Saturday, September 27, 2014
Chapter 1 - An introduction
The streets might as well be empty, the city abandoned, the whole might of civilization an empty husk of its former self. As in the eyes of one man, it basically already is. But perspective has always been a fickle beast. For one it may be teaming with supportive life, a veritable paradise, while for another it's presently a wasteland, made up of the empty hulls of a once great societal bliss. But with that in mind, a most compelling of questions must therefore arise, like the Phoenix rising up from its very own dead ashes. How than, does two people, under similar circumstances, arrive at two wholly different outcomes. Is it the personality of oneself, or the differentiating environments in which they are birthed. As even under such similar circumstances, each life will no longer be exact.
With the situation that Davis currently finds himself in, as he sits upon the patio of the local coffee shop, as the world roams by, he sees it as a sort of alternating course between the two, like a car switching lanes as to get to his/her destination that much quicker. But he has never been the popular child, has never had others run toward him in a delightful craze, as though so happy to see him that all normal functions cease to exist. When Davis' young life started out, everything seemed grand, he had a life any normal child would have, friends, family, loved ones. But as he began to develop into a brewing teenage boy, he found that his brother, John, was the one getting all the glory, all the praise. Not just from his own family, but from the outside world as well.
John, being into sports as he was, was always the more athletic, an therefore the more outgoing than the two. As Davis grew up, he had only seen his brother by himself only a number of times, as he always had quite the entourage of men an woman alike. Any number he could date if he saw fit, at least how it appeared from afar as Davis always was. An as one could imagine, this irked him repeatedly over the years, as though a small vein had presented itself upon his forehead, systematically pushing itself out ward in a most irritating of manners. He often watched him from the sidelines, wondering exactly how he could make friends so easily as he does, like a magic trick that is only known to a select few. Even when, at certain times, Davis tried to imitate him, by playing some form of sports or otherwise, he had still all but failed to gain anything but a few laughs thrown in his direction. Davis can still remember when he was a kid, trying out for the local soccer team. They were practicing at this park just down the road, called Moose beach. All the kids were lined up in front of the net taking practice shots, an even though he never did that badly, a shot here, a goal there, but by no means a Pele of sorts. The other kids could not help but insult every movement Davis may make, whether it be on his part or their own. As in one part of the practice the kid behind him stuck out his foot, while the rest began laughing incoherently as he fell to his knees. An after turning his back slightly away from them, he saw the kids looking down, impulsively laughing with their vile contorted faces. It's a moment that has stuck with him for all these years, as even now when embarrassment hits he can see their young faces, ever laughing as though they have grabbed hold of his very being, as if they are dragging him down to the pit of self doubt, and disappointment. But that is one of many humiliates he has faced since he was but a child. An as he grew older, the few friends he has managed to scrounge up from his journey so far were, as he realized, no friends at all. When Davis was in his late teens, early twenties, he moved in with a friend or two into the city. There were a few signals thrown his way that this was all but a great choice on his part. An as his wallet seemed to diminish, so did their friendship. Which, in short, was how he found himself here, in the midst of this small section of town, surrounded by none other than schoolteachers an classmates, lovers and friends, none of which seem to have an empty hand of their own. But the story that has unfolded so far, is not necessarily a sad one. As over the years Davis had learned to feel comfort in this role that he finds himself, even enjoy it. But one thing is for certain, this is not a role he has chosen for himself, it was a role that was pushed onto him, he, as a matter of fact, just learned to get used to it.
An so as Davis sits their, he can still feel the cold eyes shine upon him, as he once had, the other day, an the day before. Whenever Davis is in such a predicament as he so does now, he often wonders how exactly should he compose himself. How does someone sit in a manner that pleases others in a way as to not think lowly of him. It specifically reminds him of a book he once read, about psychopathic tendencies, an how everyday people may have such tendencies. In it a man in a Mental Institute, that just so happened to have faked his symptoms in order to get their, questions this very phenomenon. He asks, how exactly does someone sit in a sane manner, how does someone eat, read, or do anything to convey that manner to others. He goes on to say that it is much easier to persuade people in believing you are crazy, than it is that you're sane. It makes him wonder, what emotion is he conveying to others. Is he sitting here in a manner that screams loner, is the way he is drinking the coffee in front of him sending out signals that he is alone in this life. Maybe that is why certain things happen to certain people. As he has often wondered why some people have popularity come so easily, while others seem to struggle. Maybe it is like how certain animals give off pheromones to attract their mates. Is he giving off a stink that is only detectable subconsciously. But that makes one wonder even more, in that how does one go an change such a thing that appears to not be driven by a person's own will. It seems as if a impossibility does it not.
Outside, clouds have begun to form, periodically blocking off the sun, giving Davis a small window of relief from the bearing heat. Even the trees off in the distance that seem to be subjugated by the field below, droop over as if in mid death, as if being strangled by the very air that sustains it. While the field in question only serves to bring forth the path between itself an the school before it, that now, in fact, finds itself covered over in kids an teachers of all ages, as they yell an scream in the social order one would come to expect from such people. As some kids that trot down said path, have with them varying degrees of enthusiasm, as they appear to almost wallow in the pity of the gathering crowd that now surrounds them. Much like the mighty Oaks that droop down behind them.