CHAPTER I

You know what?

I’ve always considered myself as a good lover. But now, It occurred to me that actually I never cared much about my lovers. I had such a lust to be in love with someone that I placed random people whom I never cared about into the picture. My picture…

Then again one day, one really got to me. Right out of that painting.

…And he was- Well, who he was, is and will be.

When you paint an imaginary being, you can portray the place and time based on only how you recognize them. The present. Not the past nor the future. Hence the second dimension seems like a timeless place to be. Almost like the purgatory.

And he said;
“I’m in so much pain!”
Collapsed down on the floor, crying right before me.
All of a sudden I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do or say a single thing. Just watching that man growling and suffering. I meant to ask him though, Who are you? Or What’s wrong? You see,
I have just painted this crooked but beautiful creature with my bare hands, using my obscene fantasies. How would he know those things? 

Or did he? 

This was too much. Too much of a responsibility flushing down to my throat and I couldn’t swallow it no matter how hard I tried. I was to tell him those things, I thought. I was the one to comfort this foul being, knowing the unknown. Oh it was sad. Too sad even. For I didn’t want to leave him in vain. 

I was six when I was left in vain as a kid for the first time. 
My grandfather just died in a blink of an eye cause of lung cancer. 
I was four, kind of liked the man. 
He was silent and still. 

My mom didn’t like him much. He died in August that year while my other granddad, mom,
my little brother and I were at our summer house. It was a beautiful place. Everywhere was blooming with purples, reds, oranges… I miss that place to this day. 
Too bad she sold the place later on. 

That day, the very day we got the phone call; my other granddad have just made me a little garden full of purple flowers. Wish I could remember the name of the kind… And we head back to the city right away. It was two days drive from the summer house to the city. Me and my brother asked “Why are we going back early?” tons of times. She never answered. 

Here we were, back at the city. As we walked through the door. Mom and dad started fighting. Usual stuff, didn’t care much. But, she was right this time. We’ve been gone for two months and there were ants everywhere. I mean how could you manage that really? Being a big man. Well, that was all for the night. I woke up the next day. Eating cereals, watching Tv. Mom said “Olivia, could you come here for a second?” And then she said, “Olivia, your grandfather just died the other day, he had cancer for the last three months. That’s why we came back.” I asked “What type of cancer?” She answered and gave me the task to talk to my little brother as his big sister. I did. He cried. I comforted him then. 

It was okay for me really, I never knew my grandma from mother’s side. She died out of cancer the year I was born. But instantly losing someone to death for the first time, even if you’re four makes you wonder what’s beyond. So, I started to ask questions every now and then. There had to be someone who had all the answers. Mom was strict. She said no one knew and death is the final and I shouldn’t question it. I said that I was afraid. She said “People claimed that there’s a god. An all-father, who knows everything and protects his children. Humans. 

People created such fiction because they’re afraid of the unknown. So, if you are afraid you could try and talk to him. But, remember fear is for the weak, so is God.” She kept on talking about how foolish it was to fear death for six months in a row. Meanwhile, I was on my sacred quest to find God and ask him all the questions I have. Because, obviously Mom didn’t want to answer them. Well, I never found him. I was six by the time I had a near-death experience and completely convinced that God was a fiction. There you go, I was left in vain for good.

After a while it gets ‘Okay’. You get used to everything. Humans are strange creatures it’s so easy to fool oneself. I think I kind of mastered it. I am the hopeless romantic one moment, and the next -if I don’t want that anymore- you might as well just die I wouldn’t care. But, I wanted to care! Both the times I liked and I despised. I needed the real thing. Because this way there was no way to remain humane and sane. I knew myself, but most importantly I knew my kind. What I was before and what I could become if I kept being lonely like this. 

He said, “Help me.”
There that was, an actual attempt of communication. It was an expectation. I paused for 
a second, my hands shaking. I left the room. Went right to the kitchen. Took a bunch of painkillers hoping  I was hallucinating. Turned around, he was standing by the door.
I screamed, he growled. That sound of fear and agony combined, I never want to hear 
that again. Might as well forget it. Wish I could, but I never forget. Ever…  

CHAPTER II

Thank ‘God’ those painkillers worked. He slept for 20 hours straight. And I had some time to admire the masterpiece of my imagination in flesh. Laying on that couch, he seemed so… Everything, I don’t know how to describe this. For one second you are wild in your imagination puking out all your secret desires that you don’t even confess to yourself. Because simply they are all lies. The next, he’s right in front of you shaking and aching.  He was safe as a painting. Lifeless, merely a shell for me to contain my emotional hunger without the potential of breaking my heart. Just a fetish object for me to enjoy. 

I’m watching the way his chest moves up and down. Gentle. His neck with all those veins underneath. If you stare long enough, you could almost see the blood flowing through. Hands so elegant but firm. Long fingers… I got a little closer. He actually had his own smell. It was- soothing, but as in the case of sea. Refreshing, vital, honest yet edgy. 

Skin, so pale -well I’ve painted it- you couldn’t say whether it looks noble or sick. Seeing this man in the third dimension this close, made me question my tastes there for a second. With everything he appears to be; a flat chest, long neck, pale skin, gauntness and so on was tickling in me. As if it was a bad ironic joke. You admired this person in vanity. 

Now I think he resembles the Yew. It’s the kind of tree that Yggdrasil myth was inspired from. Because it looked so fragile and old and tiny. Tall much like a crooked spindle, yet it was one of the strongest trees which could withstand most possible climatic conditions. Yes, that’s what he was. 

And now I was nothing but anxious again after such a long ‘nap’ he was finally waking up. Staring at me, silent. His eyes were glowing in the color of amber. Mesmerizing but mad. Madder than I could ever be perhaps. All I could do was to whisper, “Morning”. Then a long pause no answer. So, walked back up to the kitchen to brew some coffee. 
That was the best I could come up with, 
coffee and cigarettes. 

Guess who was right behind me when I turned by the door? 
“I assume you can speak English as in the case of yesterday. 
So, who are you?” 
“Yesterday?” 
“It’s been 20 hours since you’ve appeared out of nowhere 
in my apartment.” I just couldn’t help being annoyed by him. 
He looked down helplessly the second, 
and that look in despair just hurt. 

I believe coming to life itself is as helpless and tragic as dying. You observe the same kind of despair and humiliation while going through both traumas. He was going through that. Walking around like an extraterrestrial scarecrow. Sniffing and touching and licking everything. Never said a word. Neither a single answer nor a question. Then all of sudden he just walked out of the front door and I never saw him again for a long-time. And I knew then either I was schizophrenic which was totally cool or this was one of those… 
Doomed to remain in the dark for I know. 
He told me later, after many years. 
That was the day he died.

The End