Tuesday, 29 March 2011

Papercut. Fade

He’d still talk to her.

He'd see her through his fingers, threading it all through the dried blood, a wall I had built, sitting across, never touching him, waiting.

He’d talk to her a lot.

He’d cry in the corner, shredding his heart out.

I'd watch.

She seemed to forgive him and so he calmed down.

Just because I had told him.

Up to the point that I realized that there was no Kayleen.

I had looked at myself in the mirror.

It was an anti-muse, a creation, something to keep Norman happy. Nothing else.


They had called it, as I had shown them the red in my hair, screaming, the wound open, leaking upon my hair, colouring it, creating something else, as I had laid, his fingers opening my wound, with another kiss.

I saw her once more, just once, before Norman got her for himself.

I was in the corridor, sketching, my Converse laying lazily as the pencil dug into my bottom lip, causing a nice feeling of pain. I didn’t lift my head up, as she opened the door. She greeted me, straightly after I did, her mind clearly somewhere else as she got rid of her chocolate Converse.

I showed nothing in voice, no annoyance or hint of the relation between her and my split-personality.

“My day sucked…” She goes on, as if she really exists asides from my head. Kayleen didn’t change, she goes on bragging about her day, about her teachers, not touching the subject of her boyfriend. Her voice becomes more than annoyed as she rants on her hated teachers. She’s quitting poetry next year, so she still has months of waits.


Soon to be a famous impressionist, as she says, he draws upon my skin, sketching, needles, read too much Kafka.

I ignore her, gazing on the tip of my pencil wondering when she’ll just go away and go to her boyfriend to keep him occupied. Then she stops, gazes at my white piece of paper scattered with the rest on my lap.

“How was your day, roommate?” She asks as casually as possible, trying to sound polite. Kayleen sits next to me on the floor, her red head brushing my shoulder. I feel a shiver due to the touch. My bond with Norman is still strong, despite the changes, the tangled body and the determinate expression, as I lean back from the kisses I had in my head, as he lays above.

“Ok.” She doesn’t bother about my date as she reaches for her phone to text somebody.

I don’t mind. I’m happy. “How was your date?”

She flushes red, like her hair even deeper, the needle from my hand aches, a pleased smile upon her lips, as she day dreams of her new boyfriend.

“Nice. I liked him.” She answers simply, as she puts a piece of her hair behind her ear, humming some tune which seems rather familiar to me. Rather Norman-esque actually.

“Good.” I snap but then I look at myself.


I couldn't find the right song to write the goodbye.

Thank you,

first of all.

Thank you.

The plot was meant to be well, the main thing was still held, Kayleen being Roman. Only now you can see it clearly.

Oh, now it struck me, fully.

The ending still needs to fill up my head, just like it had once, the first draft finnished on Christmas near five am, the end, as I had layed, after Lola showed up in front of Roman, I had laid to think.

That was it, there was nothing left to tell, as I had thought.

Then I remember while listening to Thom Yorke's Hearing Damage, the thought came to mind

What if there never was any Kayleen?

And that's how the epilogue was born of of a mere idea. Listening to Twenty Years by Placebo, just saying.

Roman didn't have Norman at first, he had radical mood swings, was in his early twenties and a rabid art school teacher, who was supposed to fling books at his students, Richard included, the first scenes ever written with Roman was him hitting, now known as, Richard with a book.

He was supposed to be calmer in the mornings, where'd he'd fall for Kayleen.

Kayleen was the second born characters, like Roman out of brainstorming.

Roman was born in a creative writing class, character development.

Brainstorm, it was the first time I had used it and now use frequently, thank you.

Then the thoughts came, that he could have one, with the heavy mood swings, as I hadn't known that much back then on the condition.

Papercut changed itself three times, the first draft the plot was supposed to be, Roman falling in love with Alice, then Lola moving in and then Roman falling in love with Kayleen.

The first scene ever written was actually the one seen in the epilogue, in script format, as Roman goes home to see Kayleen.

Papercut's inicial name was Paycheck due to a Placebo song, as the name Papercut has slowly creeped into mind making it Paycheck & Papercut, for Papercut to squeeze it out and the chapter with Norman explaining the meaning of a Papercut held strong.

The mirror and the reason behind Norman's appearence was never told in the first draft neither was a suicide attempt. The reason behind the connection between suicide and death is more looked at in the Prologue.

Now what is the prologue?

The prologue follows the lives, until they end of three characters, Macy, Jaidem and Devyn the actor. Death, in it's full form explained and the thoughts of breaking fate and the meanings of pearls which appear in my novel and the story are shown closer.

The final edit contains heavy references and holds a tighter bond to the epilogue, while the meaning of Kayleen is faded unlike Norman's which is brought under the spotlight until he goes blind.

The relation between Kayleen and Norman was changed, Kayleen a mere attraction, narcissism, unlike the first meaning, as his attraction to Macy had merely been first love.

Roman and Norman's relation reminds Devyn's and Jaidem's with a darker light, as their friendship turns to tension and I dare say they share a body if you are inclined to say that Devyn is Roman or Norman.

The confusion folds and unfolds, bringing the question who is who and would Roman be the world entirely?

I talk too much, I know that.

Papercut Prologue/Ladder To The Red Moon Gathering

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