From the Friend Downstairs
0% Angel was blasting over the surround sound system and a wailing came from the girl that lay across the floor. Her abdomen, arm and right leg had been hacked to pieces and she screamed in pain. Alexander sat on the couch, he leaned back, his left leg extending out and his right bent supporting his position. In his left hand which rested on the back of the coach he sipped Angel envy on the rocks. His right hand rest on the end handle of an axe. The blade glistening red with organic bits plastering its smooth surface, blood staining the light wood all the way up to where his hand rested. He stared at something that was on the low white marble table in the living room. His eyes dove deep into its structure.
Two hours ago. He received a package at his sixty sixth floor apartment. He was close to the top of the building, but this was the only place available when he went to buy. It was nice, floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the metropolis, he had furnished it with white marble tables and gray accent couches. His bar was fully stocked with the best liquer and few little luxies that kept his health in a good position. A knock came to his door and when he opened it a small wooden box sat at his feet.
A card read “From your friend downstairs” he looked at it curiously. He had met a few of the people from the lower floors last week, but he didn’t think he made that much of an impression on them. He gave a smile, well, looks like your more charming then you thought. He moved to the living room and sat down on his L shaped couch and set the wooden box on the table. It was a simple box, and he slipped the lid off of it with ease. Inside was a smooth ball which was covered in wooden packing material. He lifted the ball out carefully, below it was a small square dish that it would sit in that he took out after.
The ball was perfect, his hand ran around it and it felt smoother then anything he had ever touched. It was pure white, while the base was pure black. When set together they created incredible contrast. The light and dark seemed to fight to absorb each other. Alexander was entranced by it. His eyes could not peel themselves from the white sphere. It seemed to pull him in, the room spinning and darkening as the sphere called out to him. Whispers came from inside of it. They did not travel by sound waves, but seemed to transmit straight into his mind. He knelt forward his face only a foot away from the spheres. He swore he could see something in the there. In the middle of all that negative space. In the pureness that it presented. He could see, he could see…
The axe slammed down into the mans back, a slight moment of disbelief then pure chaos erupted in the room. The mans body tried to swing around, but the axe came down again and followed the body to the floor. It raised and fell with bone and muscle tearing at each heave. Some tried to fight back, but they were no match. There would be no disarming him, no escaping from the executioner. He hunted in the small space one by one, the screams, the prayers, the pleading. It all fell on deaf ears. But the axe would listen and answer each one until the last. The girl who now lay. Her screams and cries had now died down, shock had ran its course and death was now coming to retrieve her.
The party was over as his friends lay strewn across his apartment. Alexander sat, the music still blaring in the background. Then came pounding on his door. The police had arrived much to late, but they had come. He had reinforced the door, so he could work in peace, but they would soon break it down.
He peered at the sphere then knelt by the table, his face a few inches away from it. He looked deep again. The banging Began to grow louder and louder. He set the axe on the table, blade facing up towards his neck. He held his head parallel with the table. His reflection looking back from the white marble table. He lifted his head up and for a moment held it there. Frozen in an unnatural pose.
He was the butterfly in the Atlantic, the pebble thrown in the glass lake, the hammer to the mirror.
He breathed in a sharp breathe and drove his neck down as hard as he could against he blade.
I just watched LongLegs. I knew somewhat about it before going in and I knew it had Nic Cage in it (the hardest working actor of our generation). As the credits rolled I didn’t really know what to think of it. It wasn’t terrifying, but something about the whole movie lingered with me, swirled around my head. I enjoyed the movie the shots/acting and sound were all on point. This story came to be when driving home the next day.
The song playing in the background is 0% Angel by Mr.Kitty
Careful what you accept into your home.
Cheers