9 15 15
A YSOV Journal by Mye

by Steve Craig
copyright 1991, 1994

part 1

Is it by choice?  I'll admit, it is partly, but then I didn't have any choice.  I really didn't want this, but I had no choice.  Life made me this way.

Red, it's all we see, I know you see it, I see it every day.  Hook and ladder fifty-one.  See it every day.  Try to chase it down, never with any luck.  It's not my fault.

All I can do is lie here.  You know what it's like, when you first wake up in the morning.  Lay around, scratch your eyes, try to see through your blurry lenses.  Every morning I do this.  Can't help myself, every morning.  Scratch my blurry lenses.  Stare at the ceiling.  Watch the cracks grow, watch the spiders grow.  Move along the cracks grow.  Curl around and under my sheets, watch the cracks grow in broken glass.  Watch the dust fly by, and watch it fly inside.  Fly inside my room, bringing cold air, bringing it inside.  Maybe I'll just go back to sleep for awhile.  Stay inside.

All I can do is lie here, it's not as if there is some place to go.  Sometimes I pretend I have some place to go, and walk around in circles.  Sometimes I do this for hours, sometimes.  Sometimes I just lie here and stare at the ceiling.  Lie here and listen to all of the fear that goes on down stairs, listen to Rebecca searching for something not there.  Shadows, and children walking down the cold streets.  Lay here and listen to everything, I can almost see it, see everything, see the metal rusting away.  I lie here and I really am scared, scared of the noises of the people I never see.  I'm scared of my imagination, let it get the best of me.  I can stand in the window and watch it all, and I know there really isn't anything to be afraid of, just trying to keep the line out of my head.

Trying to keep the line out of my head, that's why I have to go out, no circles today.  Go run my fingers across the concrete wall, go watch the people stare at each other, let the wind turn my fingers blue, chase after hook and ladder fifty-one.  Watch others chase after hopes and dreams and slip on the concrete ramps.

It really isn't my fault.  Just a statement.

Over there, through the corridors and other hallways hook and ladder fifty-one goes by, to fast.  I get tired, my legs are too tired, my lungs hurt, I have to hunch over and look at the ground.  I have to catch my breath.  I have to watch old newspapers be carried by the wind, twirl up into the sky three stories high.

I have to crawl into basements and listen to the people, have them tell me that my arm hurts and maybe I should see the doctor.

Hook and ladder fifty-one.  One day they stopped and told me that someday your arm would hurt, but if I couldn't catch them it would always hurt.  I've never seen anyone catch them, I've read about it in the paper, but never actually seen it.

You run so hard, all of us, with nothing to do. Just run after hook and ladder fifty-one. Run til we fall over with exhaustion.

At night all I can do is lie in my bed, buried in sheets, in thoughts, twitching, jerking, dreaming. She stirs me. I don't know her, but she's there... the girl of my dreams, and others. I know this, it's a secret I've been told, and it's the only thing that keeps me alive. It's my own fault, it's all I want. Twitching and jerking, twitching and jerking. Spasmodic muscular movement.

In the morning, when last night is just a dream, fading to nothing, I feel better. But the wound is deep, and I ache, so I must leave the house again. I find myself at the fence again. Chain link. My fingers grip it, and I press my face against it. I press my face so hard against it, it leaves the impression of the chain link across my cheek.

The girls, they play on their side. Uniforms, uniform they play with a giant ball. Up in the air, pushing it higher, chasing, and running for it on their lush green grass, frolicking, nothing else matters. They don't even know of our side, they don't care.

I extend my fingers through the links, allowing them to catch their sunlight, to warm my fingers, for just a moment. I cry, I weep when I'm here. the girls, so young and beautiful, running and enjoying life. They know nothing. Nothing of me, nothing of the pain inside.

I have to leave, it kills me to be here. I go home. When I get there, the postman is there, delivering mail. She looks at me. The lines in her face are so old, so cold, her hair dry and dead. I hate her. i cannot bare to look at her. She extends her hand and I shutter, I want her to leave me alone. She hands me a postcard. It's for me. I can't remember the last time I got something. It's addressed to me, what should I do. I turn it over. Red, it's all I see. It seems to have been bathed in red, an explosion of red. A cross is on it's left side centered in space, a red heart floats above it, explosions of red coming from it, and words:

I know you,
I know you know me.

red truck, red car,
red stop light.

I love you.

piss so hard you fill the toilet.

9 15 15.

It makes no since to me. 9 15 15, what does that mean? I spend the rest of the evening staring at this card, this card with no meaning, filled with meaning. A meaning I can't comprehend. This is the greatest day of my life. And when I sleep tonight, I dream of red. That is the only color I love, it's the only thing I love. Red surrounds me, and fills me up, and drains me. I sleep for three days. And red is all I know.

part 2

Red... it's all I see. I look out my window, poor souls. All of us. Standing in my empty room. Bed on one wall, sheets lying on the wood floor, dust. I hear something moaning in the street. Someone screaming. Someone dying, no I hear all of us dying. Hook and ladder fifty-one is dying too. I can't stand it anymore, I puke all over myself, all over my floor. Red... blood mixed with puke. My room starts to spin, distortion, feedback and my room goes black.

I wake up staring at my innards. Flies buzzing around, eating my puke, my blood. It makes me sick. I stand and look outside. It to makes me sick. I pick up my sheets and use them to wipe up the puke, and take them over to the stove, turn it on and lay the sheets on top of them and leave. As I walk away from my building I hear people cheering. Hook and ladder fifty-one is sure to come now. To me it doesn't matter, I've lost everything, hope. I go to the fence, it's my last chance of turning myself around.

My fingers feel warm on their side. The girls seem happy, they don't see the smoke of my burning apartment. They don't see any of this. My fingers clinch the fence and I watch the girls and tears fill my eyes. I look up to the sky, praying for a way out, but all I see is the top of the fence.

There is no though, no past memory of anyone climbing the fence before. I don't think there is a law against it. But before I can reason myself out of it, I'm lying on the other side. My whole body enjoying the warmth of sunlight, the joy of life. I get up and look around. The girls are off playing down in another field. I see a stream so I go to it, and drink its fresh water, take off my clothes and bathe in it. I feel reborn wading in this stream, washing my old life away. This is where I belong, all my dreams come true.

I decide to leave my clothes behind, they're part of the dead me, and I want no part of them. So I just walk, walk to feel the grass between my toes, sunlight on my face, no cold concrete, to me this is heaven.

I hear voices, a gathering, people gathered together. A celebration perhaps, a party for the goodness. An auditorium, people gathered around, coming around from all over. People see me, they expect nothing. Have no thought of me being from the other side. A young man comes up to me and hands me a robe. His only words are, "good day". All I can do now is smile. As I get closer to the auditorium I see one man in front of all the others, preaching or selling something to the rest. They sit there, and listen intently. Sitting there in metal fabricated chairs.

This seems odd to me. In this world of wonder and joy, they sit on metal fabricated chairs. Something produced in my world. How did they get them? Is there a door somewhere?

The salesman talks rapidly, he speaks of peace, love, God and everything that matters. Not once does he mention metal fabricated chairs. I guess they only matter in my world.

I sit here for hours listening to the salesman, waiting for him to tell me about the chairs, not really caring. Letting my mind wander, enjoying the world that I'm in. At some point I fall asleep, and it feels good.

Later when I wake, I feel totally refreshed. I sit up in my chair and in front of me there's this girl. Curly blonde hair, and her white robe. I don't know her, I can't even see her; but to me she is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. My hand, not thinking, working on its own reaches up and touches her hair. Letting her hair fall through my fingers like rain. Softer then anything I've ever felt. Smells of flowers or love.

She knows I'm there, and turns and smiles at me.

"I know you, and I know you know me."

And then she gets up and walks out of the auditorium, I couldn't believe it. The postcard. She had to know of it. Could she be the one that sent it? I get up and run after her, but she's gone. Down over the soft hills, rolling hills she walks. Must be hours away from me. How could this be? Did I sleep again? Was this a dream? I walk, probably for hours.

part 3

For this whole trip she walked, and I walked what seemed like miles behind her. And then before her, there was a structure, it seemed dark for this world. As I got closer, it looked to be a single story, but probably several thousand fet long. It was an open type structure, or at least I didn't see any doors, there were columns, hundreds of them. As I got closer I realized that the building wasn't dark, but it seemed to not have any light inside, so that the inside was very dark. By the time I reached the structure she was inside. I couldn't see her or anybody. I felt alone, for the first time since I left my world.

I look inside, without entering, it almost seems like a sanctuary to me. I ask if anyone is here, yelling out, searching for attention. No one responds, I decide that I should go in.

Inside, past the columns, there are rolls of water fountains, they look like urinals to me, and I remember the post card, "piss so hard you fill the toilet."

Is there a connection? Ever since I entered this world, the signs, this is the second sign. What did the postcard read: I know you, I know you know me. Red truck, red car, red stop light. I love you. Piss so hard you fill the toilet. 9 15 15. What could this mean? I feel tired, and I have been walking for hours. I sit down next to one of the urinals/fountains. Run the water through my fingers, splash my face, drink the water, and lie down, just for a minute...

There are lines, lines everywhere, men standing there, waiting to urinate in the fountains, and all around me the smell of urine. My head starts to spin, I have to lean against one of the fountains to keep myself from falling to the floor. Images seem blurry. Someone walks towards me. It's her, she comes right up to me, and brushes my forehead. She opens her robe to expose her breasts, and she brings me to her and holds me for a time. She says nothing, she doesn't have to. She pulls her fingers through my hair. I feel safe in her arms. When I'm with her, I don't see anything around me, no one waiting to use the urinals, no dirty smell, it's just me and her. I look down at her breasts, and I hold my face in her hair. And I speak, but my mouth says nothing, it's my heart, "I love you." And she looks at me and she smiles, and she says she loves me to. And we stand here in each others arms for eternity, the world erodes and falls away. The salesmen come and go, but they all eventually die. Metal fabricated chairs rust and turn to dust. And all this time we stand here and hold each other, her breasts against mine. So in love, and eventually, time and space dies, and the universe is nothing but we are still there, still nowhere.

In the morning I wake and I realize that it was all a dream. And I think about it and tears start to form in my eyes. This kills me.

I walk around and search for fountains that look more like washing basins, and I find one and use it to rinse off my face, and drink its water.

I continue to walk, to search, and come upon more and more columns, and fountains, everywhere, until later when I hear voices, I search in that direction.

they stand there and stare at me like I did something wrong. I greet them, and now they're pleased and at ease. I ask them about the girl, they know her and they take me to her.

She sits in this structure, people surround me, they surround her. People are everywhere, conversing. She sees me, and the biggest smile appears on her face., and I know she is mine. We approach each other, and stand in front of each other smiling. I lean over to her and whisper in her ear, "I'll love you through all of time." She knows this, and she speaks so softly into my ear, "I love you." And it's the only words I hear, it's the only words I have to hear.

And the other people, they approach us. And they speak to us, to her. They speak English, but their words mean nothing. And someone steps between us and then another, and my hand extends, reaching for her and she reaches for me, speaking my name. My name I never gave her. And more people separate us. They continue their talking, selling, and then she's gone. To many people have gotten between us, and all I see is an ocean of people and they continue to push me. Push me further and further til I'm outside again. And they push me on the ground and they're screaming at me and they raise their fists in the air. I crawl on the ground rolling up into a ball trying to protect myself and inside my ear, I hear a voice, "red stop light" and I look to see who said this and someone's fist comes crashing against my face and everything turns to black.

When my eyes finally open there are people standing over me. Asking if I need anything, if I'm alright. These must not be the same people who were with me before. I ask them where the girl is. They inform me that she's inside. She's always inside. They say that she sits in there, waiting for someone, someone like me. And that when she finds him she is going to leave, leave this world; however, the others have made it clear that she is not to leave. That she belongs to them. And she knows this, she made a vow once that she would stay with them. But now she wants to leave. I know this, they didn't tell me, I just know. I ask them if I could go see her, if I could talk to her. They say I can but the others will be there, they surround her, and that she'll never leave.

She is surrounded by them, and they smile at me. They say we are friends, and that they mean me no harm. They surround me again, and they start to push, and they push me into a room and close the door. Inside there are two metal fabricated chairs they face each other. I bang my fists against the door, crying to be let out. No one hears my calls, or at least answers my calls. I search around the room, there is nothing, just the dark blocks, metal door and two metal fabricated chairs facing each other.

It just seems so obvious, when it hits me. I sit down in the metal fabricated chair that faces away from the door. I cross my hands in my lap and I close my eyes. And in just a couple of minutes I hear the door open and someone enters, and the door closes. I hear as he moves over to his metal fabricated chair and sits. And then he speaks my name and I open my eyes.

And there he sits before me, the preacher/salesman. He is of course concerned with my well being. "Yes, I'm comfortable." One would think that sitting on a metal fabricated chair that it would be uncomfortable, but on the contrary, I am quite comfortable.

The preacher/salesman speaks in monotone, most comfortable voice, caring his hands lightly folded in his lap. He is truly concerned with what is happening.

He speaks and tells me of responsibility, mine and hers. He tells me that I'm a foreigner here. That I'm unaware of their customs, and that I should obey their customs. He tells me of my world, of the race that continues. Of the small joys, that they could never know on this side. He says that I need to stop living for myself, and to give to my people. And he reminds me of Rebecca, and what a sweet girl she is.

He tells me about the girl on this side. That her responsibility is greater then any needs I have. That I would be destroying this world, destroying her by taking her away.

He holds my hands, and tells me that it's o.k. to feel sad, and he tells me that I understand, and for a short time I believe him.

part 4

It's night when they take me back to the chain link fence. They push me underneath it, nd when the metal digs into my flesh, it's when I understand that I'm truly going back to my world. The cold wind stings the opened wounds. I lie there, watch the tears form a small puddle on the ground. They told me that they would tell her 'good-bye' for me.

Hook and ladder fifty-one comes by and it stops. The red truck men come down from the truck and throw me in a compartment so small. And they drive.

It's just a short drive, and they let me out. It's my apartment, the roof burned off, windows broken. They carry me up the stairs and throw me in. I can hear hook and ladder fifty-one roaring down the street.

And once again I'm left here, watching a puddle form before me. And in my back I feel the wounds growing deeper. The wounds cut deep into me, they reach deep down into my soul, until the pressure surrounds me, chews on my heart. And I can't help myself, I grow weaker until I finally drop to the floor. As everything fades I watch my skin, shrivel, turn to blue, my eyes turn to dust, and slowly my heart turns to dust, and my life falls to the floor and everything disappears.

When I think about it the next day, I wonder, could Rebecca be so bad? I get up off the floor and walk over to the shattered wall. There down on the street, with howling children, I see her, Rebecca as she scrapes her fingers against the wall. Scraping, drawing her name in blood, with her cursed fingers. And I remember the other one, on the other side. She was meant for something greater. This is my life.

I go downstairs and Rebecca smiles at me. And I scrape my fingers against the wall, til my fingers bleed. And this is how we spend our first day together, and this whole rotten world celebrates. People come up from behind me, and pat me on the back, and everything is right with the world.

Rebecca doesn't even care about the burnt down walls, as long as we've got this dirty floor to sleep on. And at night as we're making love, tears roll down my face. Rebecca says I'll get over it, but I never will.

The next day the world, our world shows up for the wedding. Everyone, they all praise me, tell me it's the right thing to do. They're glad that I'm back, and every bone in my body says that something is wrong.

It's day time, it's our honeymoon, we're vacationing down in a steel factory. Rivers of hot metal flow by everywhere. We must truly be a young couple in love. Rebecca is in the shower when there's a knock on the door. A messenger is there, she is old and cold. And she is dying. And she gives the card to me and leaves again.

I see nothing but red. Centered is a red cross, explosion of red, and a red heart floats above it. And there are words on it...

I know you,
I know you know me.

Red truck, red car
red stoplight.

I love you.

Piss so hard, you fill the toilet.

9 15 15.

And it says nothing, there are no words on it, just three words on it... I love you. Rebecca comes out of the shower dripping wet. She knows that the card is her and takes it from me and she reads it aloud... "piss so hard you fill the toilet. 9 15 15" "look honey" she says, "everyone sends us their best, hope we're having a good time. Isn't that nice?"

Nothing makes sense anymore. I understand nothing.

"Honey?"

And at night when I'm sleeping, there is nothing but red, and 9 15 15. Hope we're having a good time? And there are silent screeches in my head and nothing still makes sense. Red numbers.

I have to get up and go for a walk. Everything seems to frighten me at this time. I wander around aimlessly, through the steel factory, following the molten rivers. And in my head all that there is, is 9 15 15 and red. And when I come to the end of the molten rivers and through other things, the big machine spits out one object, a metal fabricated chair.

We have to go home the next day. Have to? On the way home the walk does me good. We walk slowly, looking in windows, and there inside a store, a metal fabricated chair. It's for sale. I tell Rebecca that I must have it. She thinks it's a good idea. I know we can't afford it right now, but to own a metal fabricated chair.

When we get home we place the metal fabricated chair in the center of the room. We stand back for awhile and stare at it. It seems to fit in perfectly. Rebecca seems to be really happy that we bought the metal fabricated chair. And she looks at me and she smiles, and from her mouth come her last words, "piss so hard you fill the toilet."

And from outside thunder crashes, cars crash, people are screaming, the baby was crying. The metal fabricated chair is tightly in my hands and I'm screaming the chair is flying through the air, crashing against Rebecca, and flying through the air, and crashing against poor Rebecca. Blood splatters against the floor, against my shoes, there's blood on my shoes, and on my pants, the floor will need to be cleaned, and the chair is thrown against the floor, against the walls, and finally thrown through the open wall, open ceiling.

I think I'm out of breath.

Someone takes the metal fabricated chair and they'll wash off the blood, and skull fragments, and strands of hair, and there will be nothing left but a semi-used metal fabricated chair.

And I spend the next hour cleaning the floor, wiping up the blood. Rebecca's body I dump through the open wall, someone will pick her up.

And then I wait, I look at my watch, and I wait for nine hours, fifteen minutes, and fifteen seconds, and then there is a knock on the door. I get up and and answer it. And there she is, finally.

"What's your name?"

"Memphis"