returning to this original project. Since I feel that this story was specifically tailored to the rock opera format, I also don’t foresee returning to it in a short story or novel format. As time passes, though, I could consider an epic poem-like format to preserve some since of what I was originally going for.

Drifter

And she sleeps the day away

Into another uneventful day

And she knows there’s no going back

To find what it is she lacks

So she sits and she just waits

For a man to come back she prays

She knows the lack of news

Is her only sign of proof

That she’ll never see what this life could be

And the tie that binds is broken by her mind

Broken down by truth

She looks for something new

In a drifter far away

In some forsaken place

She sleeps but never dreams

And hopes for some kind of peace

No matter how she tries

She’ll never ease her mind.

But she’ll never see what this life could be

And the tie that binds is broken with the time

The Story Behind "Bryson Forrestor"

“Bryson Forrestor” is the revision of the prologue for The Black Ring. I sent the original draft of the story to a childhood friend who is an English professor at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington and her responses largely influenced my direction in the second draft. The main idea I wanted to focus on for this draft was to play with time, so there’s the main arc that takes place in the stories “present” and then we flash back to what led Bryson to the present. This also allowed me to start with a more concrete scene, rather than the initial moving street scene the prologue started with. Since I’m not sure about whether I’m going to finish The Black Ring, I’m using this as a short story. As of right now I’m sure I’m not done with drafts for this piece.