Tuesday 7 February 2012

Sky High Origins-The Evil: Meaningless is more

The Microsoft Windows logo bounced from one end of the screen to the other. He stared blankly at it as the thoughts in his mind swayed like the open sea. Shouldn't there be more to this existence? He thought to himself. Was my life meant to be meaningless? Was I destined to be shackled at this office desk, imprisoned by my job and serve this sentence until I wither into nothing? My life spent serving others, yet providing no kind of satisfaction.
The chatter of fingers typing away at keyboards and the steady hum of the computers had been the soundtrack to his life for a long time now. The same song, day in and day out. All meaningless. He likened it to the monotony of the songs on that MTV his son liked so much. And all for what? To slave at his small desk so that his superiors could pay him his meagre salary and go on lavish holidays? Fat executives always appraising his performance, telling him he needed more passion and flair for his job. 'Passion' he thought. A word created by fools to mask the insignificance of their existence. 'Passion'. His wife had spoken of it as well. She had said their marriage had lacked 'passion'. So they tried for another child to try and bring more 'passion' into their relationship. When he first held his daughter, he felt something close to emotion. But not love or affection. Regret maybe, he wasn't certain. But he felt he had brought another into this world to suffer a purpose-less life. A life like his. A life of no meaning.
The phone at his desk rang. It was Human Resources and the manager had asked to see him. He got up and left his cubicle, almost dragging his feet on his way to the H.R office. He wasn't a very tall man,and he had a lanky frame. His peg-less trousers fit perfectly and matched the sweater he wore. His wife had insisted on picking out the clothes he was to wear each morning. In his opinion,it was all very pointless. What was the purpose of clothes but to hide our nakedness?-the only truth to who we really were. Perhaps there would be more to all this if humanity bore its true self. Instead we choose to cover ourselves with costly designer fabrics and portray false personas he thought. What a sad farce the human race is.
His face showed no indication of what went on in his mind. It was a blank canvas and had been that way for most of his life. He hadn't had many, if any friends over the years. Some remarked that he was 'boring'. Who were they to pass judgement? Who were they to measure his personality by their own flimsy standards? To stand him trial on some drastically flawed charges.
He pushed his spectacles back up the bridge of his nose and knocked lightly on the door of the H.R office.
The Human Resource manager spoke in length about his recent performance. About how meaningless reports had been delayed by him and how the obese bastards claimed he had not been performing well. How could they judge him? He thought. He wished he could poke out their eyeballs and suffocate them all with their overly priced ties. Wished he could staple their thick rubbery skin to the boardroom table and let them starve there. The voice of the Human Resource manager faded out as he lost himself in his macabre fantasy. These horrid products of his imagination had become frequent and many lately, they even dared to be entertaining. A smirk was creeping up in the corner of his mouth when the manager's voice brought him back to reality.
"You're bleeding," the manger said. There was a trickle of thick black liquid snailing down from his left nostril to his upper lip. From where the manger sat, it looked like a blend of clotted blood and mucus. But when he used his handkerchief to wipe himself,he noticed it wasn't blood or mucus. He excused himself and rushed to the gents.
At lunchtime he always sat and ate at a park bench that was opposite the office building he worked from. The sound of vehicles and voices of the populace rode the air. He chewed his food thoroughly and observed the people as they went about their empty lives. He believed they were motivated by trivial beliefs. Money. Fame. To provide for their families. All meaningless. If they were to all die in the end,no memory left of them; what was the point? Traffic was sluggish during lunch hour. He gazed at the people in their cars and taxis, rushing to get back to work or whatever their inconsequential destination was. After all,the only true and final destination was death,wasn't it? Death was the only thing promised to mankind and its immaterial existence. Then the only fair thing was to burn it all down. Watch them all burn to a crisp while their flesh popped and sizzled like the fat pigs they had become. And when there was nothing,maybe the world would implode in its own nothingness. Something close to a smile planted itself across his face. He had amused himself. He couldn't remember the last time he was amused.
Something dropped on the paper bag in his lap that had held his sandwiches. Some black goop. Bird droppings he thought. Cursed birds. But the dripping continued. It was coming from his nose. He quickly grabbed his handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his nose. The thought of seeing a doctor did not cross his mind. He did not trust doctors.
His supervisor did not seem to believe him when he said he was not feeling well and asked for the rest of the day off. He explained to the man that even the H.R manager could verify that he was not well. He was the one that had noticed the nose bleed he had had earlier. The supervisor looked at him and did not say a word, but his expression spoke volumes. He excused him reluctantly.
When he got home,his wife was surprised to see him. He had never taken the day off or fallen sick before. He explained that he was actually feeling better then but would take the day off anyway.
He sat in his chair,letting his mind drift. The television was on,his wife had been watching one of those mind rotting reality T.V programmes. How was it that these people could gather massive audiences and viewers,when it was clear they stood for nothing? Even though he believed standing for something only gave people false hope. False hope that there was sense in this senseless life. Because even those that claimed to stand for something,were only disillusioned cripples. Leaning on the crutches of such fickle conviction.
He got the remote and flicked through the channels. Everything was the same-Pointless, and without reason. He stopped on a news report. Wonderman had saved a factory full of workers from their demise. As usual he had flown in when almost all hope was lost. Wonderman had swooped in and saved each and every worker at lightning speed,leaving them somewhere safe. He plucked a burning transformer with his bare hands and put out the inferno that had spread with his breath. Where would the world be without Wonderman? The reporter had asked.
Wonderman,he thought,only lengthened people's suffering and disillusionment when he rescued them from sure death. He only delayed the inevitable. Stupid Wonderman.
His phone rang. It was the someone from work. As soon as the person from the office began to speak, his daughter started to cry. She wailed so loud he could barely hear what the person on the line was talking about. But he soon realised what the woman was saying to him. All she was doing was sugar coating the fact that he had been fired. Using stupid words. He simply told her he understood.
His wife came in from the kitchen holding the screaming baby. She said she had to cook and it was his turn to watch the baby. His face was blank. He gently took the baby from her while she continued to speak. She talked about how various groceries needed to be bought and how he needed to spend more time with her and the children. She was trying hard to talk over the sound of the baby crying.
He swayed the baby in his arms from left to right in an attempt to ease her crying. His wife shouted on. He kept silent. He was reminded of his childhood;that distant memory of his father and mother arguing. They had made his life miserable. He looked at his daughter's face as the tears streamed down her soft cheeks. No,he declared in his mind. She would not live to suffer a meaningless life. No one would. He then held the child by her ankles,turning her upside down. He lifted his arms higher and her screams got louder. The wailing stopped suddenly when he let go of her ankles and let her drop to the floor with a thump. His wife was at a loss for words as she fought to grasp what had just happened. Only the commentary from the news report on Wonderman could be heard in the room. He stared at his wife. A thick black slime snaked its way from his left nostril. It swayed and dangled in the air like a King Cobra about to strike. And it did. It struck through her throat and exited the back of her head covered in blood. She could not scream,she only managed to gurgle the blood coming up her throat and out of her mouth. He withdrew his black tentacle.
What is happening? He thought to himself. What is this feeling? He hunched over and dropped to his knees as vomit came from the depths of his belly. But it was not vomit. It was more of the same black goo that had been coming from his nose. It seemed to flow like an endless fountain and then covered him entirely. His hate for the triviality of this life had come alive and spewed from the depths of his very being. When he got up,his whole body was covered in the black ooze. Tentacles stood and dangled in snake-like motion all over his body.
The news report on the T.V went on about Wonderman's miraculous feats. How he had saved the people from danger countless times. Not anymore. HE would put a stop to it. HE would end humanity's suffering. As he thought this,the blackness within him festered and he grew in size. He grew so large he crashed through the roof of the house.
Steven Evans left his house a new man. A new being. HE would cleanse humanity of its meaninglessness.

Illustration by the deathly talent that is Lo.


  1. Nice one Benny, though i didnt expect it to end that way...

  2. Thanks dude. But is that a good or bad thing?

  3. A wonderfull tale on the 200th birthday of Mr Charlse Dikkin's. We await another episode

  4. Ultra glad you liked it! I'll have more pretty soon

  5. completely unpredictable, which makes it amazing

  6. Thank you naph! Truly humbled

  7. So i guess u r on ur Steven king tip. Love the descriptions full of detail

  8. I'm flattered lol. Stephen King is the king!

  9. Replies
    1. Thanks bro. And I'm happy you took the time out to go to my old posts!