By: Baz

[Chapter 02: Rain of Brass Petals]

[Akrest]

I awakened in my apartment disoriented and dehydrated. My head pulsated so hard it nearly made me throw up. I tried sitting up in my bed but was quickly pushed down by an oddly strong hand.

“No you don’t!” the man scolded. “You need to lay down and relax, buddy. You made quite a scene at the funeral…”

The more he spoke the more his face was drawn in my mind until it was clear who he was.

“Volt? Is that you?” I asked, trying to turn my head to look at him sitting beside the bed.

“Glad you still recognize my voice, you prick.” He answered coldly.

He hadn’t changed a bit. His real name was Atlas, but everyone called him Volt because of his spastic, vulgar and eclectic personality. I became his friend in one of the many middle schools I attended back then but made the mistake of forsaking him for Agate. He was one of the few friends who stuck with me as I was dragged from town to town, he’d always come over every weekend and we’d spend our time together gaming. He was also the only one of my friends who was gay. It’s not that I really gave a shit about other people’s sexuality, I just always thought that that was their business, not mine.

I finally managed to turn on my side and looked at him. He was completely different from how I remembered him ten years ago. He was very feminine back then, but now he was burly and spoke with a rugged, dry voice. His porcelain, soft alabaster skin was pristine still, not a wrinkle in sight. He had green eyes and bleach blonde hair. His natural brown coloring was only visible in his roots and eyebrows. Now he wielded a goatee and had various piercings on his ears, lip, and god knows where else. I understood his coldness towards me, I had screwed him over right when he moved to Seattle to live closer to me.

“You were at the funeral? I didn’t see you in the crowd.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I had arrived just before your now infamous speech.” He handed me a cold beer. “Was there some of Oprah Winfrey’s eulogy to Rosa Parks in there? I noticed some of Senator John McCain’s speech to Mark Bingham in there as well.”

I laughed. “Don’t hate on me, I didn’t have anything to say really. Not to mention that I made the speech about an hour before the service was to begin…”

“You’re the only dude I know who has nothing to say at his late wife’s funeral.” He said as he took a hearty swig of beer.

The beer tasted horrible, I was never really a big fan of it. I preferred either hard liquor or the cheap wine coolers in the back corner of the store. I took another swig hoping to get rid of the nasty taste and regretted doing so. I sat up a bit and looked around my messy apartment. Amongst the many posters of bands I loved like Linkin Park, Tegan and Sara, Brand New and Modest Mouse, there were a few pieces I drew mixed between them as they covered virtually every wall in the bedroom. I remember Agate getting really annoyed with my obsession with music. I would play it in the car when she would try to talk, I would listen to it in the shower, at night on my Zune HD, on my computer, I could never get enough.

“So I had this dream when I was unconscious,” I began. “I was in a field of flowers, buck naked and Agate floated down from the sky above me. We made love, which is totally unlike me, and then I woke up. It was really strange but also felt very natural to me.”

“Yeah I figured you were having some wet dream because as I carried you back here, you, uh, made a mess of your pants, buddy.”

I was embarrassed and annoyed at the same time that he continued to call me buddy even after all these years. I looked away from the posters back to him.

“Well it could’ve been worse…” my voice trailed off as I entertained the thought of doing something even more obscene in my sleep.

“I suppose. What was up with you screaming at everyone?” he asked concerned.

“All I know was I was giving the speech in front of all those people and then suddenly something took over me.” I explained, “You of all people know that I am not a very angry person. Well, at least not that angry.”

He stood up and nodded as he began picking up around the place. I tried to get up and help him, but quickly became disoriented and nauseated as soon as I stood. I sighed and fell back into the ocean of fluffy, soft blankets and pillows. I started to think of the possibilities of the funeral outburst. Did I have multiple personalities? Was I that unstable? Was I possessed by something? Round and round question after question rattled my already throbbing brain. I reached for some aspirin on the nightstand aside the king size bed.

“So are you still with that one dude?” I asked Volt, trying to make small talk and seem somewhat caring about him.

He turned to me and set down miscellaneous junk I had thrown around the room in my seclusion. “No I’m not with Vincent anymore- he turned out to be like every other gay dude: a horny douchebag. But thanks for asking about my life.”

I laughed and finished up the grotesque beer, I wondered if the attendees of the funeral were pissed off at me Then again, they had it out for me at the start me of dating her.  Volt was never the same to me after I moved in with Agate and cut off nearly all communication with him. The more I was around his new masculine persona, the more I realized that he was always like man he is now deep inside. It was just covered up by a lot of attitude and estrogen I suppose. He sat down on the bed beside me and finished his beer.

“The more things change the more they stay the same, eh?” he looked to me for affirmation.

I nodded and went after his empty beer, brushing against his hand as I grabbed it and threw it in the trash beside the nightstand. He looked up at me and I looked away quickly, this was really uncomfortable.

“Awkward…” I laughed, the beer had a stronger effect on me than I anticipated.

“Yeah, you’re like a brother to me.” he made a disgusted look at me.

He pulled out a crumpled up envelope from among the remaining trash on the floor.

“This is from Agate. Looks like you didn’t read it yet, it’s sealed.”

I grabbed the envelope trying not to look as eager as I really was. How had I missed this? It was postmarked and everything. I tore open the seal and immediately smelled that familiar sugar-coated perfume. Volt picked up the discarded envelope and perused it.

∞∞∞

[Volt]

As soon as I picked up the envelope Akrest had ripped open, I checked the date. Yesterday? That’s not possible! Before I had a chance to show Akrest, he began crying as he was reading the letter. I wasn’t sure what I should do, I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea if I tried to hold him. So I just looked at the ground until he was finished reading the letter sent from the dead. I looked over to him and watched him neatly fold up the paper and place it in his wallet. He looked over to me and lunged at me, sobbing relentlessly.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright, I know it’s hard.” I sympathized.

In all honesty I didn’t know what it was like to lose someone you love. I never truly experienced love yet. I’ve had my fair share of lust and mindless fucks though. After five minutes or so he came around and looked at me, collecting his thoughts.

“She said exactly what I needed to hear.” He said in between sobs.

It was pretty strange being here with him, I had longed for his presence for quite a while now. Ever since that bitch took him, his friends and I were fucked over. I put the postmarked envelope in my pocket and decided it was best to not tell him about the date it was sent. I was a detective after all. I would get to the bottom of this and give Akrest time to grieve. It might be possible that she was alive; it was a closed casket service. He didn’t need to know, for if it was untrue and she wasn’t alive, it would devastate him even more.

I was going to head back to my place and begin my investigation, but seeing Akrest’s current state I decided to take him out.

“We should go out to a bar for some drinks, get changed and I’ll be in the living room playing Playstation 3 while I wait, okay?” I suggested.

“Actually that sounds like a great idea, give me five.” He said taking his shirt off and looking in his closet for a clean, less formal one.

I made my way to his television and booted up the Playstation. I was in the mood for Bioshock 2.

∞∞∞

[Akrest]

I quickly got dressed to go out to the bar. I really could use some downtime away from all this sadness. As we left the apartment, I should’ve known that the sadness would follow me close like my own shadow. I was out of my element and ready to have a good time. Anything to stop this disgusting sickness that wouldn’t cease.

We ended up at some local bar that I soon realized was more suited for Volt’s taste than mine. There were a lot of same sex couples, and it was obvious that they didn’t care who saw them have sex. I kept my hands in my pocket and tried not to touch anything as we approached the bar. I glanced at the clock and discovered it was almost midnight already. Volt asked the bartender for a screwdriver and I went for a jack and coke. The female bartender looked like she came out of an anime film and gladly served us drinks.

Come to think of it this entire place was very neon and futuristic themed. The bar was made out of some fluorescent green Plexiglas with various tags that drunk people wrote all over it with a permanent marker. The tag closest to me read: “Life is still sweet” with what looked like a pitchfork adorned with a halo above its tips. Looking at the amount of black lights in the bar this seemed more like a wannabe rave than a local bar or club. There were various pillars of Plexiglas complete with shelving that held bright lava lamps all over them and as I looked past the dance floor, I saw the furniture was mostly neon blow-up plastic chairs and couches.

“What’s up with all the plastic?” I asked Volt, unable to look away from all the fantastical fluorescents.

“It’s easier to clean up the mess I suppose, plus it looks more cool than a plain old bar.” Volt said, laughing a bit at the end.

As I sipped on my jack and coke, I realized more and more males were flocking to me. I tried to ignore them and focus on my drink. Volt began chatting with various gays and kept introducing me as his “straight friend.”  I grew increasingly uncomfortable as the night went on and was hit on constantly. Volt went to the restroom with some dude he barely knew and told me to loosen up and have a good time as he left. I focused on my drink and tuned out everything around me. Guy after guy came up to me trying to get me to go out with them and dance. I finally was fed up with it all and left the bar.

The crisp, cold weather outside nipped at my face as I walked to the other side of the street. Walking alone in Seattle was something I never quite got used to, I was always afraid of the uncertain, especially at night. I picked up the pace and buttoned up my wool black jacket to defend against the chilly conditions. Winter had its grasp on the Pacific Northwest longer than usual this year. The season enveloped the trees and plants, suffocating them and sucking on the last bit of life they sustained. The pavement was a little slick from the rain last night and it beckoned me to fall. As I walked, Agate flooded into my mind again.

We were coming home from a fun concert one night in the summer two years ago. We held hands and huddled closely together as we laughed about old times and shared stories. It was times like these that I loved her deeply. I always felt like a little kid when she was around but felt like an old man after she was diagnosed. Her black hair was the same as always, shoulder length and infinitely distracting as it seemed to have its own physics while blowing in the wind. It would flutter up and down, ebbing inwards and outwards like an ocean dyed black. Her light blue eyes contained specks of green that eclipsed her pupil and the coloring seemed to darken or lighten according to her many moods. I remembered looking into those eyes the last few weeks of her life and seeing death take over their intense hue, voiding it of any color.

I glanced over at her as we rounded the last street corner to our apartment complex, she locked eyes with me and smiled like an angel. The moment was over and nothing stood beside me as I climbed the stairs to the doorway.

‘Why did you have to die? Why did you leave me with only a heart exhausted and a tongue that spoke rarely to any one anymore?’ The more I asked these questions the less apparent the answer became. I unlocked the door of apartment 13 with a rusty, slightly bent brass key.

Relieved to be home again my reclusive behavior would take hold of me for another week. Volt hadn’t called or visited and I was slightly happy for that. I didn’t want to face the world, I didn’t care for company. That long, arduous week was spent in my bed, staring at the posters I once took pride in. I had given up.

[Chapter 01: Seclusion]

Upon reading the last words of his late wife’s final letter to him, Akrest wasn’t sure how to feel. The letter must’ve been written about a month before her passing, for it mentioned an argument he recalls them having. Akrest Maeda was 32 years old, had blue eyes and a rough chiseled look about him. His chin was square, his arms bulky and too big for his frame. He bore many tattoos, a cluster of tree branches on his left bicep, a star where his watch should be on his left arm. Etched upon the back of his neck was a peculiar symbol representing infinite time with an hourglass shape with an infinity symbol around its waist.

There were many more tattoos on his legs and a large black and grey tattoo of an anchor covering his entire back. He was an artist of many mediums; drawing, painting, writing, creating music, and sculpting. He acquired all of these necessary burdens at a young age when his mother, a single parent, drifted from lover to lover and location to location. Never having a solid foundation to build social skills on, he would instead immerse himself in his imagination. Very unusual things spawned in his mind; strange creatures, magical worlds, and unique characters became his own mythology after a while. Before he knew it these fantasies began materializing in the real, cold world through drawings and sculptures. It was as if he was only a chronologist to his imagination, painting their world into reality. He watched them grow old as he himself went through a tough life.

Before he knew it here he stood alone and hopeless. His wife died of coronary heart disease and if he didn’t pick himself out of this depression he would soon follow her. He had not left his apartment in weeks and had no real urge to. Her letter to him wasn’t a positive one. It marked the end of their marriage, the end of happiness. Their relationship strained soon after she was diagnosed one year prior to today. Akrest remembered when her doctor told her vividly. They had gone to the doctor to find out if they could have a child together. In a period of five years of marriage, they still made love often and led happy lives together. They did a full blown set of tests on them, for neither of them had been to the doctor’s in well over ten years.

“I have some unfortunate news, Mrs. Maeda,” the doctor said, the sentence that no one awaiting results of a doctor’s visit wanted to hear. “upon testing we discovered your arteries are abnormally narrow. It is very likely that you have coronary heart disease. We’d like to do a few more tests to determine how far along the disease is and what treatments will ensure a speedy recovery.”

The weight of the bad news would not only crush their marriage, but end her life as well. From that moment on, Akrest knew they were in for nothing but dark days. Her disease would be confirmed in subsequent tests and in retrospect; Akrest realized that this would be the last time they would feel like they were in love. The stress of her condition mixed with potent drugs and more tests and longer stays at the hospital estranged their marriage faster than either of them realized.

There were so many tears he had shed over her that he found himself drained. He gave up his life of close friends so they could build a future together. Now that he knew she was dying at that point, his feelings would soon falter underneath all of the pain and loneliness to come. When she was well enough to come home most of the time it was negative. They would feed on each other’s stress, lashing out at the other from all of the pain and confusion they found themselves sinking in. Akrest could not recall the last time they made love or any other positive connection at all during her last months of living.

There was a saved voicemail on his cell that he refused to delete. She called him the night before her death.

“Hey Akrest, it’s Agate,” her weak voice forced him to listen closely. “I just want you to know that I love you and I’m sorry for taking you down this path in life. You deserve so much more and I don’t want this experience to make you jaded or anything. I wish for you to remember all the good times we’ve had and all of the happiness we created. Never forget me, I will be with you always.”

The voicemail always lifted his spirits a bit each time he listened to it. Having been a technology geek, he had recorded it onto his computer through VOIP and backed it up to his email accounts and servers. He didn’t have a need for a cellphone any more as she was pretty much the only person who called him. He had a few friends that he talked to occasionally but the conversations became less involved and less exciting over the years. Akrest was shocked that any of them even bothered to try and talk to him. He had chosen Agate over them and left plenty of bad blood between them.

The funeral and the wake was densely populated with various friends and family of the deceased and widow. Akrest recognized his mother and his sister amongst the solemn people. The service paid great respects to her and what she had accomplished in life. Being a straight “A” student and valedictorian of her class, opening her own flower shop in the middle of the city, and her various accomplishments over the years were spoken. Akrest hardly knew much about her family, let alone her friends, and he didn’t care too. He wasn’t a people person and that became very apparent when he spoke her eulogy.

Comprised of copying and pasting various bits and pieces from an internet search for famous eulogies, the speech was inconsistent and had no effect on the grievers. Stopping midway through the speech, it finally hit him that she was really dead. His whole train of thought was derailed instantly and he burst in tears. He angrily threw the podium over, the speakers emitting a sharp ear-piercing sound of microphone to speaker feedback. He kicked at the podium on the stage and proceeded to look at the crowd, his face red and a steady stream of tears trickled down his cheeks and dropped from his jawbone to the stage floor.

“What the fuck do you people want from me?” he belted out, “Would you stop looking at me, just stop!”

It was apparent that he was in a frenzy, his speech became less and less coherent as he scolded everyone. His anxiety accrued faster than a rocket launching from a rocket launcher at an unlucky foe. His chest was noticeably pulsating up and down as he tried to breathe and as soon as the outburst occurred, he was unconscious on the ground in a second later. The shocked crowd looked at each other in awe and Akrest’s mother ran up to his shaking body.

∞∞∞

[Akrest]

I remembered being at the funeral in front of all these strangers. Their glances intercepted all of my thoughts as I stumbled through the eulogy I was reading. This speech wasn’t mine; I had hurriedly pasted together a horrible mash up of various famous eulogies and speeches. One of my greatest fears was public speaking, and the fact that I was speaking to a lot of friends and family of hers and mine that wanted me dead only increased the fear. Then something took hold of me, it was almost like someone thrust a searing hot fireplace poker into the base of my sweating spine.

Intense hatred I had never experienced having frothed out of my mouth like thick, black, and bubbling tar.

“What the fuck do you people want from me?” I screamed, “Would you stop looking at me, just stop!”

I had no idea where it came from and after destroying the podium I hit the floor and woke in a completely different world stark naked. I was lying in a field of beautiful chrysanthemums, dandelions, and lilies. White light filled my vision as I saw my wife come towards me from the skies, it was a spectacular sight. I could’ve sworn I saw white feathered wings behind her shining figure as she floated to me like an angel from above. As soon as we embraced, she let out a soft moan as I entered her. It had never felt so natural and so good as it did in this dreamy world of bright flowers and blue skies.

I laid my face in between her soft breasts and smelled the familiar scent of her sugary perfume. Gently kissing her cleavage and suckling on her tender, rose-colored nipples I felt her tighten around my penis. She began to tremble and shifted her weight back as held the back of her neck and entered her entirely. This all felt strange and erotic at the same time, I knew it couldn’t be real but I didn’t care. I needed this more now than ever before. I couldn’t get enough of her and she expressed it as well.

In the aftermath of the intercourse, my mind switched back on and I began to wonder just what my sub-conscious was telling me. I was never that sexual, never really had any desire to procreate or get off. Was I just scratching the surface on who I really am? We caught our breath as we lay side-by-side and trembled together. I didn’t want this feeling to end, I didn’t want to wake up. I couldn’t face the world without her, my current reclusive behavior more affirmation to the notion.

“Agate?” I whispered to her.

“Don’t question this, just enjoy the moment.” She spoke with warm sun-kissed words.

I always thought of summer when I heard her nostalgic voice, my prepubescent days of adventure in the backyard. The iced tea after an exhausting day of playing with friends, the sunburns that kept me awake at night. I missed those short-lived days before all of the bullshit and abuse. Come to think of it, I don’t know if I ever experienced as much intense happiness throughout my life as I did then.

I turned to look at Agate and my eyelids closed before I could speak again. I was out cold.

Written by Baz
5th Jan 2010

Written by Baz
Dec 15th 2009

Fullscreen

Completely Redrawn from scratch. Used Black Charcoal as well as White Charcoal this time. Isaac Brock of Modest Mouse in the music video “The Whale Song.” My new fav for sure!

Written by Baz
Nov 26th 2009

Another Isaac Brock pic I drew, one of my favorites.

Fullscreen

My fist picture I drew of Isaac Brock, white charcoal on black posterboard. Pat Graham snapped this shot at the Bumbershoot ‘09 show that I went to so I had to draw it. Sorry the quality is not that good, had to use digital camera to take a pic, this thing is waaay too big to scan.

Piece three of my Isaac Brock drawings.

From the Whale Song Music Video, one of my favorite pics of Isaac Brock so I decided to draw it.