Episode 1 – The
Sickness
It was always that feeling that made him think that he was both drunk
and keenly alert. A hypersensitivity to everything around him, yet
his limbs felt like flailing, boneless appendages. It usually struck
at night and it was here again. Dan had taken to going for a short
walk whenever the sickness came on him. He was making his way –
slowly – down West Burnside. It was now a ritual. He passed by
the same unnamed bar he always did, a mouldering building with
filthy, blacked-out windows. The door suddenly swung open letting the
wild laughter of the crowd escape. They were packed in every crevice
like lice. He ambled across the street to escape the noise. Dan
caught the scent of strong, dank smoke and alcohol and a mind-bending
Tom Waits song blared from a radio somewhere inside. He was again
being transported into that realm of mental distortion. Everything
was real and not real. He leaned against a building to keep from
falling over, to catch himself. Footsteps and cars rumbling over the
street sounded like crashing drums. He felt disconnected from his
body in that delightfully frightening feeling of flying forward with
nothing to stop him. Just stop, please just stop. Oh, when will the
black-out happen again? He lurched his way, painfully, towards the
waterfront. The black waters of the river cast rippling images of the
city lights from its surface. He heard the slapping of waves against
the river wall below.
“Oh.” He mumbled. He heard footfalls behind him. Slowly
Dan turned. There were five men staring down at him. One of them,
standing in front, was wearing a bright red rag tied around his head.
“What do you want?” Dan couldn't keep his tongue straight
and the words came out slurred. None of the men answered him. Even in
the dark and with his compromised vision their eyes looked like
boundless black holes sitting in their heads.
“Think anybody'll miss this one?” Murmured one of them.
“Nah. Throw him over.”
“What. . .what do you want from me? Please!” Dan said.
Electric sparks of fear, which translated as pain radiated through
his body. They surrounded him. He staggered trying to break through
the circle. Unfortunately, his plea sounded more like a whimper. He
staggered through managing to push one of them away.
“Nothing man. Nothing.” Said Red-Rag, grinning. “Hey!
Where you goin'?” The others sniggered. They trailed him,
pushing him along, kicking at him.
“I don't have anything!”
“We don't want anything from you,” said one of them.
“Look, we got things to do. Finish it,” said Red-Rag. Dan
made an attempt to escape, half-leaping away. He started to run which
turned out to be more of a clumsy gallop. Except for himself and his
tormentors, the waterfront was empty. They all converged on him like
wolves on raw meat. He screamed and one of them began punching him
savagely until his screams died into the whimpers of a tortured
animal and he lost all sense. He felt the bones crack and break and
his body sprang alive with new pain. He then felt himself flying
through the air until he crashed into a wall of ice cold water.
. .
.
They dropped him on the ground and began punched and kicked him until
he lost all sense. Then they threw him over the wall into the river.
The freezing water filled every orifice; his nose, lungs, brain. His
body exploded with suffocating pain. And then, the pain faded. He was
falling and a kind of dreaminess overtook him as he drowned. Images
and memories he did not understand flooded his mind and then it
wasn't cold anymore. Beneath him he sensed there was light. Soft blue
light but he couldn't hold on any longer and everything went black.
Episode 2 – Red Shoes
He took the same path he always took, down the cruddy alleyway. The
air was ice-chilled and the long wisps of breath snaked around his
head he exhaled. A rich film of frost covered the grasses in the
backyards and the weeds that choked the pebbled ground.
Sickness
It was always that feeling that made him think that he was both drunk
and keenly alert. A hypersensitivity to everything around him, yet
his limbs felt like flailing, boneless appendages. It usually struck
at night and it was here again. Dan had taken to going for a short
walk whenever the sickness came on him. He was making his way –
slowly – down West Burnside. It was now a ritual. He passed by
the same unnamed bar he always did, a mouldering building with
filthy, blacked-out windows. The door suddenly swung open letting the
wild laughter of the crowd escape. They were packed in every crevice
like lice. He ambled across the street to escape the noise. Dan
caught the scent of strong, dank smoke and alcohol and a mind-bending
Tom Waits song blared from a radio somewhere inside. He was again
being transported into that realm of mental distortion. Everything
was real and not real. He leaned against a building to keep from
falling over, to catch himself. Footsteps and cars rumbling over the
street sounded like crashing drums. He felt disconnected from his
body in that delightfully frightening feeling of flying forward with
nothing to stop him. Just stop, please just stop. Oh, when will the
black-out happen again? He lurched his way, painfully, towards the
waterfront. The black waters of the river cast rippling images of the
city lights from its surface. He heard the slapping of waves against
the river wall below.
“Oh.” He mumbled. He heard footfalls behind him. Slowly
Dan turned. There were five men staring down at him. One of them,
standing in front, was wearing a bright red rag tied around his head.
“What do you want?” Dan couldn't keep his tongue straight
and the words came out slurred. None of the men answered him. Even in
the dark and with his compromised vision their eyes looked like
boundless black holes sitting in their heads.
“Think anybody'll miss this one?” Murmured one of them.
“Nah. Throw him over.”
“What. . .what do you want from me? Please!” Dan said.
Electric sparks of fear, which translated as pain radiated through
his body. They surrounded him. He staggered trying to break through
the circle. Unfortunately, his plea sounded more like a whimper. He
staggered through managing to push one of them away.
“Nothing man. Nothing.” Said Red-Rag, grinning. “Hey!
Where you goin'?” The others sniggered. They trailed him,
pushing him along, kicking at him.
“I don't have anything!”
“We don't want anything from you,” said one of them.
“Look, we got things to do. Finish it,” said Red-Rag. Dan
made an attempt to escape, half-leaping away. He started to run which
turned out to be more of a clumsy gallop. Except for himself and his
tormentors, the waterfront was empty. They all converged on him like
wolves on raw meat. He screamed and one of them began punching him
savagely until his screams died into the whimpers of a tortured
animal and he lost all sense. He felt the bones crack and break and
his body sprang alive with new pain. He then felt himself flying
through the air until he crashed into a wall of ice cold water.
. .
.
They dropped him on the ground and began punched and kicked him until
he lost all sense. Then they threw him over the wall into the river.
The freezing water filled every orifice; his nose, lungs, brain. His
body exploded with suffocating pain. And then, the pain faded. He was
falling and a kind of dreaminess overtook him as he drowned. Images
and memories he did not understand flooded his mind and then it
wasn't cold anymore. Beneath him he sensed there was light. Soft blue
light but he couldn't hold on any longer and everything went black.
Episode 2 – Red Shoes
He took the same path he always took, down the cruddy alleyway. The
air was ice-chilled and the long wisps of breath snaked around his
head he exhaled. A rich film of frost covered the grasses in the
backyards and the weeds that choked the pebbled ground.
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