A Stamp To Mail My Mind Away (Chapter 7) (c) 2022 (reader warning: Graphic suicide content)

 

  7.

“What if I were to tell you that everything you know now will change?” I heard someone calmly ask. I looked around. My eyes fixated on an angel statue. 

 

“Dude, come on!” Carlton screamed as he grabbed my arm. I could hear him yelling, I could feel his life force. But there was something. Something interfering. It reminded me of when I tried to do something I wanted to do, there was always negative talk in my mind. That made me not do it. Negative self-talk like “You are going to fail,” “They are going to hate you,” “You’ll be alone.” I think of dreams that I once had of doing something in the arts; like being a writer or a musician. Not a sensible thing in the upper-class families. You need to do something that will pay you money. Be an accountant, or a banker.

 

The interference followed me viciously. At dates when I would be socializing well. Then the interference came, “She’s just feeling sorry for you.” “When she finds out who you really are, she’ll leave you.” Or the job interview, “You’ll never be good enough to be in their league.”

“No!”

 

“Dude! You’re just having a bad trip!” Carlton screamed.

 

Then a being, with the ability to travel time, came to me. It looked masculine in shape. Its skin was of yellow and white light. When I looked at it, I had to close my eyes. When I opened my eyes, I saw a kaleidoscope. A Kaleidoscope that kept moving.

 

“All those beautiful colors,” Jude remarked. The hallucinogens were starting to take effect. The clouds were low, traveling quickly across the bright red moon.

 

“It is showing us a path,” Mammie said as though she was commanding omnipotent and omniscient forces. They were all together. The silence lingered through the air. Only to be interrupted seconds later, by the beeping from Samuel’s ghost gadget.

 

“Let’s go,” Peter said as he placed himself in front of the group.

 

The coldness of tightly gripping the cemetery gates spread from my fingers to the top of my head, to my spine. My body was cold. I saw a man swinging by a chord. A chord that was wrapped around his neck.

 

“Is that you?”

“Or is it this?”

Then I saw a man. Full beer cans, half empty beer cans, full bottles of cheap liquor, and vodka, dirty clothes, cigarette butts, empty fast-food cartons, roaches, and flies, all around him. He had a an old cassette player playing his and his ex-lover’s favorite songs playing. Had the shotgun in his mouth. His big toe on the trigger. He was getting drowsier. Once his body was totally relaxed, the heavy big toe was heavy enough for…

 

A loud deafening bang.

 

First came the lightning that struck in the middle of the crossroads.

Then, they heard the screaming. He held the Stella (guitar) tight because he changed his mind once the demon came.

 

“You will have it all,”

 

the demon said

 

extending his right hand and pointed his finger, with his sharp fingernail cut an x into the aspiring musician’s forehead. Immediately the aspiring musician saw crowds that were cheering for him. He saw the club owner’s hands handing him more money than he had ever seen. He then handed his Stella to the demon. The demon handed back his guitar.

“Place your fingers on the strings,” the demon instructed.

 

When he placed his fingers on, the now razor sharp, strings-his fingertips bled. He screamed. It felt like his fingernails were being pulled off.

 

 

 

 

“We Will Meet Again.”