2 The high-pitched electronic screech of the alarm clock split the air of the room A low groan answered it as a hand lashed out from the bed throwing the clock across the room It hit the far wall the plastic face shattering with a dull cracking sound like the breaking of an egg shell I swear to God that damned clock gets more annoying every day he said to himself as he rose and walked to where the clock lay on the floor He stooped down and picked up the remains turning them in his hands Guess it won t be annoying anymore he mumbled to himself He dropped the clock back to its grave on the floor Casting bleary eyes about the room he found his bathrobe over the back of a chair and pulled it on His head was still fogged by the sleeping pill he had taken after his dream the night before He thought some music would help to clear it He popped a tape into the tape deck and punched the play button Techno blasted out 150 watts strong throwing him violently back into the land of the living He followed the lyrics in his mind wondering how anything so loud and boisterous could hide such dark and sinister themes He smiled as he realized once again why he liked the music so much it was about things he could understand Dreams and nightmares Beauty and terror Gruesome lonely loss Yes he understood all of these things perfectly And through it all he had found companions for his emptiness in the clubs people who shared the void inside him The clubs were interesting places Chrome leather and loud music For the most part they were hangouts for people that had nowhere else to go Dark sweaty rooms lit by lurid lights Music so loud that it vibrated every coherent thought from a person s head Meeting places for the living-dead burnouts from every walk of life David really felt at home there The places also proved the old addage that anything can be bought for a price The women were all right good company if you belonged For a while being with someone as desolate as he was made things seem almost endurable but they always faded away consumed either by his hunger or their own and in the end it didn t matter The emptiness was all he had left the cold consolation from a bottle of liquor that didn t care about his crimes That and the nightmares Dark nights spent in terror his mind trying to rip itself to pieces in atonement Sheets soaked with icy sweat screams which brought his mother running until she too had gone He had seen an army of therapists all of which had done the same thing mumbled some bullshit about suppressed guilt All of them had something else in common they hadn t been able to help him He had sunk deeper and deeper into depression as one head shrinker after another failed to help him They all overlooked one thing in his heart David Rayneir didn t want to be helped He was paying a penance through his dreams for what he had done The emptiness simply made him safe if he didn t care about anything he had nothing to lose The terrible void of his condition did bother him It was funny the one thing that made him safe was the thing he hated most He despised the emptiness that was his only constant companion He had found that the alcohol helped though If one drank enough mental and spiritual numbness were sure to follow The beautiful swimming of reality before the warp of booze All of life seemed like a surrealist s painting nothing solid enough to matter During these periods he didn t care about anything enough to let it bother him Of course he had lost the few friends he had They simply couldn t stand to watch his drinking consume him David walked to the window of what had once been his grandfather s bedroom He pulled back the drapes letting gray light filter into the room The sight that greeted him both lifted his soul and brought him crashing onto the rocks of depression Snow fell in thick waves blanketing both the field beyond the house and the mountains in the distance He turned around and grabbed the chair from his desk sitting it so it faced out the window Grabbing an ashtray and his pack of cigarretes he sat staring out into the snowstorm David smoked a cigarette in long deep drags enjoying the feel of the smoke clawing at his lungs How long had it been since it snowed like this Hell it didn t matter He rose from the chair and walked to the closet throwing open the doors David dropped to one knee rooting through a pile of blankets in the bottom of the closet He quickly found what he was looking for pulling out the whiskey bottle and carrying it back to his chair the way a woman might carry her newborn child David reseated himself and quickly removed the plastic cap of the bottle He took a long pull and snuffed out his cigarette His gaze fell to the butt in the ashtray He looked at it the way most people would have looked at the corpse of a close friend Another cigarette quickly followed the first He watched the snow fall the slowly descending white flakes mesmerizing him He hadn t seen a snow storm like this in a long time The quarter sized flakes spun gently in the breeze reflecting the sun s radiance into an almost blinding myriad of patterns The last time it had snowed like this was ( the night ) at least ( she died ) four years ago ( The night ) He had still ( you killed her ) been in college then He felt the tide of his memories swelling within him ( The flood The flood was coming again ) David had hoped to hide in the alcohol to escape what he had felt building but he had no hope this time ( Time for penance to pay for past sins ) He had no hope but to float with the rushing tide ( Would it be better to surrender ) otherwise he would surely drown ( to let the waves consume him and end it ) To Be Continued Next Month L8R GRENDEL RANCiD 94