The Great Witz

KA-CHNK

whirrrrrr-whirrr-whirrrrrr

The refrigerator kicked into gear and woke me up. I was sweating, I didn't know why I was sweating. My clammy hands fumbled at the sheets and my cheek hit a patch of slime as my face slid across a patch of leftover drool. I walked over to the light switch and flicked it on. My eyes squeezed themselves tight against the sudden glare. My head started to pound, matching cadence with the fridge.

Soon enough my eyes adjusted and I took a look around. Nothing out of the ordinary, my shitty one-room apartment was crammed full of piles of clothes, a dinky TV on top of that damn mini-fridge, a mattress on the ground, and a smattering of trinkets splayed across the ground. I wiped the last of the slime from my face and sat back down on my bed. The sweat had dried and I felt sticky, but not sticky enough to go down the hall and shower at - what time was it? ah - 3 in the fucking morning. Not knowing what else to do, I switched off the lights and popped on the television and turned on the DVD player, hoping something good was in.

I leaned back into a mess of pillows and blankets, feeling the fabric stick to my clammy self. I closed my eyes and tried to get to sleep again, but the lights made it difficult to get in the mood. After rolling around for a while I decided to get up and switch them off, immediately feeling a little more relaxed in the darkness. The TV still flickered and a splash of light was strewn out over the room, a bit of undulating light to match the hum and throb of that goddamn fucking mini-fridge that never shut up. For a moment I even considered unplugging it, but I was fairly positive I'd wind up with some sour milk in the morning, so instead I grabbed the remote and upped the volume on the tube. The clicker came out of my grasp wet with sweat. My entire body was still sticky, my underarms still damp. What had been going on, I wondered, had I been dreaming again? They said I wouldn't be able to dream anymore, but maybe they meant I just wouldn't remember them.

I shrugged it off and rolled over again, buried my face in a pillow, and tried forcing myself into sleep. The noise of the fridge had successfully been drowned out by the television, but the lights were too damn bright. Even with my eyes in the pillow it seemed like daylight. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and accepted I was never going to get back to sleep.

I walked to the far end of my room, to where the fridge and TV sat next to a window. Looking out, I could see a bit of city. Some lights speckled the sky, I knew they were satellites but I hoped they were stars. It was a pretty big drop down to the sidewalk, a whole 8 stories. I like to throw gummy bears at the pedestrians during the day. Nobody gets mad when they realize the culprit was candy. Right now there wasn't a soul walking beneath my window, just some pieces of litter being blown around by the wind. I sighed and turned back to my room, finding my way by the sole light of the aged TV.

As I settled into my bed one more time I heard a slight giggle.

"Hey there, how are ya? Haven't heard from you in a while."

The giggling just continued, completely disregarding me. It wasn't new or anything, he (at least I'm pretty sure he was a him) used to show up before I started eating bits of batteries. He wasn't mean, he just smiled and showed me when it was time to laugh at myself. It was a bit surprising to see him right now, I had been good about my medicine. I had been good about therapy. I guess I must be really fucking hilarious right now.

I got up to switch the lights off, and noticed where the giggling was coming from. He was perched right on top of the TV, no body worth mentioning and a smile with lips that cracked and bled every time he started to laugh.

"OK, I get it. I'm having a weird night. Haha, hilarious."

He straight up guffawed at that. I shook my head and flipped the switch, observing as he was swallowed into darkness. The fridge revved up again, now mingling with the television and laughter. The rush of white noise was almost intoxicating. I jolted straight up and became dizzy, then tried to regain some balance. I lunged at the window to catch some fresh air, but stumbled into the fridge and knocked the TV off. The sound cut through my ears as the clatter of smashing glass reacted with the sudden silence from the movie. The room suddenly rang with laughter, and I whirled around. I couldn't see anything without the light of the TV. His laughter was the only thing guiding me, but it was echoing off of my walls. I had to stop that fucker, it wasn't funny anymore, I don't like being laughed at.

I stretched out my arms in an attempt to catch him, but wound up tripping and slamming my head into the door. Satellites sprang into my eyes and the laughter intensified.

"Fuck you!"

I screamed and ran across the room, this time my head making contact with my window. The falling glass hit my neck and I could feel blood form almost immediately. It trickled down as another sound entered the fray, a sudden and rapid knock.

"What's wrong? We heard crashes."

I turned to the door and screamed

"Stop fucking laughing at me! Stop it!"

The door burst open and two shadows grabbed me, a needle appearing out of nowhere. I smeared my blood on the shadows and kept screaming, eventually making myself slippery enough to escape. I bolted away from them and followed the incessant laughter. I jumped at it, then heard the laughter fade behind me as I fell towards the sidewalk.

I'm going to try and write one story each week. They won't all be good, but they won't all be bad, and they'll be damn short. Here is number one:

A long, long time ago, in a place not very far from here, there lived a boy. and there lived a girl. and they were in love. They lived in their own paradise, a place where they had grown up together and spent night after night running beneath the stars. When they were finally of age, they rushed to the altar and married with the widest smiles they had ever smiled. It only took a year before her belly began to swell and baby books appeared on their shelves. The boy worked hard every day in hopes of being able to give his child a better future. When he wasn't out at work, he was in at work, preparing a room with fresh paint and building cribs and mobiles. The girl kept herself busy with excersises and small adjustments to the house. She invited her friends over for tea and sat in the living room, chatting excitedly about all the possibilities. She wanted a little girl, named Taea, with bright red hair and a brain that wouldn't quit.

The boy came home from work in a rush one day. His boss had given him a promotion, exactly what he needed to make his girl and his child comfy. He was so excited, he slammed the door open and screamed "honey, I'm hooooooome!" He hadn't noticed his girl on the floor, leaning up against the couch and sobbing into her hand. He rushed to her and knelt beside her, his knee making a soft squish as it hit wet carpet. He looked down and saw red flowing from his wife out onto the carpet. His eyes welled up and he grabbed her tightly, his crying as silent as hers was loud.

The doctor said that it was a simple miscarriage, nothing too out of the ordinary. She thought to herself, "not out of the ordinary? I... I can't do it. Doesn't that count for something?" He thought to himself, "I was so ready. I was so excited. But was I really ok to start someone's life?" They headed back home, silent the entire way. When they arrived the boy began to take down the baby decorations. It was a slow process, taking the child-safe locks off of cabinets, peeling decals off the walls, but he stopped at what was going to be the baby's room. He stared. He couldn't do it. So he closed the door and walked out of the house.

It had been three months since she had heard from her husband. She spent her time either in bed or going out to get groceries. The television was constantly on, the lights constantly off. The bags under her eyes looked haggard in the pale flickering light of late night television shows. One night a knock came from the door, then it creaked open. She didn't move, just sat and watched the pretty lights. A pair of strong arms rested on her shoulders and a furry beard stroked her cheek as the boy leaned down and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." she woke up the next morning beside her husband. She smiled. Not because she wanted to, but because it was what she was supposed to do. She hated him. She hated the fucker that abandoned her and left her to stew in silence. She hated the fucker that made it feel like she was alone. She hated the fucker because it was her fault, and she knew it hurt him, and she felt guilty. He didn't blame her. He knew it was just chance. It was hard to look at her though, her face a combination of everything he hoped for and everything he feared. He could barely even touch her, his fingers brushed against her skin and it felt like fire. She was his pain, his lovely, lovely pain.

She needed to feel that pain. So she started to cut herself. The boy never touched her anymore, he wouldn't see the scars. It felt too good, some pain that wasn't all in her head. It cleared her mind and made her feel refreshed for a few minutes. After just a couple weeks she was ready to go outside again. She put on a sundress and stepped into the sunlight. She got downtown when she noticed people staring at her. She couldn't figure it out, her face got red and she looked down at herself, looking for something wrong. Then she noticed a trail of blood at her feet. The cuts on her legs had opened up as she walked, and now blood was flowing down her legs. It was startling, looked too much like- in a daze she stumbled on, trying to find a place to sit down. She spotted a bench across the street and stepped towards it. She had become woozy, though, and she fell forward, putting her body right beneath a rushing bus.

The boy didn't really do anything anymore. He didn't even know what to do. He had smashed the TV, he had quit his job, he didn't really even eat anymore. He would wake up late, go sit on the couch, then go back to bed. But one day he picked up the phone and made a call.

Two weeks later he walked into a tall, skinny brick building. The lobby was plastered with eggshell paint and a couple chairs scattered the back wall. To the right was a wooden desk and behind that desk was a squat lady with cateye glasses and laboured breathing. "Hello" muttered the boy, "oh hello there! You're the fellow who called a couple weeks ago, yes?" he nodded. "Well great! we've just got to get some paperwork out of the way, then you'll be good to go!" With that she smiled wide and hurriedly waddled out of the room. The boy stood there, his legs softly shaking in anticipation.

He stepped out of the building, a package in his arms. He called a cab and crammed inside. As the driver rushed away from the building, he peeled the soft blanket from the face of his new family, revealing frail red hair and a toothless grin. "Hello Taea, so glad to meet you."