the executionMature

not completely done with the first part but the story is a Stream of consciousness narrative through the lives of six different people and their interactions with society around them.

The road outside was black with the
dissent of the townspeople's Tuesday afternoon crawl from the
marketplace after the execution of one of the most enigmatic
criminals this town had ever seen; what was I doing of course?
Watching. I hadn't known a time in which all the people were happy,
most of them were perpetually unhappy and this resulted in the happy
ones to look as if they were mythical creatures, unicorns and dragons
and such. I for one was a moderate, I seemingly looked unhappy, but
periodically would espouse clear cut manic episodes of good giving,
and emotional support. The day wasn't what was important, what was
important was the execution. The man hadn't died, so I guess it
wasn't really an execution. The weirdest part was that I was rooting
for the chair to kill him., I don't know, something about the
twitching made me yearn to see him fried. Well I walk home, usually
around this time and it got me thinking, “what am I doing in this
place”. I still haven't found the answer.
“Jerry, wait up”,
Mark called to me.

“I need to get
home, I am not feeling as well as I was earlier in the day”, I
called back to him, although the distance was shorter as Mark was
running towards me.
“But we are supposed to be hanging out at
the park, today is the day of the fight between Bernard and Jimmy,
anticipation is at an all time high”.
This meant nothing to me,
yet I found myself drifting towards the effervescent crowd of peers
and schoolmates and even people that I had no recollection of ever
knowing or desiring to know for that matter. The fight lasted ten
minutes, in high school terms this was worthy of being the greatest
fight since the Robert and Donald fight. Personally I never
understood their fascination with using there fists instead of there
words, but there you go. All I cared about was leaving. Leaving was
always just out of reach, is just out of reach though, leaving me
isolated in this small town. Tomorrows a new day.
        
Disquietude reached a paramount level when I got called a faggot
today. Just once in my life I want to have a conversation about
something other then racist ideologies and spitfire hobgoblins and
dumb white trash skinheads. I guess some things are too much to ask
for. Until I met her. I imagined what it would be like to be with
her, everyday, everyday I wondered. Everyday I tried to wonder, my
eyes were placated onto hers, I found a screeching purpose to keep up
this facade of pseudo happiness to impress her just this once, maybe
give enough to get her to like me back. But all was in vain once
again, for she was already called for. I took a walk.
The streets
were crowded, too crowded for my taste. Salty air pressed against my
lips as the beach approached. I didn't think, I just kept
concentrated on the music that was playing in my ear.
“No depth
perception

Cyclops

No depth
perception

Cyclops

No depth
perception

Cyclops


No depth perception”
It gets so hard. The music that played in
my ears was on repeat, the best way to listen to an album in my
opinion. I was sad. The music soothed me, although it was unnaturally
sad to. I am a cyclops with two eyes. We are both always out of
place, yet when I walk around, I stumble.
“No depth perception

Cyclops

No depth
perception

Cyclops

No depth
perception

Cyclops

No depth
perception”
Even my music wasn't listened to anyone else. This
is the society I live in. The streets covered with all that I
disliked in my own life. It had a simplistic amount of people who
only did as they pleased in the streets, they talked. I walked. They
talked, I walked, they talked, I walked. It was an almost ruthless
cycle that only ended with me getting depressed. I might as well have
been that prisoner that was executed by public hanging. What does it
matter.
I found someone like me though. He talked, and nobody
listened. It didn't make me sad, because I think most people were
just frightened because of his demeanor.
“sir, you have a story
to tell”, the man said to me.
“everyone has a story to tell”,
I replied.
“I like you. You understand. What is the problem
though?”, he asked once again.
“There is a lot the problem, I
didn't know life is so difficult. Things that should seemingly fall
into place collapse in the grand scheme of things. I feel as if I
have nothing to hang on to. Not anymore.”I finished my sentence
with a long sigh.
“We have a lot more in common then you could
ever realize. I hope you know that. My Name is Cortland Macreedy, I
watch this city change and grow, it is ever so dynamic. Most people
don't realize the city breathes much like everyone else that walks
around. It is an organism just as we are. When the lights go out, who
will stand vigil to ensure its safety?” the man Cortland asked. I
had just begun to take in the truth behind his short sentence but I
had not yet realized that everything he said would effect me. So I
told him what I had been wanting to tell everybody, but when I wanted
to, I could not articulate the words. They seemed lucid though to
Cortland, as if he could read my thoughts.
“So it's lady
trouble”, he said chuckling.
That could be the root of it. But
that had never ever came to my mind. I was always sad, and because I
couldn't formulate a smile when I needed to, I just figured that it
was always me. My inner self, my thoughts expressed through body
language. My own temperious thoughts of anger and hate. Of self
loathing. I was in love, had been for god knows how long. But had I
really known all along and just not acted upon it? I wouldn't know.

“You never told me your name”, Cortland said politely. In all
honesty I forgot he was even there.
“Jeremiah. Jeremiah
Uthuze”, I said.
“You will eventually come to realize your
importance in this world. Lets hope you do before its too
late.”.Those were his parting words. I hadn't really paid attention
to them, although the more and more I thought about it I really knew
what he meant. I just didn't want to believe what he was saying. Did
I? Would I ever go that far? I didn't know, nor was I interested in
finding out at that given time. I decided that the best course of
action was to keep route and finish school. And on the way given the
opportunity I would take up on my emotions towards that girl. The
only girl that mattered.
          The day was bald, early in the
morning the day after my talks with Cortland. I still wanted it all
to end, god how my life was supposed to be better then this, I was
supposed to be doing so much better things with my life, yet I was
stuck in such a terrible place that could only be compared to
purgatory. I wanted out more then anyone else. I wished to unleash
the wings that bound me, that held me back and prevented me from
going anywhere but here. Just one of those days where all I hear is
my own thoughts. Checking the news for updates on worldly events, I
again realized I shouldn't be bothering. I got about 1 minute of news
for every 15 minutes of “look at this new restaurant that opened
up. It's getting good reviews”, and “This cheerleader from a
school approximately 6 miles away from you dislikes the new policy
implemented at school that prevents texting during school hours.” I
sighed and walked out. I was a man without a true purpose in this
hodunk town, and I had enough. My one purpose was being sad, what a
terrible existence, today I was going to see her, tell her how I
feel, tell her what she means to me, tell her everything I need to to
get this awful pain out of my chest. Maybe I can find enough courage
to say the things I need to say, maybe that will be my release.


         I walked right past Aveline today, without even saying
Hello.
I am done for. How can I keep this up, pains my stomach,
pains my soul, headache always, need a way to get rid of this pain.
Walks and Walks and Walks and walks and walks, that is all that is
keeping that one simple word from beating my brain.
“Aveline”

The
word sounded so sweet to the tongue, such a gitty joy I felt. Only
when I heard the sirens of horns coming from many cars did I snap out
of my daze. I will talk to her, someday soon.
          Cortland
Maccreedy will know what to say, I should go talk to him. The street
was not as fun as the last time I was over here, today it was boring,
seemingly boring, all dejection which prevented my lips from smiling.
Oh well, unimportant. I gave more for the conversation anyway.
Trolley rides, trolley rides, trolley rides, they all end in the same
damn place, the center apex of the cities lackluster skyscraping
buildings. What I would give to be away in the countryside. Such is
high school life. When I finally ran into Cortland, I was out of
breath.
“I.Have.Been.Looking.For.You.”, my words sounded
convoluted as there was barely enough pause to register what I was
saying.
“Jeremiah, how goes this good day for you, I have
subjugated myself to listen to the christian zealots spew the words
from the almighty one all day, they say I am a satan's man, yet I
feel pretty normal myself”, Cortland wandered off on topics that I
cared not for, I only wished to discuss my ongoing on off social
anxiety and high school melodrama with a girl that I wished to get
her.

The End

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