Cast Down. (Prosaic whimsy)

Cast Down. Part 1. ( A DarkAlice Novella)

Just as Alice was beginning to grow ENTIRELY even MORE bored, the ArchAngels reappeared.

They had been gone rather a long time, Alice thought to herself.
Although to Alice, any span much greater than the time required to spin completely once around, was rather a long time.

They had waited just long enough to tell her to ‘WAIT HERE’, before vanishing, leaving her standing alone in the middle of a large and rather featureless chamber.

But now they had returned , from where-ever it was they had gone, and had taken up their previous positions behind the lecterns at the front of the room.

Or was it the back of the room?
The large ornate doors by which one entered the room were the only real decor of note, and certainly a good candidate for claiming the status of ‘front’ of the room. So perhaps…

Alice tilted her head back until she could see the doors of the chamber, a task made easier by the fact that she was sitting on the floor.
‘Waiting for Angels makes your feet terribly sore’, she had thought grumpily.

She tipped her head forward again to look at the lecterns, then back over her head to consider the doors, back and forth, again and again, until she started to grow rather dizzy.

“ALICE”.
A voice boomed from the front of the room, and startled, she fell backwards with a shriek, sprawling on the floor, legs in the air.
She thought she heard a chorus of sighs through her skirts, which were now halfway over her head.
A brief struggle ensued, and eventually, but not quite as triumphantly as she had hoped, she managed to untangle her skirts and scramble to her feet.
She was glad she had decided not to take her shoes off after all, although the hole in one of the toes had perhaps played a larger role in that decision.

She couldn’t decide which of the ArchAngels had spoken, as they all sounded the same to her. When they spoke, she couldn’t tell if was out loud like regular people, or directly into her head, which was rather rude if so. It was she eventually decided, a glass half full and a glass half empty, which made perfect sense to her, as they went hand in hand, unsure why it deserved a saying.

‘They look the same too, for all in tents and porpopises’. She thought, gazing at them.
Although what dolphins wanted with camping equipment was beyond her, as were many of the ‘sayings’ she had collected.

She supposed it had been Gabriel, his being the only Angel name she could remember, and that was as good a reason as any to label him thus.

‘Yes, your majest…er…worsh….. ahh…Sir?’ She tried to look respectful , and tried not to think of chubby little kids with wings and bows.

‘THOSE, ARE CHERUBS’, the center-most Angel spoke.

‘Sorry’, she said, not really sure she’d done anything wrong.

‘QUITE ALL RIGHT’.
Was it her imagination, or did the ArchAngel sound…embarassed?

‘I didn’t mean’, she started., remembering the mental image, ‘that is, I’m sure yours is bigger than that.’
She turned red, desperately trying not to think ‘tiny winkies’. But, as when someone tells you not to think of a purple elephant, that’s the only thing you CAN think of.

The angels looked confused, and she giggled, wondering if they were reading from her jumbled mental images of purple elephants with tiny winkies, or perhaps tiny elephants with purple winkies..

After processing for a moment, Gabriel made a dismissive motion with his hand, and Alice’s head was quite clear and attentive, which she considered rather unfair, and much akin to cheating.

Gabriel continued, getting straight to the point, as one might expect.
‘THERE HAS BEEN A…MIX UP.’ He looked even more embarrassed than before, if such a thing were possible.

Alice waited, confused.

‘WE CANNOT FIND YOUR FILE, YOU DO NOT SEEM TO EXIST.’

Alice blinked.
‘What?!’

‘THERE IS NO RECORD OF YOU HERE. WELL, ANYWHERE, REALLY….’

Silence, then she asked slowly, as she tried to figure it out, ‘So what does that mean’?

Gabriel shifted uneasily.
‘WITHOUT A RECORD, WE CANNOT PROCESSS YOU. YOU ARE.. FREE TO GO.
TRY NOT GET YOURSELF KILLED. AGAIN’
He tapped his wrist pointedly.

‘Is it because I’m a Glassian’? she asked, feeling angry. ‘You won’t let me in your stupid heaven ‘cos I’m a Glassian?’

The ArchAngels looked at her blankly.

‘A Glassian!’, she elaborated. ‘A believer in all things through The Looking Glass’.

The Angels conferred briefly, before one of them asked.

“IS THAT LIKE AN ATHEIST? OR A PAGAN?”

‘Arrrrrghhhhhhh!’.
Alice screamed and stamped her foot.
‘Listen here, you Castiel wannabe!’ she said sternly, ‘My talking rabbits and infinite Tea Parties are just as real as any of your implausible teapots, purple unicorns or invisible sky daddies’.

‘ALICE’.
The tone was cautionary.

‘And you know what you can do with that book? Why you can . . . .’
Gabriel gestured hastily, and the world went black.

Alice sighed, and opened her eyes.
She looked down at her blood soaked dress, and freshly healed scars.
Not having burned in Hell aside, it seemed things were worse than she had thought.

Apparently she didn’t even exist…

“Good One Alice’, she said to the air, sitting forlornly on the ground in the middle of what appeared to me some kind of meadow. She didn’t recognise her location.
‘Now, you’ve really gone and done it..’

(to be cont..)

Haircut

Reckless I,
Hair and life in tangles.
Heedless I,
Hair and life a mess.

Careless I,
Hair and life darker than they should be.
Lazy I,
Should buy a brush.

Insomnia pt.2 – Nevermore

So I’m jiggling my legs like some frenetic junkie, waiting for the benzos and codeine to kick in.
It’s one of those nights where despite the warmth of the room, I feel cold inside.
My self hating nihilism is all-prevailing and the certainty that I will never be better, that I am doomed to endure day after day of misery and frustration, clings to me like a cold wet bedsheet.

The experience of staying awake all night, especially 2 or 3 days/nights continuously, not only creeps into joints and muscles as stiffness and pain, but eventually becomes a pressure inside the head, like a clamp crushing upon your brain.
Given enough time, everything about staying awake for extended periods of time becomes unpleasant.

My best efforts to boost my mood upward, to think of positive things, and to convince myself life is worthwhile, such as trying to believe that one day I may be even happy, is met every time now by Poes’ Raven, embedded in my mind, it’s vocabulary no greater now than from it’s famous past.

‘Things are going to get better’, I repeat to myself.
“Nevermore”, comes the inetivetible reply.

‘One day, I will be happy’, I even try to believe it.
The Raven croaks, “Nevermore”.

‘I WILL be happy’, I tell it.
“Nevermore”.

I wonder if it understands double negatives.
‘I will not never be happy’, I offer.
Silence.

In the end, I just return it’s ridicule.

‘I will not never inversely opposite become antithetically unhappy’, I say, although I doubt it will fall for any convolutions of syntax and reply ‘Nevermore’.

The raven just stares at me. I suppose because the raven is a creation in my mind, trying to fool myself when I know the plan, isn’t really very logical.

But logic seems to diminish exponentially as hours continue to pass without sleep.

As does motivation, positivity, and the will to live.

I’m beginning to become so freaked out that I can’t even cry.
I want to, I can feel the tears behind my eyes, but the raw scraping of my nerves won’t let them flow.

A tiny bit less control and I’d probably be laughing maniacally. Panic and lack of reason start burning hot in my chest, a strange counter point to the ceaseless icy chill in my guts.

From experience I’ll still be awake this time tomorrow (5.30am), so there’s always some potentially delusional posts to look forward to.

Sharp as a hammer

There may be those who think I’m just not that bright.
But I can find a door-frame in the dark,
I don’t need a light.

There’s no mail service here on any weekend day.
I know the letterbox is empty,
But I’ll go and check it anyway.

If the remote doesn’t work
I mash harder,
If there’s no food in fridge or in larder,
I’ll check two-dozen more times just to see,
If something appeared magically.

I can open those childproof caps,
But still the hot and cold taps
Confound me unless coloured or labelled,
Or why a tablespoon is not for the table.

And I still trust people,
I still open up my heart.
And I still can’t find myself
In the dark.

Intermission quote..

“The monkeys have run out of chickens to fuck, and that’s why the world is the way it is. . .”.
– Beyond Wonderland.

—-

Poems to resume at some random time in the unforeseable future. Because no one can see the future.
-Alice.

I don’t GO crazy, I AM crazy.
I just go normal from time to time.

Of teacups..

My favourite colour is midnight,
Favourite time is soon,
My favourite song not written yet,
Alarm still set for Noon.
I quite like long beaches,
Just not walking along.
The time that I spend showering
Is the length of that favourite song.
I can’t stand cold showers
But love walking in the rain,
If there’s something I’ve never done before,
I’ll go and not do it again.
I’ve never seen a storm in a tea-cup,
Only tea-cups in a storm,
So I make sure to hold all my tea parties
Only when everything’s warm.
I’m party to tea at my tea party,
Where normally normal’s the norm,
And it’s cosier with a tea-cosy
‘Cos cosys keep everything warm,
And as we know about tea-cups,
The warmer ones keep away storms.
So that’s me in a nut-shell,
Where else would any nut be?
Will I live up to the low-down?
You’ll have to keep reading to see.

therapy.. (prose)

‘Well you see, Sir.’
Alice began hesitantly.
‘I needed to speak to someone, about..Oh, a great many things!
I considered everyone I knew, and how they might be able to help me, and in the end, I believe you are certainly the right person for the job,
especially considering your enormous expertise in helping many troubled souls through difficult times’.

Alice paused, and looked over to see how her speech had been received.
The scruffy old teddy bear stared silently through its one remaining eye.

‘I see’. She said thoughtfully. ‘I guess you couldn’t relate as much in any case, what with client… congenitality.. ..confence-idality.. ..that thing.., anyhow’.

She shifted on her chair nervously for many long moments, waiting, under the relentless stare of the black, bleak eye.
‘Alright!’, she finally shrieked, the teacup and plate going over her head, destined to land in locations unknown.
‘I stole the tarts!.’

The bear remained silent. After several long moments, in which, quite distinctly, nothing happened, Alice recomposed herself with as much dignity as she could muster, cleared her throat, and returned her attention to the bear.

She finally confided, ‘Though whatever I’m to do now, without any expert advice, I really don’t know! You were my last and only hope!’

A quiet voice came from down near her elbow.
‘No. There is another..’
Alice looked down to see DorMouse standing beside her.
‘Don’t you start’.
But she smiled anyway.

Perfectly Clear (prose)

‘It isn’t so much as what it never was’, said Alice, awkwardly attempting to adopt a stance and tone of voice approximating what she imagined a university professor might assume, ‘but rather, what it wasn’t ever in the first place’.

She paused, trying to follow her own thoughts.

‘For example’, she attempted to clarify.

‘If you break this tea cup..’

She picked up the nearby object and dropped it to the ground, adding a small flourish for effect, but it merely bounced, several times, then rolled to a stop, defiantly intact.
She glared at the offender, then stomped on it furiously until it was only small pieces.
“Like so..”, She announced.

‘You not only destroy the many cups of tea it might have been, but also the many cups of tea it never was.’

‘Aren’t those the same thing?’, asked the Dormouse, who was the only one really paying attention.

Alice frowned, not entirely certain, but unwilling to appear wrong at this point, drew herself up importantly.

‘Decidedly not!’ She declared.