|He Was the God Inside
Author: The Magician Joseph PM
I wanted to start writing stories with likable characters again, so meet Leon. A man who knows his shadow, and his other selves, see the torment of his life. Excess is the road to destruction.Rated: Fiction M - English - Chapters: 7 - Words: 6,815 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 1 - Updated: 06-26-07 - Published: 03-04-07 - id: 2328984
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
He is the god inside, the god outside, the man that all praise, fear, and lust for. The man who hides behind dark sunglasses, the man you fear, the man you love, the man who isn't even really a man at all. Not a man, but pain and emptiness, one who conveys being a slave to all the vices, and none of them all at once.
He is the deifier, and the sanctifier all at once; he epitomizes humanity, the very nature of duality. A man who knows his shadow and his id, the doer not the sayer, this man looks from the corner which he stands in, reveling in his own existence.
Leon peers from behind the dark windows of his glasses, watching the dead life of the party, girls like wraiths gliding across the pulsing dance floor, men like memorial statues brooding in corners looking at the girls with the hunger of carnality. Leon watches the girls also, twirling and dancing, bodies of potential pleasure or agony, as John has assured him that damaging the already broken was more fun than saving them. Though Leon liked to consider himself more of a savior than a monster, a role reversal never upsets him though.
John approaches him, John darker, slightly shorter, his friend John, "How's it rollin' brother??" John asks smiling, sneering, and frowning all at once, nearly indiscernible beetle eyes dancing under shadows.
"It's not John, I feel like I'm in a cage." Leon says, suddenly he can't really feel himself; John usually does that to him. John did, and made Leon do a lot of things.
"Well my brother," John says, fake friendliness dripping from his voice. John is everything, the pusher, the pimp, the shaker, the mover, the whore, the slut, all at once. The only thing John never is, is the victim, a role he didn't know how to play, "You should be out finding yourself a lady, remember hit it and quit it. None of that romantic bullshit, no knight in shining armor."
Leon fell inside himself, he doesn't want any company tonight, he doesn't want any company tomorrow, he doesn't really want to deal with John, but he doesn't have a choice. He just wants to make some sense of the cage around his head, but everybody seems to see this, and they want to melt him. Whether a quick fling, or relationship, both boys and girls want long nights, sex, and confessionals with him, he wants none of them.
He does want a cigarette though; he procures one from his pocket and lights it drawing the nicotine into himself. Leon remembers that how when he first started smoking how much of a rush it had been, that mixed with caffeine, and sleeplessness. It was like he was on the fringe of a discovery; all he really was at though was the beginning of a plateau. At this beginning stage of his life Leon had felt like he was really touching the tip of something big, like he was taking a pick to the iceberg, and then he met John.
Leon is at a party a messy affair being thrown at an acquaintance's house, he is stoned which is a new experience for him, he doesn't like it, but he is doing a good job of not showing it. He roams around through the madness of food and music, and then he sees who he would later learn is named John staring over the shoulder of Leon's girl a bubbly brunette creature named Jackie. Leon feels enraged that someone would so brazenly peer at the cleavage of someone who was obviously not theirs so he approaches John preparing himself for a fight. The first thing he notices about John is the ethereal quality of him, the way he moves and talks is airy and fast, he seems blurred like someone had run a wet paintbrush over his features. Leon figures it is because of the marijuana in his brain that John seems that way, yet the next time he will see John he is sober, and John will still seem blurred.
Leon tells John that he shouldn't stare so hard at a girl he might burn a hole through her breast, the girl giggles she obviously hasn't seen John staring her down. John's reaction surprises Leon.
"I'm sorry my brother." He says grinning through yellow teeth that look like rows of corn planted in his tar tortured gums. "I didn't know… Hey but I do know you, your Leon. Your name has been passing up and down the halls here you know? Cool new kid, real stud, I can see where their coming from." He pokes Leon in the ribs jokingly, yet the gesture just frustrates Leon.
"I'm having a real hard time focusing on your eyes." Leon says, he doesn't know why he blurts that out, odd as it may seem he just can't see John's eyes.
"Must be the dope my brother." John suggests causally, yet later even when Leon is sober he still can't see John's eyes that well, "Sometimes they lace that shit you know."
John pulls out some marijuana from his jacket pocket a dirty leather jacket that reminds Leon of one he had once owned, "Speaking of, hey let me make up to you my naughty eyes." John purrs.
Leon stirs back to the present that place he was just at had been so long ago, but with John around things seem painfully longer than they really are, John always wants to help, but he has a way of making things much, much worse.
Leon's girl had since left him; she had walked in on him making a mistake. John is still around, John loves him no matter what mistakes he makes, and in fact John seems to love him for the mistakes he makes.
Leon wipes his brow, the room is beginning to get hot and sweat trickles down the shiny slope of his forehead, it should be stat that John isn't a person. It had taken months for Leon to figure it out, John is part of him. Not in a schizophrenic way, Leon isn't seeing visions through his second set of black tinted eyes. No John is a different part of him, Leon has discovered that the soul is really too big for just the mind or the body, just one personality. John is another part of his soul, a projection that only Leon can see, but John is real, not a delusion, not a twist ending to a poorly written script. John is a fact of real fucking life.
Leon drags on his cigarette allowing billows of white clouds to escape from his nostrils, "Leave me alone John, I'm in no mood for your disgusting philosophy."
John shuffles his feet, sweat builds up in pools under his Hawaiian button up, "Man I'll leave you alone when you go out and start dancing with some chicas." He returns.
Leon throws his cigarette on the ground, crunching the butt against the cold dance floor with the heel of one of his Converse "old schools" a type of fashionable flat soled shoe. He sighs looking around at the wraiths on the dance floor throbbing to generic techno, or the moan of Manson. "If that's what it takes John." He says defeated.
He steps onto the floor, feeling the pulse of the heart beat of the music, the energy, the liveliness that had ceased to excite him long ago, a young wraith with brown skin comes and pulsates on him, and he joins her. They writhe in the madness of youth and sex singing through the air, all around them, like a swarm of insects, herd mentality it's easy to do crazy things when a hundred others are.
Leon smiles, the girl thinks it is to her and she pulls her full lips back in a smile also. Leon isn't smiling at her though he is smiling because John is gone for a while, and he wouldn't be alone tonight, without John watching the prospect of company seems quite nice.
"Got plans after the dance?" He inquires.