How did it come to this?
The rain drops splattering my face awakened me and for a brief moment, I imagined all was well with the world. My world. Echo was next to me.
The pitter patter of rain aroused a deep satisfaction residing quietly in my soul as she stirred naked and smelling of sweat, sex and fruity hair conditioner flopped across me in sleep filled contentment.
But that was a sandcastle dream quickly disintegrating as water and gasoline now stung my eyes.
The rage didn't come full on, not all at once. Rather like the sensation of being burned seems to grow until it is all you feel.
The reality was that my leg was pinned under an over turned vehicle and Echo lay nearby, motionless. Bleeding.
I summoned, what seemed to me at least, all the power invested in nature, god and the cosmos but the car didn't even budge. This cold, callous, indifferent, monster slumped over me.
The rain continued to pelt the frame and the sound that would normally be relaxing now only gonged loudly in my brain like a clock ticking down.
Another vehicle lay mangled close by. Pan. His headlight beams were still on. The mangled streams of light pointed oddly into the sky revealing bands of wind tossed rain, rolling down.
I needed to free myself, kill Pan once and for all; for good goddammit and get Echo medical care. What if he survived and is coming to finish me off?
The thought ushered in a another frantic round of exhausting pulling and pushing. Dizziness fell upon me as I pounded against the uncaring metal.
My tears were indistinguishable from the droplets of water. My strength and time were running out.
I had him. Dead to rights. The shot was clean and must have severed something important. Yes. That must be so--Right?
The fight, the gun battle, the ensuing chase, Echo yelling at me to slow down, played like a loop, over and over in my tortured and slowly failing mind.
In moments like this, I wish to be anyone but me. The failure. The loser. The killer. Echo, I'm sorry.
The sound of a firing bolt retreating into a metallic chamber as a firing hammer is pulled back. Pan is above me but he is looking at Echo. My Echo.
Water effortlessly glides down the barrel which is a foot away from my forehead.
The fact that I'm writing this to you should have alerted you to the fact that Pan didn't fire.
My punishment, it appears, was life. A life without her. A life spent on the run from Nemesis, the opposite of Echo.
My provisional answer to your growing question of what became of Echo will be short. You don't deserve it.
The failure of words to describe what transpired is necessary. To even attempt it is to immediately devalue it.
The missed connection I suspect is forever hung like a wreath onto the doorway of my inner self.
Granted, even the most blissfully mediocre among you will agree that it makes for a piss poor ending but you know the old saying,
when you stare into the pool, the pool stares also into you. Besides, this story is far from over.
Narcissus
The rain drops splattering my face awakened me and for a brief moment, I imagined all was well with the world. My world. Echo was next to me.
The pitter patter of rain aroused a deep satisfaction residing quietly in my soul as she stirred naked and smelling of sweat, sex and fruity hair conditioner flopped across me in sleep filled contentment.
But that was a sandcastle dream quickly disintegrating as water and gasoline now stung my eyes.
The rage didn't come full on, not all at once. Rather like the sensation of being burned seems to grow until it is all you feel.
The reality was that my leg was pinned under an over turned vehicle and Echo lay nearby, motionless. Bleeding.
I summoned, what seemed to me at least, all the power invested in nature, god and the cosmos but the car didn't even budge. This cold, callous, indifferent, monster slumped over me.
The rain continued to pelt the frame and the sound that would normally be relaxing now only gonged loudly in my brain like a clock ticking down.
Another vehicle lay mangled close by. Pan. His headlight beams were still on. The mangled streams of light pointed oddly into the sky revealing bands of wind tossed rain, rolling down.
I needed to free myself, kill Pan once and for all; for good goddammit and get Echo medical care. What if he survived and is coming to finish me off?
The thought ushered in a another frantic round of exhausting pulling and pushing. Dizziness fell upon me as I pounded against the uncaring metal.
My tears were indistinguishable from the droplets of water. My strength and time were running out.
I had him. Dead to rights. The shot was clean and must have severed something important. Yes. That must be so--Right?
The fight, the gun battle, the ensuing chase, Echo yelling at me to slow down, played like a loop, over and over in my tortured and slowly failing mind.
In moments like this, I wish to be anyone but me. The failure. The loser. The killer. Echo, I'm sorry.
The sound of a firing bolt retreating into a metallic chamber as a firing hammer is pulled back. Pan is above me but he is looking at Echo. My Echo.
Water effortlessly glides down the barrel which is a foot away from my forehead.
The fact that I'm writing this to you should have alerted you to the fact that Pan didn't fire.
My punishment, it appears, was life. A life without her. A life spent on the run from Nemesis, the opposite of Echo.
My provisional answer to your growing question of what became of Echo will be short. You don't deserve it.
The failure of words to describe what transpired is necessary. To even attempt it is to immediately devalue it.
The missed connection I suspect is forever hung like a wreath onto the doorway of my inner self.
Granted, even the most blissfully mediocre among you will agree that it makes for a piss poor ending but you know the old saying,
when you stare into the pool, the pool stares also into you. Besides, this story is far from over.
Narcissus
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