HYPERSPACE [a literary depiction of suicide compulsion]


NOTE: In this novel the symbol < precedes a character’s thought, and a superscripts zero (0) follows that thought.

(To view an unabridged version of A Day in the Asylum: A Day on Planet Earth, scroll to the end of the blogsite page and click Older Entries, and then scroll to that title.)


An escape from hell . . .


Meeting 1

Experiencing and visualizing simultaneously the cool, soft darkness surrounding him, engulfing him, while, from his reclining position with his head on pillow in slight elevation, staring into the night sky, bright sparks are titillating Jason with their shining and winking.

<not like out west0  “Too much big city light.”

Discerning multifarious twinkling tints amidst the sparse city view, his gaze is constantly focusing on a scintillating dot of bluish hue somewhat elevated above various fairly low residential structures. <my Love, my Friend, my Goodness0    Feeling a pang, breathing deeply, sighing, from across the void he is continuing viewing the bright bluish dot.

Grasping the tie knot hugging his neck, with his left hand pulling it down, he is opening his top collar button. “Thank god,” he is breathing while rubbing his neck, feeling the air refreshing the recently imprisoned skin.  Supine, fully dressed, but for the absence of his shoes, feet hanging just over the bed’s edge, he is continuing looking at the bright point of blue blinking through his window.

<what a night0     “What a goddamn night!”

Unable to control the flood of images cramming his mind–women, men, blasting music, alcohol, food, the boss, Pat . . .  <why was i there0    He is watching the people, with few exceptions informally dressed, and the big boss from Houston in his dark suit.    <look at him with his cigar . . . young middle age . . . usually taciturn0     Whisperingly, under his breath:  “Look at him now slapping backs and offering witticisms.  A goddamn boss act!”  Watching his emphatically waving hand making a point to one of the salesmen, a thin stream of white smoke curling upwards into the air from the thick cigar he is holding between the fingers of the motionless hand held at his waist . . .  <was there ever before such a wide smile on that brooding black beard0

Standing in a far corner, his bright blondness distinguishing him and his self-imposed distance removing him from undesired attention, Jason is observing and mentally commenting to himself concerning surrounding occurrences, as constant feelings that he should not be there are impinging.    <is it the smoke . . . i hate smoke . . .  never touched the stuff . . . ya’ remember former heavy smoker at other job . . . guy was a music lover so we’d talk a lot . . .  was up to three packs a day in the navy he’d said0 Watching the boss speaking to several salespeople–holding his cigar, oblivious to the emanating pollution–Jason is recalling his navy friend’s comment at the other job: <i had to quit . . . i couldn’t breathe air anymore, never mind     smoke . . .0    Continuing observing the scene before him as his navy friend’s voice is trailing off into his memory’s recesses . . .  <no . . . it’s not the smoke . . . just adds to it . . .0    “Why are you all alone Jason?  Why don’t you have some fun?” a light, pleasant female voice, breaking into his thoughts, is asking.  Turning left slightly, viewing a blonde, pink female form in blue standing before him . . .  <so close . . . i can touch her0    Beyond her, in small groups throughout the rectangular room, he is observing people milling about. <what can i say0    “Are you looking off into the mysterious foggy future?” her soft pleasant voice is playfully asking.

“No!  Actually, I’m looking at the big boss’ odoriferous mechanism of atmospheric toxicity.”  She is breaking into a gay irrepressible laugh, he smiling.  “You do have a way with words, Jason, don’t you?”  Continuing smiling, her womanly appearance is confronting him with her long bright blonde hair descending, strands resting on her ninety-nine percent bare shoulders, large waves streaming in a flow behind her . . .  <picks up i’m different–but respects me . . .0  . . . he viewing in her incomparable hazel eyes laughter-born moisture, a penetrating visceral warmth suddenly overwhelming him.  Beaming in his eyes is the lush shining brightness of her astonishing blonde hair warmly blending with her radiant light pinkness, her perfectly womanly shape being revealed in a manner more evocative for its subtlety than for any pretentious flamboyance; in her simple light blue dress, somewhat loose so that it is flowing with her motion or, were it present, with a breeze, but far from billowing; with its two parallel rows of sewed blue and pink flowers running crosswise in waves, the lower row dancing just above the petite fullness of her braless breasts, the upper row flowing across the fabric’s edge, at various points petals or leaves virtually kissing her radiant skin; all being lifted by two thread-thin shoulder strings of blue.  Viewing the mostly pink flowers above her girlish  breast–the several of a turquoise hue barely contrasting with the ocean of fabric from which they grow, the lucent calyces of light green allowing her pinkness to filter through–his eyes, wandering slightly down, are not failing to note, to the left and to the right, protruding nipple points clearly defining the fabric.  Nor are they failing to consider, as they are wandering farther downward, the hemline of her dress falling halfway only to her perfectly formed feminine thighs, her shapely legs descending further in his view.  “Why don’t we leave here Jason?  Come over to my place where we can talk without all this horrendous racket.”  Ossifying the pleasant warmth currently infusing Jason is a sudden chill.  “Where do you live?” his voice sounding distant to him.

“Oh, not far.  In the neighborhood . . . a few blocks, actually.”

“Ok,” while feeling deeply penetrating knife stabs, his intellectual assessment that he is committing an extremely serious error dominating his thinking even while flashing through his mind is an image of office laughter that he is refusing such an offer, with ensuing questions amongst personnel as to what exactly is wrong with Jason.  “C’mon!” Pat is saying, while with unexpected suddeness she is reaching out grabbing his left hand in her right; he, perceiving a flashing in her eyes, internally freezing. <act0    His viscera in turmoil he is feeling her small hand holding his, his vision centering on her perfectly proportioned slim girl’s shape as she is beginning walking, he trailing slightly behind, a tiny hand-chain of two blond links wending its way through pockets of people standing or moving about in the center of the large room.  Seeing Tony and Jill in the periphery of his vision to his left, each holding a drink, they waving to him; Jason, turning slightly, mechanically raising his free hand, waving in response . . .  <swimming in anticipation another would be . . . are those surprised looks? . . . especially tony the macho-man? . . .0   <. . . are they looking and wondering0    Approaching the wide passageway preceding the apartment’s entrance, Pat, releasing Jason’s hand, is walking to the coat rack against the wall on the left, he watching her slim girlish form, bare arm reaching, small hand of short-cut clear polished nails closing upon a light blue jacket.  As, swirling her jacket around over her shoulders, he is viewing her petit breasts quivering with motion beneath their covering, instantaneously an internal electrical bolt is slamming him, dissipating all mental meanderings.  Turning towards him, smiling, her hazel eyes gleaming in his direction . . .   “Ready?”  . . . her soft friendly tone sounding in his ears seemingly implying much more than mere readiness to leave . . .  “Yup!”   <why me . . . unbelievable0    . . . he is feeling the entire room’s eyes burning into the back of his  neck while she, opening the door, is exiting, he following her into the hallway.  In the hallway he is continuing following her, passing the elevator, the stairway approaching in his sight, now walking down behind her, the minuscule up and down movement of her golden hair (shining in his eyes) duplicating the rhythm of her step-by-step descent, a hypnotic effect transfixing his gaze, his mind, his viscera.  Following in a trance a path being set for him which he has no desire to follow is concerning him on another level of mind while feeling a claw digging into and tightening around his intestines, he placing one foot, then the other, on consecutive steps in what is seeming to him an unending descent of one flight; reaching the mid-landing with a huge square window, top section being swung slightly open jutting into the night, then the ground floor.  Seeing her ahead of him, small hand tightening around the flat steel bar running horizontally across the aluminum framed glass entranceway door, pushing it open, walking into the night, he is following, grabbing the bar and pushing, wondering at her not waiting for him . . .  <inconsiderate?0   . . .  stepping outside, watching her turning around, she smiling at him with a brightness matching her golden persona.  “Come on,” she is saying, feigning a whine.  “You don’t want to be up all night, do you?”  Instantaneously transmitting through his neuronal wiring is a powerful electrical shock stunning him into a frozen, almost paralyzed state by his sudden and full awareness of the current situation into which he is stepping, as if into an escape-proof trap, he hating himself for his stupidity, gulping reflexively, the intestinal claw tightening around his viscera.  Walking up to her, the tight claw relentlessly clenching within, they are descending down several concrete steps to the sidewalk.  Turning left, continuing half a block to the corner, turning left again, beginning walking down a semi-lit street, a phalanx of evenly spaced oaks lining the curb paralleling their direction, Jason is feeling a light cool breeze slicing through his blazer cutting his flesh as he is viewing someone speedily approaching through the darkness, drawing near, breaking into the narrow parameter of his sight.  Watching him slithering by like a shadow, seeing the shadow slowing its pace, observing it taking notice of them while continuing walking in their direction, viewing its presence adjacent to Pat, the shadow-become-substance is sweeping his eyes up and down her form whistling and, looking at Jason for less than a second, picking up his speed.  “Lucky bastard,” are words ebbing into the darkening evening’s silence as Pat’s right hand is enclosing around Jason’s left.  “C’mon luv.  It ain’t gettin’ early!”   <how happy i should be0    As they are walking down the next block, feeling her small hand in his . . .     <what should i be feeling now0    . . . he is groping for an answer, feeling her girl’s flesh in his while turning left at the block’s corner.  Walking past two three-family houses, turning into the entrance of the third, he is anticipating that she will lead him up the front stairway.  Wheeling into a narrow side path of polished stone they are standing before a side entrance, he feeling her hand loosening its grip, pulling away, he watching for several seconds as she is groping in her hand bag until, the hand rising with a ring of keys, she pushes one of them into the lock hole.  “Jason, look!”  indicating with her chin that the lock should be the object of his attention, he watching her pulling the key partially out, pushing it in, pulling it out, pushing it in with quick jerking motions.  Looking up at him with a broad smile . . .   “See how easy it is?” she is rhetorically questioning, while in a second gagging is constricting his throat.  With the door swinging open and the lights switching on at the behest of Pat’s hand waving over a switch, Jason is dumbly following her into the house.

Meeting 2

Together again are he and his Friend for Eternity.  “When did we first meet, my Love?” his child’s voice is querying in his memory.  <it was before we moved  . . . before we lived near the ocean0    “We lived inland, then, my Love.  I remember perfectly!  It was flatland with hills and mountains towards the horizon.”  <one peak standing alone, close to the Edge0    “It was when I brought a report-card home with an F.  It was like this, my Loving Friend . . . I told Ma ‘I got an F in math.’  ‘Pa is not gonna like that,’ she said.  ‘As a matter of fact,’ she said, ‘I don’t like that!  Get to your room!  Pa will go up there when he gets home.’  Yes my Loving Friend!  That’s how our Meeting started!”  Chirping in a high pitched child’s sound, Jason is continuing.  “You know, I once heard someone say . . . was it a teacher or a minister? . . . I don’t remember . . . I once heard him say that sometimes good things come from bad but when the bad is happening you don’t know it will be the cause of the good!  So when Pa came up later I didn’t know good would follow.  I remember!  ‘What’s this about you getting an F, huh?’ he said.  He sounded like Pa sounds when he’s real mean.  Honest, I don’t remember what I said back!  Then Pa whupped me!  He grabbed me by my shirt and pants and pulled me off the bed, threw me back down real hard so my behind faced up and then he whupped me as hard as I’ve ever been whupped!  He used the flat of his hand, alright, but Pa is strong!  I couldn’t sit down for a long time without hurtin’.  And I cried . . . I wanna cry now, my Loving Friend, just thinking about it.  But you’re here and I feel your goodness and I know I’m safe.  Anyway, I remember laying in bed on my stomach after my whupping.  It seemed like a real long time, my laying there.  I didn’t cry too much, you know.  For some reason I just stopped.  And I felt a strange feeling in me . . . I don’t know what.”  Continuing staring out his window . . .  “Then,  my Friend for Eternity, I realized it was getting darker.  I could never explain what made me get up from bed, hurtin’ the way I was.  But now I know.  You made me get up!  You did, Loving Friend!  ’Cause you wanted me to leave there, wanted me to . . .”  Hearing his father’s booming voice along with his mother’s shrieks he is continuing staring at the twinkling blue spark of light.  “I was feeling a really awful aching in my behind, you know.  But I still got up and walked!  Why would I do that?  Why would I want to?  It was you my Love!  It was you calling me to you!”  He is remembering wincing in pain, slowly and quietly opening his bedroom door, walking out into the hall, quietly closing the door, walking carefully down the stairs, not wishing his parents to see him, reaching the bottom, walking straight to the front door feeling fire burning his lower behind from his father’s beating and the back of his neck from his imagining his parents’ stares who may be in the kitchen or livingroom behind him.  Opening the door, stepping into the cool end-of-winter air, he is walking out into the flatland, feeling the trodding-on of stones and old plant life carcasses.   Silence is infiltrating the child’s memory.  <ma just crying0    “Can’t be sure . . . maybe . . .”  <how long ago was our Meeting . . . we moved here when?0    “About a year ago, I think.”  <july . . .  like now0  “And I met you about six or so months before that . . . February or March.”     He is watching himself standing in the flatland far enough away from their house of a year and a half ago for it to hardly be visible.  “That’s when I turned away from the house and began walking towards the mountain on the Edge.  That was when I drew near to our Meeting, my Love for Eternity.  I remember my aching during the long walk to the mountain.  It was you who drew me there!  Why else would I walk so far even though I was hurting so much?”  Cloying his memory’s vision, colors are emblazoning land and peak.  Gazing at the skyward jutting jagged-edged triangle, he is viewing a mass of rock with sides of unequal height drenched in yellow sunset orange, the waning glow thinning into the sky, melding with evening blue.  Raising his eyes into the blue, thinking of outer space and of far away worlds . . .   “I was thinking, my Love, of how much better things must be out there than they are here.  It wasn’t an accident that we met!  You guided me and knew my thoughts because it was then, while looking up and thinking of these things, that we met!  For it was then that I saw your Eternal Light glimmering in my eye!  First there was the darkness of the evening sky, then there was me thinking of how things had to be better up there on other worlds, and then there you were winking at me with your dear dear blueness, like a clear and bright blue diamond. That was our first Meeting my Love, my Friend, my Goodness!  That was your calling of me to you!”  <what feeling now? . . .  highness . . .0    Whispering with excitement,  “. . .  joy . . . goodness, beauty, love, caring . . .”  Continuing staring at the tiny pauselessly winking blue dot amidst the increased number of blinking dots now suspended in a darkening abyss he is aware of silence. 

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2 Responses to “HYPERSPACE [a literary depiction of suicide compulsion]”

  1. Daniel Fuller Says:

    Dude, this is so freaking surreal. I love it! Bookmarked and will definitely read more.


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