Monday, 19 September 2011

Exit. Chapter 11

I want to turn back to the door, look out, see the rushing students and stare trying to dig into reality.
This couldn’t be possible.
I feel no excited emotion overwhelm me.
I turn around quickly to see a bright red door fade out to white then a gray to match the trees to fade into the distance. I press my hand against the so-called distance. It’s quite real. I feel my eyes devour everything around me in a natural way.
I don’t go around hugging trees.
I just stare. I kick the ground making snowflakes rise along with dust. They don’t feel cold. There’s no winter chill in the air. There’s just… air hanging, as if everything’s still. As if somebody flipped the sand clock sideways.

It feels like a warm autumn, what should autumn be but never is, a stroke.

I tried to ignore the brown boxes far off in front of me. They open up and make houses, they’re gifts, treasures, sacrifices.They couldn’t be houses. The small stage wasn’t as big. That’s it! Realistic decorations, nothing else.

This was real. I began to shiver despite the hot air and crumbling snowflakes under my docs. I walked on, not daring to touch as if it would bend in two or fall or my fear would fall or I would.

I was afraid of something else behind there, something I did not want. Did I want… this? No.

I walked on, seeing smoke rise from the houses, the boxes now in detail, snow surrounding my footsteps and the feeling of my feet in there. I zipped my hoodie, as if it was cold. It was simply a need to believe. I walked on, keeping my hands in my pockets to reach a straight street with houses on both sides. They seemed lonely, until I saw several people pop onto the streets, as if I clicked on a button and they all ran out.


So many unknown faces.

They ran around me, closing all gaps between the houses. So many.

So many laughs. So many conversations. All so friendly.

All ignored me, until I sat down, looking down, trying to understand was it snow or dust under my feet. They stopped. They formed a circle, maybe waiting for the leader to acclaim what a great feast had come. Were they cannibals? I looked up to see them gone. Back. Gone.

Everything was clouded by my fear.

I didn’t want to go back.

I didn’t want to stay.

I wanted to find my own ideal world. My… exit?

“Are you my exit?”

I said that aloud, returning people, letting them scatter, let snow fall more, let the dust disappear, the decorations attack the houses like a virus. I stood up as I watched the city turn into Christmas even if it was long gone. But there was no big fat Santa, there were just the cozy decorations, which I couldn’t admire due to my relative’s constant nagging about how I should build my life, as if I were a Lego person waiting for somebody to build me out of the ruins around me a home, a friend, a lover.

I looked around desperately, trying to find anybody who was in my head, no matter when, even when I liked Robbie Williams several years ago, as I found him attractive. It didn’t matter.

Maybe I didn’t want a lover? A real one.

Maybe this… exit was, like some sort of real reflection of how I wanted everything to be? No annoying classmates coming up, everyone unknown and the faces would change every day so that I’d have no one trying to find out everything possible to gossip about but now they’d clearly fail. No one was stopping me.

No one knew me.

I knew nobody.

I could make them go away with a clap.



Maybe it knew what I wanted. Maybe I couldn’t control it, maybe it was built out of my life, every desire, every eternal desire. I shrugged wondering why of all ideal places my exit would be a small town with the population of Mexico. Either way, despite the word on the tongue, gripping onto the tip, afraid to get out, it seemed fun. It seemed fun to travel in your own dream reality, knowing what exactly you cherished and desired, making it impossibly unreal in a realistic way.

I kept looking around wondering if I actually was searching for somebody or not. Was I? Did I want to see somebody storm the doors and grab me by my waist kissing me passionately?

A box would be a cafe.

I’d seen that in Toy Story, I’d make Toy Story my Exit. It is in a way.

I got my thoughts interrupted by a waitress who asked me what I wanted to order after giving me the menu. The thought of food never hit my head as I entered the place a few seconds ago in a zombie-like way past the doors, past the noisy crowd plunging myself into the couch beside the window.

Was it even possible to earn a place as cozy as this in real life? Usually you’d get kicked out in a polite way or not. Instead I sat looking at the scattered names forming known food. I couldn’t call myself hungry, but I started to hesitate and ordered hot chocolate expelling the possibility of actually ordering beer, which people seemed to order. I glanced across the whole café or whatever it was, making sure that I saw no familiar looking faces which desperately hinted the fact that I should hide under the table in order so that I won’t be found.

“Your hot chocolate, miss.” I flinched. He smirked.

I looked up.

He shot a wave to the waitress, hinting that he took my order. Ruffling his hair as he put both the cups down with a pleased smile, he glanced at me. The owner of the teal eyes looked down, spacing out on his thoughts, maybe regrets. Did he regret meeting me? Did he? I wondered if I should stand up, if I should take the cup and spill it at him, burning his face. The teenager, I think, leaned back into the other couch, crossing his legs, as a smile in the end as he watched my rather easy to read face.

What did I feel?

I played with my hair in slow motion trying to consume the fact that he was here. Maybe he was there when I walked in glancing from the stall in the bar, waiting for this ordinary day to come to an end, shaking the liquid in his cup, his teal eyes looking through items, behind, over, inside, splitting them open.

Who are you?

I wanted to say that but I held myself, ruffling not only my hair but the questions, answers, possibilities and further actions. What was he doing here?

Are you the love of my life?

“Thank you.” Hesitation. Fear. Unknown. Invade. “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”

He smirks, bringing the cup up to his lips, taking a gulp as I watch the upper lip show a hint of the brown colour liquid. Hot chocolate. He licks it off, as I take a gulp. I expect him to stand up, but he doesn’t. Instead he looks down, then back at me, as I suppose that it may be a regular habit of his.

“Mason.” He rubs the back of his neck, trying to accept the next step. Then I realize that he has a name, it prints slowly into my brain, not ruining the image. Mason takes another gulp, looking into the liquid before taking a gulp. “Yours?”

“Roberta. Bo. Call me anything, actually.” My voice hints the fact that I’m nervous. His smile spreads, as if he knew it, but tries to hide it. He presses himself into the couch more in a sign of easiness rather than discomfort, as his facial expression hints that.

“Nice to meet you, Bo.” He sits like that, the smile spreading on his lips as he watches me, the earlier regrets long gone.

“Same here.” I say that, ignoring how cheesy it is, because love is a cheesy thing to those who do not know it. Not that I’m saying that this is not love which I have in my head further planned for years to come no matter what in reality, in my head… or here. Maybe.


Mason and Roberta would truly be the most closest couple I've written like maybe until my current novel couple, but then the new novel has a different topic which I've never touched before, maybe that's why it's taking too long xD

I always liked the Exit. Maybe it would even be mine.

Chapter 12

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