I have come to love Streaming.
However, it does make it difficult to keep my train of thought in crowded areas such as the city. I never know when someone will enter my mind as they did before. This is why winter became such a pleasant time for me. Because unlike the summer and fall I did not have the constant hum of the surrounding fauna in the back of my head at all times along with the thoughts of others.
After reading up to this point, and knowing what it is I can do, you may be wondering why it is I tried so desperately to keep the thoughts of others out of my head for so many years. The best answer I can give is the influence of parents over their children can have a powerful affect on the mentality of a child.
I was the only child of an elderly couple, secluded from the rest of the world in their activities, thoughts, and living. The only comfort they had in this world did not come from one another, but the word of Christ, which was preached to me through the steady, stern, beatings that can only come from those of a seasoned farmer.
They were well beyond the recommended years to have children, but for their entire life together they wanted a child, and worked very hard at having one. Not because they wanted someone they could love and bring them closer together, but because they wanted a little person who would carry on their name and religious teachings, a person that would be as steady as themselves in their walk on the narrow path of righteousness in a world of sin; instead I was born. Ask and ye shall receive.
According to my parents I was a child possessed of a sin they would/could not tolerate. They believed my ability to Stream and hear the surrounding trees came from Lucifer himself. I tried to explain to them the voices that would not allow me to sleep at night, showed them the stories of other people’s thoughts after the strangers had come and gone, the constant feeling I had of others in my head, and they attempted to persuade the demons from my mind the only way they knew how; to break me with labor and consistent beatings by my father as my mother stood idly by reading scriptures and calling for a savior that would never come. They were unsuccessful.
During these times of believed exorcism I was forced to stand naked, leaning against my bedroom wall with my arms and legs spread as far apart as possible. I was not allowed to move as my father caused impact after impact, hit after hit with such force from a leather strap used to secure the livestock that I was knocked from the mind of my enraged father to the pain being unleashed on my body. I could hear fragments of phrases and scriptures over the sound of my own beaten flesh as my mother read from her Bible. Eventually, after nearly an hour of relentless preachings from on high his anger and muscles would be exhausted, my mother’s voice would fade away, and my welted and bruised body would be kneeling on the floorboards not knowing where or who I was, only the definition of pain.
“Only God has the ability to look into man. All others are false,” my father would say as sweat dripped from his shirtless torso. I learned to keep my abilities a secret and hide my accidental slip ups in the confines of my Bible, the only possession I was allowed to call my own. However, no matter how hard they beat me, or how physically exhausted I was when I was set free from their wrath, the voices would always return, sometimes stronger than before. And it is those voices, not the hard hand of my father, or the intolerance my mother had towards her evil son, that made me believe in a heaven and a hell.
It was years later, after I had left the torturous confines of that house, and began searching for a couple I would never find, that brought my mind to the body and soul of a man named Charlie Wilkins as it passed from this world to the next. The Streaming happened without warning, as it always did, but it was the thoughts of a man as his body lay dying and his soul left this existence that made me believe in a higher power rather than the chastisement of my parents. I am not sure exactly how it occurred, but my mind traveled to the afterlife with a man who would not make the return journey home.
Heaven or Hell
The movement of steel atop frictionless steel was the only sound Charlie Wilkins could hear as shadows of slow moving bars across grey cement floor came to a halt, with a snap and click of a prison cell lock down. Charlie stared, absent of thought, through the rough with time bars; through the bars across the void of bottomless darkness; across the void and into a cell the exact same width, diameter, and solitary isolation as his own. He stared without blinking, without comprehending, feet together, hands at his side, head straight, and face expressionless when, all at once, five senses returned to proper working order and brought life back to his seemingly dead limbs. His eyes blinked, and with the impact of eyelash to closing lid, screams of sorrow and despair rebounded through the bars, and off the walls to bombard his ears. Although his eyes remained affixed to the world outside those emotionless bars, his face no longer held an expression of calm tranquility as the dimness of the impending surroundings came into focus, causing the illusion of walls closing in around him to become an absolute certainty.
This was not the living room he was sitting in less than ten seconds ago.
To his left, an empty, blank, grey cement wall; to his right, the same impenetrable blandness of grey; beneath his scuffed, never before polished, but still laced shoes was the same grey cement that occupied the ceiling above his head. In front and behind Charlie Wilkins saw steel bars, a grey wall, and a stranger in a black trench coat with a single unlit cigarette dangling from his white, chapped lips.
As Charlie squinted through the darkness, and the cloaked figure came into view, the quiet stranger spoke the haunting words he would come to understand the full magnitude of in the approaching constant present.
“Welcome to Hell.”
Charlie did not respond. Instead, he simply looked and studied the individual before him. At first they did not immediately make eye contact, but as Charlie continued to stare the coated stranger looked up from the ground, locking on to his gaze. As Charlie looked into the eyes of the unknown man, he realized there was something more to this man’s appearance than what immediately met the eye. Something darker, something evil he was unable to define, but knew without saying. Unable to look away, his gaze was drawn deeper by an unknown force of curiosity. As their eyes continued to connect, a stiffness grew in his chest, making it seem as if a blanket had been wrapped around his ribs to slow the quickening beat of his tell tale heart. The air in his lungs became an empty vacuum of ice, leaving him breathless, and stepping towards the only possible escape that was locked and preventing him from any exit.
“I wouldn’t do that just yet if I were you.”
Not listening, he turned, hands gripping the bars, gasping for air. In doing so he looked outside his cell to the underworld below.
Instead of inmates trapped in cells awaiting for the moment when their bars and locks would open to allow them a few moments of fictional freedom, while remaining behind chain linked fences and barbed wire. Instead of a floor he believed would become the path to the life he created for himself he saw an infinite dead end. Instead of blindingly bright orange jumpsuits and fictionalized Technicolor dreamscapes of dulled spoon breakouts, he saw a darkness more horrible than any Hollywood land studio could create through their safe barrier of bright lights and green screens of manufactured imagination.
To the left, right, and far below, men and women, the old and the young, whites and blacks, red skins and brown skins, people of wealth and people of poverty were trapped in 9x5 cells that encompassed his entire field of vision, creating a well of lost souls that descended so far down the grey bars and black abyss compressed into a single black hole of terror. Some cells contained only one person, standing solitary and alone, screaming for any companion to quench their need to no longer feel lonely. Others looked as if they would explode arms, legs, and lungs, reaching and yelling for any relief from the tears, cries, anger and sadness that filled every square inch of the cell. There were no prison guards to keep the peace, no floor that would lead to an eventual escape. There was only cement and steel that descended into shadow.
However, not all was in darkness.
Above, rather than despair and torment, there was hope in the form of warmth and light billowing up, over, down, and into itself. Rays of gold, masked by consistent slow moving white cumulus, shined down from on high to rob the last semblances of peace from the already despairing individuals who not only had to live in Hell, but look up to a Heaven they could never touch, no matter how hard they stretched.
“I told you not to look.”
Startled back to the world behind the prison bars, Charlie wiped tears from his moist cheek as best he could, but the hollowness of emotion remained lodged in his chest as the impact of his situation became more of a certain reality.
“You weren’t ready to look.”
Charlie remained standing with his back to the stranger while shaking his head. The air had not yet returned to his lungs. “All those people…all those people trapped. I don’t understand. What is this place?”
The stranger slowly, methodically, breathed in through his unlit cigarette, staring a hole into the back of the new inmate. “I think you know.”
Unable to take the intermingling sight of beauty and hideousness before him, Charlie turned back into the cell to look into the shadows. The stranger remained silent, leaning against the back wall. Charlie continued to shake his head in disbelief while attempting to make sense of it all. He looked from left to right, hoping to see answers that were not there.
“How did I get here?” Charlie tried as best he could to remember the last moments of his life “The last thing I remember is sitting in my living room, watching TV while eating dinner and…”
“What were you eating?” the stranger asked as if it were a normal question given the circumstance.
“What?”Charlie looked up in confusion.
He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth to speak with more clarity. “I said, what were you eating?”
The question seemed too absurd to answer. “Does it matter?”
The stranger shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t. Odds are you choked on your food. Maybe you had a heart attack, or, better yet, were shot in the back of the head by a wife who secretly despised you and had been fucking the mailman for the last five years.”
Charlie stared at the stranger. His head began to reel. “What are you saying? Are you saying I’m dead?”
“Unless you know something I don’t, that’s the only way you end up here.” The stranger took a puff of absent nicotine. The knowledge of his dismal surroundings, rather than the common comfort of his living room, became more and more real with each passing moment causing anger, frustration, and confusion to rise in his always complacent demeanor. He turned back to the bars in sheer panic, to join the screams of the countless others.
“Someone let me out! I’m not supposed to be here, there’s been a mistake. LET ME OUT!!”
He shook the bars for freedom. The stranger laughed at the man’s ignorance.
When no possibility of an answer ensued and the door refused to budge, Charlie turned back to look at the man shrouded in darkness. “Do you know what all this is, or why I’m here? For certain?”
“For certain? No. I know nothing for certain, but I do have my suspicions.”
“What would those be?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No, it’s not.” Charlie grew anxious for answers.
The stranger laughed, taking another slow drag of the useless tobacco before answering. “That this, this cell, these bars, the people, the screams, all of it, including the clouds above your head is Hell and all of us are trapped in it.” The stranger continued to look to the ground as Charlie stood in silence listening to the answers being given to him, shaking his head in disbelief.
“No. I don’t believe it.”
“Like I said, it’s just my suspicions.” Charlie stood in silence unable to comprehend what lay in front of him. The stranger looked up and studied the average blue collared man standing before him, before smiling something sinister.
“I know what you’re doing,” the stranger said. “I’ve stood where you are standing. I’ve gone through the mental checklist of where I was when I ‘bit the big one’ in your case, what I was doing, what this place possibly could be, the possibilities of mistaken identity, everything and anything, including the wanting.”
Charlie looked up in confusion. “The wanting? What do you mean the wanting?”
The stranger looked up into the questioning eyes of Charlie. His stance did not change and his back remained against the wall. “You know what I mean. The wanting. The wanting to not only look and admire what we can only assume to be Heaven from a caged cell, but to actually be there. The wanting to be some place warm, soft, and full of color rather than trapped in this cold box of cement. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I saw it in your eyes as you looked up and those pretty little tears fell to the ground. I know because I did the same thing. I screamed to be let out, believed that they had made some sort of mistake, that I wasn’t supposed to be here, but no matter how loud I screamed no one came. No one ever comes.”
The stranger stood quietly as the echoes of misery bounced off the walls and down into the thick darkness that no light could penetrate. Both men stood in silence, one with his back to Hell and the other with his on it, staring at the other.
“What happened next?”
The stranger gave a crooked smile of dingy teeth and a chuckle as his gaze shifted back to the cement floor. Feelings of apprehension returned to Charlie as he took a half step back.
“Nothing happened. Nothing ever happens. That’s the problem. But there’s no reason for me to tell you all this. You’ll see soon enough. Because you will scream, you will wale, go insane, try and hurt yourself just like all the others, but soon enough you’ll come to grips with the situation just as I have, and all those people eventually will.”
A scream of agonizing torture not far away caused Charlie to jump, rocking the foundations of his twenty one grams of immortality. The stranger continued without flinching.
“Let’s take this cigarette for example.” He held it up as if it were the primary evidence in a defense case and Charlie was the judge and jury. “Do you know how many times I’ve thrown it out of this cell and into that bottomless pit behind you? Me either. I lost track around seven hundred thirty six. However, let me assure you, this cigarette is not the only thing I’ve thrown over into the void below. I’ve thrown my clothes, my jewelry, and tried killing myself by wrapping these necklaces around those bars, strangling to death. After each and every one of those instances I blinked and awoke to find everything and myself returned to the way it was; breathing, fully dressed with this cigarette in my mouth, and no closer to getting out of this hell hole”
Charlie stood with his back to the cement bars wondering if it hurt to die for the second time, but said nothing. The stranger took in a few deep breaths, calming himself he looked down at the cement floor and put the cigarette back to his lips. Smiling, he murmured, “At least I’m not up there.”
But Charlie’s mind had transitioned into auto pilot as his mind remained in a constant loop of replaying the moments of his life, looking for any indications of why he was there and not where he believed he should be. He looked back and knew he wasn’t the best, or the most honest person in the world, he knew he made mistakes the same as everyone else, but he was still a good man, wasn’t he? He went to church with his wife when she decided they needed to. He never took any risks for fear of failure. In fact his life was the test book definition of ordinary. He did what his parents told him as a child and even now never questioned their authority. He went to the college they wanted him to, married his college sweetheart, came home to his wife every night, and went to work every morning. He never made a wrong decision. He always followed routine. Going through it all he knew there had to have been some mistake. He never committed any crime, he wasn’t the most religious, but he was no criminal. He deserved to be let out. This train of thought and realization brought him back to the consciousness of screams and lost souls. “What did you mean when you said ‘At least I’m not up there?’”
A slow, menacing smile spread across the stranger’s face. Taking the unlit cigarette from his lips, while keeping his eyes closed and head towards the ground, he pointed it to the cement ceiling above his head. “Up there.”
Charlie looked up to the ceiling. “Up where? In Heaven? Why wouldn’t you want to be there?”
The stranger shook his head and opened his eyes to the afraid man in front of him. “No. Up there, in the very top cells where you can see everything, the majesty, the beauty, the amazing grace, everything clear as day. To be so close you can taste it, but still be trapped in a cage would be too much for even me to bear.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because up there you can’t escape the reality of your fate.” Charlie still looked confused. The stranger stood up, off the wall, to explain. “The reality that you will never get out of this cell to be with your friends, your family, and love ones. Up there you are reminded of your place and how it’s not with them, while down here you can hide from that light, those clouds, and the feeling of being inadequate. That’s why I stay back here, away from those bars and everyone’s screaming for what they can never reach. You see, what sets me apart from them is I know I’m never going to leave this cell so I refuse to be reminded that others are in a better place than I am.” He breathed in deeply on the cigarette to calm his agitated nerves.
“In my opinion the best place to be is down there, in the darkness. Down there it’s like being back on Earth. It’s true, you can’t see for shit, but what’s the point in seeing in this place? I’d rather be deaf, dumb and blind. Down there you don’t know where you are, why you are there, or that heaven or hell even exists for that matter, just like on Earth. Everything is a mystery and you’re not left wanting. Not like here. Not like in this Hell.”
Feeling as though he had gotten his use out of the cigarette he flicked it towards Charlie, through the bars, and down into the void. Charlie watched as it plummeted into oblivion, falling without cause or care past the flailing arms outstretched from forgotten cells only to turn and see the cigarette back on the cracked lips of the trench coated man.
“So why are you here?” the stranger asked, taking another puff of the cigarette as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Did you figure it out yet? Was it because of some adulterous affair, drugs you experimented with back in college, or, maybe, your relentless torturing of small animals as a kid?
“I’m not supposed to be here,” was all Charlie could think to say.
“Right. That’s what they all say,” the stranger said as he laughed. “That’s what I said. I went through everything in my head justifying all of my decisions, but in the end it doesn’t matter. There is no need to lie to yourself. You’re already dead. So, out with it. Why are you here?”
Charlie became more and more frustrated with each condescending remark from the hooligan in front of him.
“I’m not supposed to be here.”
A snap and click came from the door at Charlie’s back. He jumped forward to watch in wonder as the bars created an open hole that could lead to his freedom. “What did I do? What happened?” Charlie stared in confusion. He looked back to the stranger for answers, or, at the very least, a heightened reaction, but he stood in silence before raising from the wall. “What should we do?”
“I don’t know, Charlie. You tell me.”
“I don’t know, you’ve been…how do you know my name?”
“There are a lot of things we know about you Charlie,” the stranger said as his face was illuminated by the tip of the now lit cigarette, exhaling white smoke. “But none of them are of any importance right now. The important question is, what are you going to do?”
Charlie stood, paralyzed by fear and horror. “What’s going on? What is this? Who are you?”
The stranger walked towards the open cell door. In the fraction of an instant the stranger grabbed Charlie by the throat and threw him against the grey cement wall with such force and speed, Charlie lost all sense of cognitive ability as all the air escaped his lungs and none was allowed to take the place of its leave of absence.
“What are you doing here?!” the stranger yelled, cigarette falling from his lips to the floor.
“What?” Charlie moaned while trying to fight off his attacker.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? The stranger shook the air from Charlie’s lungs as he pounded his back against the wall while squeezing his throat shut. Charlie tried to speak, but no words came. There was no more air to propel thoughts from his brain to his murderer, and no strength to keep his eyes from closing and the world from going black as he fell lifeless to the cement floor.
The stranger stood above him, breathing deeply. The cell door remained open. “You need to make a choice, Charlie.” Reaching down and picking up the man with the ease of a child’s backpack, he threw Charlie through the open door to the darkness of screams below. Coming to consciousness before passing into shadow, Charlie looked up to a dream of light and beauty blurred and impossible to reach as he fell further into depths of Hell, until, after a moment, the movement of steel atop frictionless steel was the only sound Charlie Wilkins could hear as shadows of slow moving bars across grey cement floor came to a halt, with a snap and click of a prison cell lock down. Charlie breathed in deeply, filling his empty lungs with billowing white fog as his eyes opened to a blinding light of gold and white. Rather than screams of pain and agony filling the empty space between the bars there was silence and underlying whispers of strangers and forgotten loved ones. Outside was a blockade of compacted incandescent white that revealed only the movement of shadows and light by people he would never meet or see. Inside, was something much more tangible and terrifying, adding fuel to the pervading stagnant mist of forgotten memories and lost moments of joy, never to return.
“I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”
Charlie remained forward as tears blurred the dream outside his reach, making the nightmare more of a reality in knowing he was beyond the need for screams and wishes of darkness rather than light. He was in Hell.
