novella corinna

The Second Door

If I told you Paradise lies behind this door, would you believe it?

emonicolewhite-deactivated20110 asked: "To The Girl with Blonde Hair and Blue Eyes" was... inspirational? No that isn't the word. I'll go with meaningful, however slightly inaccurate that is. I enjoyed it greatly. Very well written and artistically visual. You have earned one more follower.

Hey, thanks so much. Really appreciate you taking the time to read my writing, and for dropping a line of encouragement. Thanks for the follow as well-followed you back. Glad to be connected. Cheers!

To the girl with blonde hair and blue eyes

I made you a mix tape, but I never gave it to you. I chose the songs from the book you gave me. In it, the lead character makes the exact same mix tape to give to one of his friends. I began to record my own versions of these songs-I had some grand scheme to put together some elaborate gift. But alas, for a multitude of reasons all this never happened.

And then you stabbed me directly in the heart, and left me for dead. Except it didn’t kill me. It only killed the emotion. And as I laid wounded on the side of the road, a passer-by, who was actually an acquaintance of mine, came to my rescue.

But in an act of desperation this person, too, inflicted a wound. In an event that for every reason should have been a fatal occurrence, my once savior pulled out a gun, and fired a round directly into my heart. But neither did this act of nepotism kill me. It only blackened my spirit. And the blackness continued until I turned on myself. I threw myself into every deep pit I could find. I swam to the bottom of any dark lock I happened upon. And I opened every box carrying the mark of Pandora that made its way into my hands. My intent being to destroy every corner of the world. But the only existence I destroyed was my own. Lucky for me, my self destruction was never carried out in full.

Because just as the story goes, at the bottom of Pandora’s box lied hope. That truth rang honest in my meager existence. For just as I had given my soul over to the pure entropy that I was sure was going to eradicate my spirit from the world, a bright light appeared before me. The light of the New One. This New One would be my authentic savior, the perfect confidante yielding my true reconstruction.

And thus I was indeed reconstructed. I was brought back from my undead state of living in perpetual numbness. And for the next matter of years things continued in this way. A total reconstruction, which gave way to a passion I’d never known. The light was brilliant, and my way of life was extraordinary.

But all too soon this passion gave way to obsession. An obsession that lead to misdirection. And beyond the misdirection laid a path of discontentment. The difficulty here is that the path of discontentment is perpetual, and once on that path the momentum towards confusion and resentment is compounding and astonishingly abrupt. So I once again found myself in the middle of a crisis. I looked in the mirror for the one millionth time to finally acknowledge a change-I had become something else.

Wait long enough and not only will you forget where you’re going, you will forget where you came from. And that’s exactly what happened. I lost sight of my vision. I became afflicted by a certain type of blindness, and my passions for my life burned dim. Eventually, I completely turned the lights off on the unbuilt empire that had totally swallowed me up, and I dragged myself out the other end. I pulled a knife on my allies-cutting them down and leaving them for dead, just as I, myself, once was.

A white-wash. A sheer snowy valance hanging from the coldest grey of all heavens. In the midst of the most bone-chilling, siberian winter in history, I sat secluded in my dark lair. Hibernating. Only emerging at nite to prowl the streets and patronize the speakeasies for a the one I could swoon into the twilight.

Arm-in-arm the sharpness of the sub-zero lunar glow freezes us into hysteria. Laughing at the numbness of our frozen inhibitions, we come face-to-face with the edge of the nite. In the knick of time we find a place to rest our heads. But every dawn I’m suffered by the piercing greeting of an asystole-the consequences of a vicious cycle set into motion and perpetuated by no one except myself.

Plummeting into a self-inflicted downward spiral, I became nauseated in angst. I was telling lies to myself and to others. I was running from myself all the while projecting every shortcoming onto my allies, in order to convince myself that they were my enemies. Hypocrisy. It was in this moment that I woke up to the fact that I had become the very thing I swore against. I had become you.

In The Land Of Nod: A BMW With A Phone Booth

A few weeks back I had a series of dreams. Only one do I remember, the rest of them are gone forever. Here is what I remember:

I was driving down a dark, winding road, and going kind of fast. I was following an older sport utility car in front of me, and I was way too close. I think it was a Chevy Bronco from the ’80s. I could only see the dim taillights of the Bronco in front of me, a little bit of the road, and a tiny bit of the trees and grass to either side of the road. It was very dark.

Just then I got a text message from some random number I didn’t recognize. The text told me to meet the sender at some restaurant which I had never heard of. I try to text this person back to ask who they are, but I’m having trouble texting while driving. I decide that I’ll wait until I get where I’m going.

Suddenly I’m in a restaurant. I have no idea what restaurant it was, but in the dream it is as if I had been there a million times. There are other patrons in the restaurant, but I’m alone. The restaurant is quite big. It’s a fancy restaurant too. I begin walking through the main dining area to a corridor. A man in a nice white linen uniform stops and looks at me. I think he wants to direct me to the way of the bathroom, and points me in the direction I’m already going. As I walk into the corridor, the entire establishment begins to change into a catacomb of hallways-the type of hallways that make up the underbelly of a sporting complex or college gymnasium.

Suddenly I’m in the back seat of a car. It’s a bigger car, probably a sport utility. We are going through the drive-through at a fast food restaurant. It’s probably somewhere around midnite or 1am. There are around four or so people in the car. At this point my dream has not revealed who these other people are, but I do feel the strong sense that I know them. The only person my dream has revealed to me is the girl who is sitting next to me in the back seat. In the dream I knew her quite well, but in reality I have no idea who this person was. There is some dialogue between this girl and all the people in the car, of which I can’t remember. Then, just as we’re pulling around to the window to pick up the food, this girl takes her shirt and bra off. I can’t remember the reactions everyone had in the car, but I do remember that this was supposed to be comical. As the driver receives his food from the window, The Girl flashes her breasts at the workers in the fast food restaurant. They are extremely surprised, and laughing hysterically. At this point my dream now reveals to me who the other people in my dream are, yet for the sake of this story, I’m compelled me to keep their identities concealed. I’ll refer to these other two people as simply The Driver, and The Passenger. As we are pulling away from the fast food restaurant, I turn to The Shirtless Girl and say, “Hey, if you take off the rest of our clothes and walk around that way the rest of the nite, I’ll buy you dinner.” She says, “Ok.” and does it.

Then we decide that we all want to go to Starbucks. We drive up through some alleyway. Starbucks is on the left. The Driver turns right. I say, “Dude, you’re totally going the wrong way.” The Driver says, “I thought Starbucks was this way?!” The Passenger says, “Nope,” with a certain annoyance in tone. We pull up a small hill, park the car in the adjacent parking lot, and all get out.

We’re all aimlessly walking around the parking lot. At this point I’m getting kinda nervous about this naked friend of ours, who is walking around wearing only her socks and shoes. The scenery has changed. There no longer is a Starbucks. Our car is no longer around. In the adjacent parking lot there is a dark green BMW car, which looks like it’s probably from the ’90s. Two homeless men are sitting on milk crates in front of it. At the bottom of the small hill is a cabin of some kind that is apparently owned by someone in our group. The Naked Girl walks up to the BMW where the homeless guys are. I think I walk with her. She walks to the hood of the BMW and opens it. The homeless men are looking her up and down, and getting rowdy. Underneath the hood of the BMW are about five stairs that go down into a toilet and phone booth compartment. The Naked Girl climbs in, and shuts the hood behind her. The Driver comes walking up asking about The Naked Girl. We all talk about something for a minute or two. The Driver opens the hood of the BMW. The Naked Girl looks up. She is using the phone, and very annoyed at the interruption. The Driver closes the hood, and then pushes a button on the front of the BMW, which locks her in.

Suddenly all of us are down at the cabin at the bottom of the small hill. All of us except The Naked Girl, who is apparently still making a phone call from the restroom/phone booth of the BMW. I’m growing more and more worried, as those two homeless men are still sitting outside the BMW. Suddenly The Naked Girl is there with us. Only now she has workout clothes on that look like they are from the ’80s. Everyone is really worried, she is really worried. There is some dialogue about how her walking around naked-especially in front of the homeless men-was a very bad idea.

Then darkness. Either I have now woken up, or I don’t remember the rest of the dream.

[Photo by: Bill Henson www.billhenson.net.au]

Characters

I make up characters sometimes. It’s just one of those “things” I do. I used to do it a lot more than I do now. But I should start again. I’m probably gonna.

10 years ago I made up a character named superyummy. He made a few appearances on a moderately famous website that my friend created. We owned Superyummy [DOT] Net for a brief moment.

8 years ago I made up a character/movie titled “Gay Werewolf II”. What about “Gay Werewolf I”, you ask? There is no Gay Werewolf I. Only Gay Werewolf II. My friend also used this character on a web project.

6 years ago I made up a character named John Karl Kackackaleano. He was the most famous 18th century aristocrat that never existed, and his name was only to be sung. Never spoken. I had totally forgotten about him until another friend of mine asked about him just last week.