Thursday, 2 October 2014


The moonlight is dim enough to light the traces of cocaine in the sky which give light shivers of relapsed memories. Biking doesn’t seem the fondest idea either to get there with the backpack filled with stuff and key promised dug under the cage with the chickens. The doors to the other bikes are open, cats are scattered. chickens hidden from under the rain in their barns which my hair and clothing state otherwise.

When I arrive it’s raining heavily and I know it will be empty for the next month and all I think about is a shower as soon as I dig the key out, the mud being far too much like child clay and I can’t help but wonder if anything will ever touch these woods if things get far worse and where even is the human limit after all?

The root of the anxiety is sole, once pulled out, would that be the sole root and how many more harvest shall rot in the future and the fear tag the worst harvest lay ahead is what drives my bones cold. Everything is cold and there are far too many toilets, the washing machine still running and I just yank the plug off, as it spins with nothing inside, maybe to remind the cats of ghosts as they quickly exit the building, maybe I trail things behind me.

I creek up the stairs to find the leaflets and just go under the covers, feeling my hair far too long, the death upon myself on my fingers but when I wake the next day I just know that the bed was too soft and gave me an illusion of some living. 

I think that if I close my eyes deep enough and dark, I will see the door to suicide but instead I head into the room, where teachers once lived in the school below, but I don’t peek in anywhere as I head up to still see some food in the fridge and I heat up the kettle to see nothing besides rain and fog above the rain. 

I make sure to lock the door and I hear people and it’s obvious I’m not the only oblivious one and I open the fridge to see leftover food and I just make an omelette, not caring and sitting on the floor, feeling it’s cold and wishing I could feel the rain without getting wet or a cold, but life tends to give both ways. But as I chew, I think of the people and I wonder and the sole thought that it might be something else, just lets me throw it as the leftovers out as I just try not to think of it. 

There is a point in loneliness when you reach the ceiling and I feel like I’ve reached it, there’s a desire to tell love to those who you’ve never managed to or to those who just haven’t allowed themselves to escape my thoughts and because too much poison had been stirred there is no point of showing up on anyone’s doorstep and saying that there was a point where I felt that I had gotten your love and then we both broke it off. There is simply no point because if the love had no catch to it, then it wouldn’t be a fucking mousetrap and then we would’ve been a couple.

So there is no point.

And maybe that’s why it’s daft to leave but when you live nowhere, it’s even easier to escape and neither had anything happened and that’s why I feel like I’m the reason Maltesers will start appearing in stores. 

They say you can feel someone else’s life upon their lips. I haven’t had so many first kisses in such a long while, that I just ended up opening all doors in the apartment, before realizing that it had dunked into early hours of the morning and bed seemed more like a pill than a solution, but was still chosen. It was far too cold after I had done the bed and curled up, thinking that it was promised to be warmer tomorrow.
Life vanishes after you wake for a long while, even after coffee is drank and no effect is seen on the body and soon enough the sun warms up all the rooms and the attic still gives an eerie feel from the kitchen, but it’s not as if we are ever alone, we all just co-exist and I open the window to look out into the forest, teeth brushed and anxiety starts going around as I even wonder if wandering off into the forest is a good idea with the fact that regardless of where you are the taste is felt upon the tongue even if the only people who speak of war are just headlines in newspapers and people just flee or fight blindly, the country becomes a utopia just like any other country watching. I take my backpack for no actual reason, just to have the jacket on me in an easier way with a bottle of water and a knife, for sole protection and pure anxiety. Maybe get some mushrooms, I’ll see. 

War seems to have lost point in two non-held ideologies and the fall of civilization and hidden cards are in all decks, in the end there’s just those who chose sides idly and those who actually choose which side to actually give their bodies to and it even feels sinful not to participate, but then one’s life takes above because one side is held above the other and the other is just in mental support. 

I walk out to see the chickens emerge from their cage, watching me as I slowly start going away from the vegetables which are no longer harvested, wrapping the scarf tighter and it feels far too chilly and even worse when it comes to the water, I see the cat enter it’s way back into the huge house and I wonder what could I have brought along and I even wonder who even feeds the cat or rather if there is even enough mice in the house. 

I didn’t even notice the bowl but with war going on that even the headlines don’t hide and sometimes I wonder if the sky would go red sometimes, but it’s just the lights of the cities far away which are overcrowded with people actually forgetting the headlines, everything wrapped like a cocoon and pacts made to stay outside and watch, stupidity of those on the front of wrong sides just become flesh and numbers just pile up higher and higher.

I look at the water, looking how some remains still and I wonder if anyone even bikes and falls into the river and how much would the damage be. I keep watching the water until I see some long trail of black skin and I shudder, wondering if it should even be left there, I’m the only one here and I just cross to the end of the bridge, leaves falling stronger with each day as I come closer to the skin to see it shimmer and 

It’s not even the sea. Is there even access to the sea here as I pick up the skin? 



I feel it’s weight and it’s odd texture how it’s not wet at all and I wonder where it’s owner even is and I should be the one to hide it and I just grab it entirely with both hands. It’s a bad superstition to head back if I had headed out.

Fuck. I start hearing footsteps and soon enough they fade out, but I kept hearing everything as I was biking here, nothing is going to be calm even if in the front of the head we’re all calm in our little bubble, eyes are still opened and headlines are read, newspapers bought eagerly and read right away even before groceries are packed. I stick the skin hastily into my backpack and I just feel the wind increase.

Why would a selkie even be in a river?

Where even are they? I start searching my pockets for the cigarette pack as I just try to calmly smoke but I end up chain smoking all three which I had taken with me and still no sign and I figure out that perhaps someone just ended up being the one the selkie was interested and it’s not just people who flee off. 

I start walking up as the last cigarette is nearly done and I nearly run into a fence as I see it up as I keep going up the hill, the selkie skin still feeling awfully heavy as I can’t help but notice the bigger red house and I wonder if the cat ran away from it and I keep walking until I see two figures and that’s when I stop, looking down before I blink a few times. Fuck. 

I take a step back, but I can still observe and I look around to see and I hide behind a tree and I wish I had at least left one cigarette instead I start biting my lip as I observe the two younger men who clearly decided to fuck in their backyard and I wonder if I should leave but the trail would be loud and I would just freak them out and I’ve got the selkie skin and I wonder if any of them even is the selkie and thinking of it, that has to be some very interested in fucking a human selkie. I peek again to see one man riding the other and I just try to take a step back and suddenly I hear all of the noises under my feet and they seem louder than from the two men and I swear in my head. I have no idea how long would they fuck and I live right across the bridge. 

Well, someone unlike me has a healthy sex life, I hope I can’t help but end up watching them, as if it were some porno I just found somewhere stashed and hidden, I watch the riding one pull the other up and the moans getting louder, apparently I arrived far too late and I look up to see the clouds go chaotically nearly in circles. When I look back, there’s still fucking doing it and I feel far too turned on. Well, they gave me enough images for a fucking week and I just keep watching, clutching now a tree branch which was grown far too low, as they just keep fucking each other. 

I sigh and look down and I hear their final screams, I should really jerk off when I get back, I’d been on the road far too long and finding out places where I could stay and just settle at least for quite a while and forget too many things and try to keep the illusion of war real. 

I smirk and roll my eyes as the other non-riding male licks off the stomach of his lover until it’s clean and I wonder how much had they watched their diet and I just slowly start climbing back down and I wonder if they are the only ones in the house and if any of them are the selkie as I still have vivid images of their matching haircuts, sweat going down all their bodies and lips bruised from lips and nail traces on each other and their moans seem to be muting the sound of the river as I get back down. 

“Why were you watching?” And I quickly look back, grabbing the hand on my shoulder and my body starts shaking as I look at the piercing dark eyes and I watch his plain t-shirt and I wonder how come he’s not cold and I feel his rough fingers and he raises an eyebrow as I give myself no etiquette as I trace between his fingers to feel the webs. And here is the selkie. “They were school boys, I think. Of age, but...”

I drop his hand and I just make my way to the bridge. 

“So... are you giving my skin back?” I nearly take off my backpack to give him his skin back and then I just watch him, as he seems too be far too pale and his pitch black hair nearly as icy as his own eyes as he seems to be barefoot and the pants have an odd brown pattern and I just watch him. It’s obvious where it’s hidden, but he’s better company than the school boys, I presume. I just shrug, as if I had never seen his skin. 

“Did you see it?” I shake my head again. He just nods and heads up towards the school boy house and I wonder if I should solely bike into town for more food and I have no idea what I even intend of doing with the skin, I could sell it and see the selkie go after it unless of course they want to remain on land, which is something -

“Why are you in a river?” I yell back at him and he turns around and we’re screaming over the river and I wonder how come there are no cats by my side but maybe there is something in the house. I don’t know even how many prayers I even have to say anymore, I just feel like everyone just sticks together and everyone knows how much blood will be shed, but no one still speaks of it, just watches and the forests know far more how many bones will be crushed and cities destroyed to dusk. 

“It has access to sea.” He says, but I still hear him and I wonder as I watch him head towards the house as I just get back to the chicken barn and open doors until I recall where my bike was left and I just take it onto the road, feeling awful for taking the skin, but if to keep him on land, I have to keep it and hidden from his side. 

Maybe he’d want to go into town?

I get the bike with me as I go back to the river, but I don’t see him right away until I walk down the river to see him looking at the water.

“Do you want to go into town?” I ask him.

“Where’s that?” I just motion to the side where the town roughly is and he just shrugs. He seems awfully uninterested as he watches everything as he follows me and I get a bike for him and he just keeps glancing at the river, keeping his silence. I help him get on the bike and I hold him for a while until he’s ready and he still falls off nearly instantly and I have to hold him again and he gets off the bike.

“I should really find my skin. I’m really not interested.” I scratch my head, my anxiety thumbling with my own senses as I just keep shrugging, the skin just gaining weight like a lie, as if it were gathering water and it’s own anger fueling it’s weight gain. He then looks at me again, trying to find some truth in my clouded eyes and I just look away. “I’m Jack.”

“That’s a fucking odd selkie name. I’m Jamie.” I give him my hand and he shakes it as I feel the webs and the rough skin and he just squeezes harder and I wonder how soft does my skin feel to him or if he even feels it at all. He just glares at my name comment and nods at the introduction. We’re both foreign and it feels like everyone else is and we walk a while on the road through the woods, just watching the cars go in all ways and I would always wonder why would people go and where would they because the town would never hold the amount of cars seen on the road, so where do they all go? Where do all the statistics fit? I glance at Jack again as he motions for me to help him get on the bike again and I make sure that I walk a fair amount as he slowly gets the hang of it. He nags about the skin, but I ignore him and I wonder how much obvious it is that it’s inside my backpack and I wonder how come he doesn’t open it even when I give it to him for a brief while, like a trust test as I check the surroundings as the cars pass in two rows on each side. 


To be honest, I was terrified and I'm shaking because I've been really into writing this story and I've been researching a lot and it's weird to talk about the story when to be honest the full introduction of this story expands into two chapters, so there's more about Jamie and this chapter mostly focuses on Jack to be honest. So I don't know how much can I spoil, so I'll try to be talk more of the backstory.

The setting is highly inspired by the place we are and I kept thinking how I enjoy using settings which I have been in or am, that's why I've got so many stories inspired by locations. The idea was quite old to make a selkie story and I started writing it while I had been depressed and I can't recall, I just really wanted to write another story about depression and I started writing and the idea of Jamie pretty much squatting which he used to do back in the day, seemed like some theme I guess I wanted to use again (I have far too many unpublished started stories which slowly build up  and my thoughts are quite chaotic as I have all the plots running in my head, taking up all my space xD and I just pick up when I feel inspired) and to be honest I am anxious because I've been eagerly writing and researching because there's a lot of other characters and I needed to make sure the whole plot was in place and I researched a lot on Jamie's end as well. 

In general I even asked Callie because Jack as a selkie was a very old maybe a month or so idea of mine or maybe even older. I get many ideas, I'm always thinking, picking up where I left of and I start thinking or I get inspired heavily to do a new story. 

So sometimes ideas get smashed together. And it's weird because this is literally half the introduction and I think 5k is a bit too metal for the first chapter and well, I like how it ends here. In general I really enjoy Jack and Jamie as a pairing a lot. So that's where it comes from. 

There's a lot of houses and I wondered and frankly the idea that Jamie gets in gets explained eventually, so it's not even for me to say if he actually squats or not in the location. 

Also I guess the more you get read, the more the question shows up, how much do I actually reveal? I try to stick to the point but in the end how much do I write in the backstories? Well, all the relevant things, I guess as usual, but sometimes the backstory gets too personal and I've avoided talking about longing or some things in the past or I might go and erase dedications in the backstories or now I'm going through the blog and if I recall some writing process I just edit it in, I guess because graspthesanity has this thing of detailed backstory which I enjoy writing and it's a form of writing as well xD 

I have no fucking idea why did I start writing about cocaine and even now, I cock my head to the side, but I really strictly stick to the whole idea of write it and just edit the typos, I'm quite strict with my no-editting rule. 

In general I feel awfully depressed, I was just thinking about how there's a bunch of those weird relationships which pretty much don't really start, you actually get attached and then nothing happens, the problem is that sometimes we fall in love with the person we want the said to be and then they just fuck it up. I'm awful when it comes to relationships and in general I think I'm awfully strict when it comes to who I talk to, I have my limits and I've broken up too many near dating experiences due to people pretty much hurting me. And it's funny that I've even spoken a lot about it as well, there's the whole even missing and I guess in my case it's just weirder, sorry I'm quite sleepy xD so I kind of took that theme there and in general I write about love a lot. 

I'm really trying not to spoil a lot, but I guess I'm excited because sometimes when an emotion overthrows you entirely off the hook, you just want to write about it, so yay, my longing can fucking go somewhere. And that's where it stops being backstory and I shut up xD 

So there's longing for those who you have lost or you have lost deliberately and those who you long for because well, there actually is something to long for and wait to unfold, have faith, I guess. 

I dunno, I've just been awfully tired and I'm in this weird place where I just have to wait for so many things and it's odd that in general life is an enormous queue of everything.

We actually saw Maletesers and we recalled that story where Jamie Hince said that he bought Worcester Sauce I believe, when he and Alison were recording in Benton Harbor and the store owner thought a British family moved in and he ended up stocking up on British products. I've had people mistake me for a Brit enough in the past few weeks, but I guess I just rubbed off the accent, but then my accent is a mixture of everything, I think I rub off Callie a lot xD 

I thought I touched it more in the second chapter, but I just wanted to do a more disastrous background I guess I don't really talk politics much and sometimes art speaks louder, so this is just me being less than silent and I guess just like I take different back settings I just decided what if we just exaggerate our current world condition and I wanted to give the story a trapped setting and that's pretty much why in the background I decided to do a full blown war and I guess what inspired me subconsciously me and Callie were talking about 9/11 and she had spoken how in Brazil it… just seemed so far and in general I enjoy listening to her speak of Brazil, during 9/11 I had been in London, which was a full blown on terror and the idea that something happened and being surreal tempted me somewhere and now I'm just digging this out of my subconsciousness. Sometimes I don't even fully understand the nature of my backstory until I start writing it here, I frankly zone out and that's why I never understood why people did drugs (your choice) while I was growing up because I knew that I could turn on anything and imagine anything I could. I would do weird shit like turn on Ligeti at 3 pm and write the scariest story ever and then turn on Oasis to bring myself back. I would turn on a few The Cure songs and write to them on repeat, depressing myself to no end deliberately. With age, I don't have to do that anymore XD

Our river is fucking impossible to get close to, but er this is my imagination, building the house and setting a bit more appropriately xD 

I actually while biking always look at the rivers and I wonder how many actually do fall there. I'm an awful insightful biker as you can see xD

Through out writing the whole thing, I was terrified if I was writing the story properly and now re-reading the first chapter I am awfully happy that I see that many things about Jamie start getting hinted a lot, how he feels many things and it's addressed properly in the second chapter, sorry about that but I promise, I dunno, I'm awfully enjoying writing it and fun fact: I have no title yet, so I'm trying to think xD

I was writing Jamie's second day literally with the note (Miles and Alex are watched by Jamie) roughly in those words XD so that I wouldn't forget… the brilliant idea xD 

Actually I edited the backpack, I think, because I had no idea where else would Jamie hide Jack's skin. But like a few paragraphs down, hey, we all break our own writing rules. 

Originally I guess my sleepy state was all when I thought of the idea, yeah, I guess Jamie would jerk off, whatever then as I was writing the scene, I was all… naw, can't bring him to do that, that would be disturbing and originally the scene was supposed to (of course) be more graphic, but no worries, I always have graphic sex somewhere XD and of course Jamie watching is pretty much always inspired by his recording people in a fucking pub story xD I read too many interviews or Callie tells me things she's read. It's odd to think that she used to be a very hardcore Jamie fan and still is, only I think I've overthrown her these days xD 

Aw, fuck this, I'll be open. I wasn't sure, but if I was Jack I'd suspect Jamie in taking my skin as well, him pretty much being the highest likely suspect. xD 

Callie asked me, why did Jamie keep Jack's skin? And frankly the question is pretty much explained, he wouldn't really see Jack again and he can give the skin back anytime. You just get fucked up characters or own curiosity really xD 

Sometimes I have a title, sometimes I don't and I just pretty saw a 500 note and I was like… huh, 500 and I tried to run through my head and if it meant something and to be honest, not really and I like giving titles which have no exact meaning attached. The only annoyance was the Zooey Dechanel movie 500 days of Summer, but Callie was just reclaim the goddamn number XD so yeah

500 it is. And I don't think I had solely number titles so yay XD 

Let's see what'll it mean. xD I have some ideas, but not really spoiling

I honestly hope you enjoyed it as much as I did

If you enjoyed the story please tell me as I was freaking out and not posting anything and just working on this. Then I'll post the next chapter which is also done 8) xD so please tell me if you liked it and yeah

thank you



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