Short-stories, the compendium

Red as night sky

While sitting in the park, and pondering over life and its mysteries, I was not so different from the next person. You could pull anyone aside, and ask them the age-old question "What is the meaning of life" or "Where do we come from? Where are we going?" and you would get just as many different answers, as the amount of people you've asked. Is it impossible to find an answer then? I suppose.

The summer air gently kissed my skin, removing the stinging intrusion of the bombarding photons, like it would on any other. My silent partner at my side did not look the slightest affected of the chilling air, even though he was sat in the shadow. I was not even sure if he had goosebumps, but he could just as easily have been less susceptible to cold, compared to me. After all, I had preferred the hot summer south, running on the beaches, while the waves resonated in their rhythmic way, that only a miracle of nature can. And in almost the same way the leaves rustled calm in the wind, just as irregularly calming was the sound of the city. Cars honking horns, sirens wailing, hotdog stands sizzling with fat-filled sausages.

I tried to recall the night. I could almost feel it all again. The night sky, and the chilling winds of the rooftop looking over the ever-evolving city. The fresh air, that caressed my nostrils, filling my lungs with a calming coldness, that one must experience, to know just how the slowing of your heartbeat, the dopamine, the adrenaline, yes how it all plays together.

I jolted back, as my head fell back slightly. I could not help but chuckle at how I almost fell asleep, beside my silent companion. Looking back up at the warmth of the burning, nuclear ball of hydrogen, the caressing had become more violent, almost like a lover in the night, as the calm cuddles turn to a soft scratching under the sheets. Not because they are angry, or meant to harm the loved one. It is simply natural to express emotions more intensely. Is that not the meaning of life?

I remembered my face staring back at me, how it was pale as the moonlight, filled with renewed energy. I could not remember when I last felt so alive, as any other would have, should they have found themselves where I was, in time and space. What I experienced there and then, it would have invigorated any other.

The man beside me, my silent companion, had yet to move. It struck me as odd, as the sun had descended down behind the tall buildings, creating an almost night-like shadow. the man beside me wore a green t-shirt, a weird logo of some kind, predominating the front. With his ripped jeans, it seemed as if he had never worn anything else for his entire life. He had a beard, salt-and-pepper-like, sort of scrawny, as if he had not shaved for a few days. He sported a pair of sunglasses, so I could not see his eyes properly. And thanks to his big knitted cap, that went as far down as to his sunglasses, I could not see his hair either. Not that it mattered anyway. He was just as normal as anybody.

Again, the dosing and hazy night flooded my mind. I felt the quick flashes of red, hitting my retina, the colour blurring out all else. The else hazy white moon had turned red. Like a blood moon. Painting all red, even my face. All was red. Red. Red. Anyone would have felt the redness penetrating. I felt it, it was able to dull out all else. My smell, my taste, my sense of feeling. All red. I did not know it was possible to taste red! Not until last night. I could hear red. I could feel red. Think, red. Is that the meaning of all? Red?

A sense of a cold, sharp pain running through my body, removing the red. The sky had turned dark once more, but the moon had once more turned to its boring white haze. The stranger still sat beside me. He had not moved an inch. I could feel the cold night corrupting my body. I shook lightly, yet I felt like I needed to check on the stranger, and so I pulled away his sunglasses. His eyes looked into mine, and past them. His gaze was dead, and the colour... The colour. Red.

I once more felt the rooftop under my feet. My face reflected in the red pool below me, that had flowed wonderfully from his head.

His eyes were still full of blood, and I gently moved the cap slightly up.

All the red was coming from a chasm of blackness. An empty void in the middle of the skull. Such beauty from nothing.

The gaping entry point of the bullet was still visibly crimson, and to some degree, even a bit shiny, in the pale moonlight.