Waving Not Drowning (from a library building) By Lindsey Mountford Boo52@hotmail.com Chapter One Greetings and Salutations. If you're reading this, I must be dead. Sorry for your loss. I, however am only too happy to be away from the fucking make-believe children's party that you call a world. Doesn't anyone apart from me realise that we are human beings, homo sapiens, only an animal that must be as free, wild and savage as eagles? I have more respect for the dogs that roam the streets and knock the trash cans over, screaming their pain into the night, killing for their food. They are real. What kind of satisfaction can be brought to any sane man from juggling numbers around on pieces of paper? There are no real jobs left in this world. Even a farmer has to play politics, there are no explorers or hunters left with anything to do. So, I had to invent a new kind of exploration, different things to hunt. And just as clearly as I knew that there are too many people on the planet, I knew my place and purpose in it- I had to put right some of the wrongs, bring the system down to chaos. Chaos. What a beautiful word. Here's how I plan to do it: first, I asked myself, what regions are there left unexplored, what is there left in the world for me to exploit? Not a lot, every diner lining the roads, littering the streets and poisoning our bodies tell you that. So what is there? The human mind, I answered myself. There, vast regions of unknown power lurk unencountered, ready to be tapped into and channelled by yours truly. I would investigate what people had they didn't know and help themselves bring their own downfall and watch them as they fell, and laugh. Deep down, it's what everyone wants, they want to relinquish responsibility and let someone do the work of killing them for them. No one is happy. We all know how pathetic and miserable our lives are, we rot on sofas watching TV and die of cancer 50 years later and not care, too full and brainwashed to notice... that is until the pain kicks in. The kids of our generation whine on about their parents' divorce, the way other kids are mean, that nobody appreciates the art of their pierced, tattooed, mutilated skin and trendy ripped clothing. Shit, I say, it's just clothes, what's the big deal? You think you've got problems, I'll show you fucking problems, I've had fucking problems in my life... and what harm has it done to me? I escaped the dark times with a clear mind of what I must do. Fucking wreck people's lives, so subtly they question themselves. It's in all of us, the seeds of hatred, the bitterness and lust for revenge. The potential for evil lives inside us all. I would just bring this out, make life a little more bearable for us all. Hey, what can I say, everyone has to have a hobby, right? they would all remember my little role in their life to make it more interesting, and they would be grateful. Damned grateful! But first to practise my art, learn the craft before I became the master... Chapter Two. I knew from the first time I laid eyes on her that she would be The One. Little blonde thing she was but unlike the rest of the diet coke-heads she was a natural blonde, must be Scandinavian in origin, she certainly looked a bit foreign, a bit lost and alone in a strange new world. I wonder, did that ever happen to me? Was I ever the little lost new boy? Did mommy ever hold my hand for comfort? Nah. Bitch wouldn't have blew herself up if she gave a damn about me. Lost though this little girl was, she certainly wasn't alone with an entourage of wannabes sucking the life out of her. I could see why they all wanted a piece of her, that girl had an ass of an angel straight from heaven. Yup, could definitely have fun with this girl. It all depended on her, how much of a bitch she was. Bitches are virtually indestructible, usually too air headed to see anything past their own nail varnish to notice suffering or chaos. Girls with some sensitivity left in them were susceptible to my very own brand of dangerous charm. My plan was to make the bitches notice in the end. But first, this girl. She really was a thing of beauty, so doe-eyed and willing to follow. Her eyes were blue and her hair was blonde, she wore pastels and white and was just begging for me to take her away from it all. She looked longingly at me, we were so obviously worlds apart but there was a connection. I could give her what no-one else could. Apparently, her locker was next to mine. She clutched her folders and smiled nervously in my direction. I sighed deep into my chest and launched into the seduction. "New here, huh?" "Y-yes. I just transferred from..." "I'm new too. I'll do a deal with you. I'm the one person in New England you don't have to explain yourself to. You don't tell me where your from, I won't tell you where I'm from. Deal?" I could tell she was a little taken aback, surprised but intrigued as well. "God, that sounds great. You have no idea how pissed I'm getting with all these people. They're sucking me dry, like I'm the new meat in school and everyone wants a piece of me. I thought I'd left all that behind in my old school. I can't deal with this shit. These people don't even know me, but they want me as a friend or a fuck and I'm sick of it, sick of being their product, their Miss-America to screw over. Why me?" "You know why they choose you?" "No!" "It's this," I flicked her immaculate blonde hair and she flinched ever so slightly, frightened, "this," I pointed to her fashionable clothes, "this," I tapped her folders, hard, "and this." Taking a slight strand of hair I brushed it against her cheek and down the fine length of her face ever so slightly, so she could feel the softness of her own hair and the warm, demanding presence of my skin on hers- but only for a millisecond. "I'm sure there's more to you behind this. You should show it more often." She looked dizzy, it had probably never occurred to her to stop pretending to be someone else. She gaped at me until the bell rang, breaking the tension. Immediately an onslaught of people came and shuffled around her. She was embarrassed by them. The guys crowded her while I stood back and watched. She saw me out of the corner of her eye and nervously looked at me for a second before looking down and blushing furiously. "...hey, I'm in American History class too, maybe we could..." "Sylvia, such a pretty name..." "Gotta come out to the 'Dive' Friday, it's really very..." Definitely one of mine. Some girls can never resist me. She practically fell over herself to shake them off, obviously not wanting to be associated with those shallow crowds in front of me. Didn't blame her, I always stay alone. "Yes...yeah, sure... yes!" They were really bugging her now and she couldn't get away. I knew what she longed for. Me. Let her suffer. Then when I find her, I'll take her out into the night and show her the stars and then she will know what true love is. "Only don't fuck with me girl. I will fuck you back twice as hard. I kill. That's my job." Good thing she couldn't hear that. I bet she would be shocked if she knew that behind this rebel-figure with a motorcycle and a leather jacket was a true rebel heart, impenetrable and evil. I don't know why it always comes as such a surprise to these silly girls that I am what I say I am. "But I thought you were different! I thought you were sensitive!" "Different?" These girls were amazing. Could they even hear what they were saying? "I sure am, how many other guys do you know who regularly kill their classmates? This isn't a game, Rachel/Clora/Ally... I'm serious and if you're not with me, you're against me and you know what that means. You know what I'm capable of... " Then I'd rub my Baby Black against their cheek a little, oh how they loved that, fell for it every time. They melted into me, resting in my strength as a leader. "Sensitive? I'm the most sensitive you can get, I know how much teenagers suffer and I put an end to it. You can help me." They knew I was right, they had thought the same things all the time, just needed a push to get there in the end. "Jennifer Merton/Alyson Jamie/Joanne Finnegan, now there's one fucking bitch who deserves to die..." Same town, same people, same problems only separated by hundreds of miles. The breaking-and-entering trick worked, once again, one night when I chose the time was right. I gave her a good week to cook, thinking about the mysterious stranger who was Different and Sensitive. The moon was round and bright, I had a full tank of gas and the night lay ahead for my taking. They always love a rebel, someone who breaks the rules. Good thing they didn't know why exactly I had learned my little breaking-and-entering trick, back when it was necessary in the beginning. I leaned into the open window and heaved myself into her room- pretty and girly, fucking average. I was a little disappointed. "What... what are you doing here?" Breathless amazement, excitement, tension. "Relax. I thought you could use a ride. Ever been on a motorbike?" That was all it ever took. A couple hours later we lay in each other's arms under the stars, her eyes shining with love already, reflecting the sky. A girl once told me that my eyes were like the night, impenetrable and black. She couldn't read anything from my eyes. I read everything in Sylvia's that night. "You're so different. You're... sensitive, not like the other guys who just want me to give them some popularity." I laughed hollowly. She took this to be a laugh of pleasure and cuddled deeper into me. "Mmmm, you must work out," she murmured. "In a sense." I smiled at the irony. "I feel like I can be myself with you. I could tell you anything. I've never felt this way before." "Do you love me?" She was confused for a second; this wasn't how the script was supposed to go. "Yes. I love you, Jason Dean. Jason Dean, my rebel, my knight in shining armour, my lover." "I love you, Sylvia." "We should have met sooner! I've been going around for weeks with those assholes crawling around me. I can't believe I let them get away with hiding me from you for so long. I fucking hate them." I smiled in the dark. "They are so shallow. Do you ever just really hate people, JD, like you really want to kill someone?" "Sometimes." "That Bradley Scott has been bothering me ever since I came but he won't get it into his head that I'm not going to date him- I guess he's not used to getting his own way. There is one fucking bastard who deserves to die." The magic words. "A name and address is all I need, Sylvia and he will bother you no more." "You mean it? " I was silent and strong for her and she believed what she wanted to believe. "Well, okay my handsome prince, you do your thing if you want to rescue me some more, it's Bradley Scott and I have his number around here somewhere..." Chapter Three. Been here a month and already I'm digging the first batch of graves. This was how I achieved the hard body the girls admired, it was hard work digging a grave. Especially one like this, that was made for more than one. It wasn't strictly necessary but there was something oh so satisfying about personally digging the grave of your next chosen victim- I like the tradition of it. There's nothing more satisfying. It was what life was all about. Big Dean Construction companies turned a blind eye to the kid of the Big Bud Dean, and it wasn't hard to find the right spots at the right time just before the construction bit got started to create a resting place where they were sure to rest for a long, long time in a bed of concrete. The word was that this particular spot was destined to be a mall, how ironic that the fucked-up product of the mall generation should lay it's bones in the building of a new mall in their hometown. Kinda big, said a lot. I paused in my work and mopped the sweat from my face. Perfecto. I laughed to myself. Sylvia wasn't sure of the plan at first but went along with it once I convinced her it was the right thing to do. That Bradley Scott needed a lesson, if not to die, I told her, he can't go around fucking with people's lives thinking he owns them. I infected her with anger against him and all the people who had made her life a misery. "Invite them all over," I told her, we'll make a real party of it." "But what are you going to do with all those people there?" She asked, biting her lip. "You let me worry about that. I'll give them a good scare." It took weeks to get that hole right, digging day and night for hours. I stole bags of concrete to fill it up with later. Sylvia grew scared, said she didn't know what I was planning but she knew, all right. She was scared of herself, what she had done. I was only doing what she wanted, and she knew it. "I love you Sylvia, never forget that. I would do anything to prove it to you." "Anything?" She teased. "Anything you asked baby," as long as it was along the lines of murder, that is what I can help you with babe and that is as far as my help extends, unless you're ever dying of sexual frustration. Hah. Chapter Four "Big night tonight, son. Sparks will fly." "What is it Pop? Will there be fireworks?" "Oh, I couldn't possibly tell you that sonny, you'll have to wait and see. By the site of the new mall. Don't interfere. I'd better get on." "Don't get caught, Son." "Right, Dad." He knew. He always knew. About my projects, anyway. I wonder, did he know about my mother? My anger intensified thinking about her. "Paaaaaaaaartaaaaaaay!!!!" the handful of wannabes screamed into the night like dogs, already drunk and excited by the adventure. "Gee, we're really in the middle of nowhere here, aren't we buddy?" "That's right. No-one will be able to hear us, there's no-one round here for miles, so feel free guys." "Excellent. Let's get a fire going!" The enthusiasm was infectious. Yes, lets get a fire going, go down here where it will be safe and won't spread. I let them get on with their fun and games, let them live a little before they died. The tequila was passed around and we all told stories as the fire blazed. "Fucking parents. What's their damage? Is there anyone alive today who doesn't have some sick story about their parents totally screwing them over somehow? I'm never going to be a parent." "What does it matter anyway?" I said quietly, no-one heard me over the loud voices of teenagers all trying to get their sob stories out, all trying to be understood but never listening. "My parents divorced when I was six. I never thought about it much at the time, I was kinda pleased at having two houses to live in, I felt special. Of course at that age you don't really think about other people so I didn't realise that my mom was going nuts. She was such a bitch, she made my life a misery from then on and I didn't know what to do." "Hear that Sylvia? His mom was a bitch. The last time I saw my mom, she was waving at me from an upstairs window. She knew that the building was going down. We all knew and we didn't stop her. Kinda cool way to go, don't you think? You blow yourself up. Don't wait for nature to return you to the pieces you came from, you take control. I ... No-one listened. "So when I was twelve, I finally said to her, mom, I can't handle what you're going through right now, I just can't deal with your emotional baggage, I'm going to dad's for a while, so of course she cried and begged me to stay..." "THE LAST TIME... ah fuck it." What's the point? They'll never hear my message, no matter what I say. It's the action that gets you everywhere in life, it's the extreme that makes the impression. I took Sylvia away. She followed me willingly. "Do I make fireworks for you?" Her eyes shone. "I love you JD" "Then you'll appreciate what I've done for us. Press this button." Her eyes still shone, she wasn't drunk and she knew what she was doing. "What does it do?" I brought her hand down hard on the ignition to the bomb and she screamed with the pain. A few seconds later... BOOM. "There are the fireworks I made for you. Are you happy?" She should be happy. Nobody else would ever have made such a gesture and it would stay with her for the rest of her life. She would never tell. She loved me and she was impressed, she knew I was right. I'm always right, you've just got to open your eyes and see the truth, see the world for what it is, it's wrong and I'm just doing my bit to make it right. And have fun, cause a little Chaos in the process. No-one can stop me now.