Thursday, June 21, 2012

From Nowhere

      I was riding my bike down the highway, the sun was warm and I had no destination. It was a nice day; cool breezes ran off the lake, the corn fields were knee high. Then came a feeling, I am not sure to this day why I followed it. Just a feeling I guess that led me here.


        At an unmarked gravel road I turned my bike, spotting it as my best opportunity to take a quick naked swim in the water unbothered. As I neared the tree line, I felt in luck, no cottages seemed to lie in this place. Not until I was into the trees did I notice a large red building, two brick stories tall, hiding under a flurry of untamed ivy. There was a hand painted sign over the door proclaiming this to be city hall. Half the windows on one side of the building were smashed, and had been boarded over quickly. Just the look of the place haunted me. I got off my bike to take a look inside. It was locked. I walked around until I found a window near the back of the building low enough for me to peer through. Many of the other windows to this room had been smashed, inside looked dark and dirty, broken bed frames lie strewn all twisted amongst themselves, only recognizable by the few stained mattresses that lie in the corner. I walked back around to the front of the building. "City Hall" was the question on my mind.


           I got back on my bike and continued with my ride into the woods, I came across a clearing where fifteen or so crudely constructed log cabins sat strewed in no particular direction. It was filled with strange silence; I found it odd but let it be. At the edge of what was the community lies a steep twisted road that led down to the sea.


           The bike was picking up good speed, when about halfway down the hill, my front tire caught on a large chunk of broken glass. The tire blew out, I struggled to keep control, a split second later the rim of the wheel dived into a pot hole and bent sideways. I flew over the bars into a pile of brush, and as my luck would have it, a thorn bush. For a moment I lay there in complete shock alternating between pain and anger. How I cursed those aluminum rims with vigor. I unhitched the front tire and threw it deep into the woods. I began to walk back up the hill with the broken bike.


          I had meant to bring my cell phone with me that day, but in my thirst and hunger for sun, I had left with ten bucks and the shirt on my back. If I could find a phone, I could phone my cousin in the next town to pick me up. we would have a few beers and laugh at my misfortunes. I never did get that beer, I never made the call.


           Sweat pouring off me; I came back up into the clearing. Looking in windows, nothing too spectacular, old beds. A big old television with turn knobs and minnows swimming in place of picture tubes. Then I found what I was looking for. Inside one cabin lies a telephone.


           The cabin was in disrepair and inside the dust was thick of years lying. The door gave easily, inside was warm and filthy, thick dust covered everything, from unwashed dishes to the uneven floorboards. One thing struck me as odd, lying on the floor looked to be a child's toy, hand carved and broken. The place was pretty creepy so I made haste to the telephone, an old black turn dial, i picked up the receiver.


             "Can we help you?"


          I almost shit myself, I swung around to face two poorly dressed, blond haired, mid-thirties, examining my every mood. In my shock I dropped the phone, never sure if it worked. I bent over and set it back on the receiver. He was probably thirty two, his eye lids were held half mast, his hair had been cut amateurly to shoulder length, his grin was stretched but friendly enough. She was another story, darting green eyes, skin tanned and pulled tight over her bones. She looked to be almost forty except for the perky breasts which were quite apparent through her white rag of a shirt.


            "Ya, I was just going to make a phone call." I sounded so dumb. I felt dumb.


          They explained to me that none of the hydro was working, and the only place to get ahold of anyone was to go to the city hall. Reluctantly I followed. He carried my bike for me, and she seemed particularly interested in politics and government, she picked my brain over countries and histories of adopted governmental policies. She seemed really interested in communism and its set of ideals. I started to relax a bit.


               When we got to the "City Hall", the man turned to me and asked me if i wanted something to cure my pain. Politely I declined, citing that I must phone my cousin. Then he said something I wasn't expecting.


             "Are you sure you wouldn't like to smoke some marijuana?"


                Next thing I know I'm sitting in the "City Hall" library, on a pile of mattresses, right, talking to these people who are my new best friends, right, and I'm asking them about all sorts of stuff and she is talking all this weird shit about revolutions and pilgrims and pyramids and orphans and just weird messed up stuff. He has this big grin on and I could almost swear his eyes were closed.


             "Hey man, you wanna see the grow room, the telephone is down there too..."


               So I'm Like "okay guy, lets do that then and i wander kind of trippy and i pass some other people and shake hands and everyone is my friend. There clothes are all outdated, but i was sure i saw a newish pair of reeboks, anyways.  We get down to the cellar and he's like


             "Wanna make the phone call now" and I'm like


             "Ya sure, whatever, probably take a while to find the place" and then I walk into the room an I walk over and pick up the phone,  the fucking telephone, the fucking telephone that doesn't work, and they closed the door, and i don't know how long i have been in here and i don't think i can last much longer in this padded room. I hope you don't find this in my state.


                                                                                            Rick Hartman 1979 - ????


My head is totally fucked because I just found this scratched behind a loose panels. Now this isn't a joke any more. It has been 9 days, Those people out there are seriously crazy. This is as real as that crazy tight skinned bitches dirty bmx t-shirt. Good thing I always carry my laptop.






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