The Others – Twenty-Two

Posted on October 8, 2015 by Helen
Image credit: Jag_cz

Image credit: Jag_cz

For a moment I stood, the alien to these two glittering creatures, feeling partly like an ignorant fool and partly like a hero in a myth who had united an ancient king and queen who were separated by a curse. And it felt wonderful and it felt terrible. I wanted to belong, but knew I didn’t. Still, they thought I did, or so it seemed.

“Come in!” Gabriel returned, a youthful patriarch still amused by my reticence but indicating his patience was finite. He was the young scion of the newly born empire and was not inclined to wait on the comfort of his lessers.

I obeyed. For that was what it was. I was being carried on a tide far greater than myself in that moment. My curiosity, my skills, my ideas, had all brought me inexorably to this point, in a well-appointed, almost opulent penthouse towering over the city, with two fallen angels greedy for each other but tolerant of me. Maybe even a bit grateful to me.

Gabriel ushered us over to the dinner table and motioned for us to sit. The table was arrayed with salads and cold meats, all presented with obviously but discretely expensive silverware and crockery. I wondered what Gabriel did to make a living, and one so fine as this. Perhaps his talent had given him a plush lifestyle, or perhaps he’d inherited it. This part of town was full of young men and women with nothing much to distinguish themselves other than healthy inheritances or trust funds. Which was Gabriel? A self-made young man, or one well born? He looked youthful but I suspected he was actually about my age (which isn’t that old really!) but older than than Natalie. He had an unworried air about him and the sense of ‘to the manor born’ which made me suspect he was the latter of the two.

Gabriel poured champagne into our glasses and raised his for the toast.

“To finally meeting!” he said, smiling at Natalie and then turning to me. “And to our resourceful go-between!”

We clinked glasses and drank. It seemed the distrust I had sensed in my phone call from Gabriel had receded before the force of the success of our venture. He was largesse rather than suspicion. Natalie was shaking a bit, but I didn’t feel this was fear. She was like a little girl at her first real birthday party. She kept looking at Gabriel like he was some sort of special prize, then looking to me and clutching my hand, over and over, as though to ask me to confirm her beliefs. I felt a bit jealous, but I was glad to be included, and I was happy to see her happy.

Bloody altruism and affection. My Achilles heel.

“What do you do for a living Gabriel?” I asked into the self-satisfaction that was forming around me, almost sickeningly so. “What pays for all of this?”

He looked around as though seeing his own apartment for the first time. His eyes settled on paintings that were clearly originals, on elegant vases holding fresh flowers, on the leather lounge and chairs, the glass coffee table, the expensive and minimalist home entertainment system.

“Not much,” he admitted, “I was born into money.”

“I thought so,” I said.

“It’s that obvious then?” he asked, amused.

“Well, to me, yes. I have an eye for these things.”

“You certainly have an eye.” He agreed. We were testing each other, two men in a pissing contest. I wasn’t going to win, but then, I don’t think before I act, as I’ve said before. I wanted to show off for Natalie.

Natalie! I remembered her in that moment. Gabriel and I both looked at her at the exact same moment, but while I was relieved to still be able to see and remember her, that the communion hadn’t broken by engaging directly with Gabriel, he seemed secure and amused.

“I still see you Natalie,” he said, as though he had read my mind at least, and probably hers.

“And I see you,” she replied, “It lasts, in and of itself, after the introductions.”

(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved

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Schadenfreude – Four

Posted on October 4, 2015 by Helen
Image credit: Ollyy

Image credit: Ollyy

One of the beauties of the internet was that someone who had previously not existed at all could suddenly burst into virtual existence like one in a series of big bangs. You didn’t have to be born there and deal with years of parental guidance. You didn’t need to go through school. You didn’t have the indignity of having to grow up on the internet. You could be ten years old in real life and pretend to be twenty. You could be fifty and pretend to be ten, though that was usually a fairly suspect thing to want to do. Nevertheless, you just needed a computer and a reasonable typing speed, and there you were.

Some people made more of a splash than others once they emerged in cyberspace. David liked to think he’d made an impression when he first came out of the lurking shadows and began to post on the various more incognito social media sites he would come to frequent. He knew, somewhere within, that at least part of that was that the presence of a male on these type of comedy boards was a bit of a novelty. There were a few of them, from time to time, but just as he imagined would be the case with movie star fandoms, the major demographic was young and female.

There were some more grown up and diversified comedy on-line cliques which he was a member of – and these were the best leads for actual gigs and publicity and for knowing what was really going on in the industry. But the phenomenon of comedy – the cult like followings and the bizarre interactions – these were best found on the female dominated sites. David didn’t fancy himself enough of a sociologist to really understand why, but he presumed it was just a need for sexual attention by girls who probably didn’t get much of that in the real world. Maybe boys who went to the net had more immediate and less complicated needs – they just wanted sex generally, and pornography would suffice. The girls, he thought, wanted more than that, they had an emotional drive. They wanted to be seen, to be chosen, to be desired. Hence the rabid competition for who was ’closest’ to comedians that in reality were distant from all of them.

It was entertaining. Their miseries and bitchfights reminded him that he was better than some others, that his life, while not yet what he imagined it could be, was at least above that level of pathetic need. He joined in sometimes, in the judgments and internet juries on the new people and so forth, not really because he actually cared or agreed with the prevailing trend, but to stay ‘in’ with those who might come and see him perform, and just to have a bit of vicarious pleasure through the battles between the girls.

Rather like being in a mudfight with them Voice commented.

Voice was right. But it did get a bit tedious from time to time. It did get very repetitive. That’s why the coming of Schaden was such a big splash. She moved quickly from just haunting the chat rooms to posting her condemnations and incisive and accurate analysis on the sites. Threats were made to ban her constantly, but they either never happened, or she continually circumvented the attempts. She always re-emerged, phoenix like. She set off a virtual frenzy amongst the ‘elite’. The main operator and ‘owner’ of the most popular board fancied himself a skilled part-time hacker. David heard he was sent on the hunt for her, but it seemed she was too clever for him. Or he secretly liked her and was in league with her, which, knowing him, was a distinct possibility.

(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved

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The Others – Twenty-One

Posted on October 1, 2015 by Helen
Image credit: Andrey Bayda

Image credit: Andrey Bayda

Natalie was both excited and a bit frightened. So was I. We sat, calming each other and buoying each other up in the interminable taxi trip to Gabriel’s home. He lived in Surry Hills, in the penthouse apartment of a security building with resplendent views across the Sydney skyline. Somehow this creature strolling above everyone in this manner seemed fitting. As we ascended the floors of the building in the lift it really did feel like approaching the realm of the archangels.

We’d already buzzed his apartment to be let through the security doors, but needed to ring the bell when we arrived. We took a moment to collect ourselves.

“OK, theoretically, if this is going to work,” I said to Natalie, “I need to be able to look at both of you and talk with both of you at least for the first few minutes, then we can play it by ear. Otherwise I’m going to cease to see one of you I guess and forget why I’m even here. I don’t feel like wandering around this building on my own with no memory to speak of!”

She nodded, and she suddenly took my hand, clutching it hard.

“You won’t forget me, I’ll be holding on,” she said, and braver than I, she reached out her other hand and pressed the bell.

Gabriel opened the door. He stood, an imposing figure in the flesh despite how youthful he also looked and he was taller than both of us, as though his knowledge had increased his stature somehow. He looked smaller on film. Don’t be stupid, I told myself, that’s just genetics, probably had tall parents is all. I’ve always been a little bit intimidated by tall men. No need to get over excited about it.

He was irritating though, because he really did look like some kind of fallen angel. In real life his hair was a sandy blonde, accentuating the perfect light olive of his skin, the dark, intense nature of his well lashed eyes and the fleshy generosity of his lips. Bloody hell! These creatures, was being impossibly beautiful also part of their evolutionary ascent? It seemed so unfair if that was the case, for the rest of us. Then I realised the irony, to be impossibly beautiful but also almost impossible to see. Perhaps Mother Nature has a wicked sense of humor overall, or evolution balances things out in its own perverse way.

While I mused on the many injustices and re-balancings of life, Gabriel and Natalie looked at each other. I found the whole earth seemed to shift on its axis, the nausea rose in me, and I grabbed the side of the door to steady myself. I needed to speak, to speak.

“Gabriel, I’m Peter” I said, forcing the words out and holding out my free hand to shake. The connection was made, his focus on me, we grasped each other’s hands, and in doing so all three were suddenly physically joined.
“And this is Natalie,” I said, just as quickly, to establish the introduction firmly in all our experiences and our consciousness in that moment.

Grounded by our physical contact, he could look again at Natalie, and I turned to see her change her terrified and hopeful gaze, wide eyed and achingly beautiful, from me to him. Instinctively he took her free hand. We stood, a circle, steadying ourselves.

Then the tide started to recede. We all felt it, like the electricity was dissipating. We all seemed to fear that to break the physical contact would be to destroy the moment and throw us back out into the desert’s electrical storm. But gradually, we calmed. Gabriel was the first to recognize it. He laughed, warmly, a bit in wonder and his eyes twinkled as he looked first to Natalie, then to me.

“Come in!” he said, and bravely broke the physical contact, dropping both our hands.

Still hand in hand like Hansel and Gretel at the doorway to the witch’s house, we stood, expecting the sky to fall. It didn’t. I realized I was breathing again. I hadn’t known I’d stopped.

Natalie, bolder than usual, as though made this way by the contact and breakthrough with Gabriel, dropped my hand and stepped over the threshold into his apartment. She laughed to herself and turned to me, shaking her head.

“Come in Peter! Come in! It’s worked! It’s worked!”

(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved

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Schadenfreude – Three

Posted on September 27, 2015 by Helen
Image credit: Ditty_about_summer

Image credit: Ditty_about_summer

David loved this new person and the stir that he or she caused. He guessed it was a ‘she’, it sounded like a she, but the internet could be deceptive. He switched his computer to private message mode and addressed Schadenfreude.

Vlad: I like your name. I like your game.
Schadenfreude: You understand the name?
Vlad: Of course, very good, as you are called, so you do…here at least, and it’s most amusing
Schadenfreude: Thank god for someone educated in this god forsaken room then. I doubted that such a thing…such a person.. existed.. I like your name too, by the way..
Vlad: Comedy can be intelligent..
Schadenfreude: Indeed it can, you have a point..oh. what are they babbling on about now..seems I’ve stirred them up a bit, and I’m about to get ‘kicked’ as they call it..
Vlad: Pity..you made it interesting..
Schadenfreude: They can’t really do what they want..they can’t get rid of me that easily..but hey, it’s always good to be a bit under-estimated, isn’t it…
Vlad: What do you mean?
Schadenfreude: The internet is a strange place, is all..things aren’t always what they seem. I liked talking with you. Perhaps we will again
Vlad: This room is quiet, empty, during most of the day, even the main moderators aren’t around..
Schadenfreude: That sounds like a clear invitation to the dance…I’ll see you round then..gotta go!

Lizzie had worked herself into a fever pitch of self-righteous hypocrisy. While Schaden (as David thought affectionately of her) had been responding privately to him she’d just casually dropped more and more on-target, all knowing and almost frightening insults, and the girls had ganged up in hysterical and appalling unity to ‘kick’ her out of the room. They were just about to try to put this threat into effect when she stole their thunder by leaving voluntarily.

They were unappeased, and disgruntled by being denied the thrill of eviction. They even threatened to ban her IP from getting back in, but something told David that wouldn’t stop Schaden. As she said, the internet was a wondrous place, and these silly little girls wouldn’t understand the half of it.

It really was time to go, time to sleep, and then to wake the next morning hopefully afresh to prepare for Open Mic.

He felt inspired by Schaden. Her vicious but well-timed and precise attacks were giving him ideas for his theme and its delivery. Who knows, perhaps she’d even come and see him perform some time. With that happy thought he shut down the computer and trod his weary way to his dis-shevelled, unmade bed and its promise of dreamless catatonia.

(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved

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The Others – Twenty

Posted on September 24, 2015 by Helen
Image credit: Kostenko Maxim

Image credit: Kostenko Maxim

I didn’t have to wait long. Friday night I was settling to watch a DVD I’d rented, with a beer by my side and a packet of chips, when the phone rang. I checked the caller ID before I answered and saw ‘private’. That meant either my friend Elaine who used a silent number since a rather unfortunate persistent ex-boyfriend saga a year or so back, a stranger, or Gabriel.

I may have been imagining it, but I’d swear I got a slight electric shock as I picked up the cordless receiver. In any case, in that moment I knew for certain who it would be. He had a rather lovely, mellifluous voice which what sounded like a trace of an European accent, though I might have been imagining that last bit. He just sounded ‘expensive’ in some way.

“Peter, it’s Gabriel here. I received your delivery.”

“Good, I wasn’t sure if the address would be bogus.”

“I have no need to hide in such a crass manner.”

“No, I can imagine,” I said wryly, “You have better ways to hide.”

I thought I heard a slight chuckle down the phone. I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased he appreciated my humor or frightened by how smug it made him seem. Was he just indulging me?

“Evidently.”

I decided that attack was the best form of defence.

“Good little party trick really, but it’s a bit more serious than that, isn’t it? At least it is for Natalie.”

“It’s very serious,” he replied slowly, “What is it you want Peter?”

“Nothing really, except to help.”

He laughed quite openly and audibly this time, derisive.

“Do you expect me to believe that?”

He didn’t sound offended or even shocked. He sounded vaguely intrigued and amused. Guess he wasn’t used to being discovered and this might intrigue him, or he felt so above me that he could pursue my line of thought without real care or concern.

The thing is, though, beyond that he just sounded normal, like any normal person. Not like some partially invisible freak, or some monster from a child’s nightmare. It made me quite bold, that sensation he gave off, that sense that he was more normal than not. Whether that was remotely true, of course, was entirely another matter I had no way to gauge in the moment, so I stumbled on.

“Perhaps not, but I sent the film to you, it hasn’t been sent to funniest home videos yet, if that’s what you think I’m about…”

“That could change,” he replied, with measured, silky tones.

“That won’t change. Natalie is a friend. I don’t care about you really, but I care about her.”

“Refreshing honesty!”

“Well, how could it be otherwise Gabriel? I don’t know you. We haven’t met. But, that isn’t the point of any of this. I noticed you wanted to meet Natalie, or it seemed that way. She wants to meet you. She’s rather lonely, I suppose you can imagine.”

“It seemed that way. I could see how she would be..”

“Yes, and you’ve tried to meet her, haven’t you?”

“If you expect me to play with you and deny everything that you have clearly shown on your film you are in for a disappointment Peter. Obviously I have. You know that. So do I. My question is, what is it to you?”

“Nothing, I’m curious about you, and she is too, and I’m curious about both of you. It’s a pretty interesting thing you both do. But I think you know more about it and you’re more in control of it and I think that might help her, and she’s a friend. That’s all really, that and curiosity, as I said.”

There was a moment of silence on the phone. I could feel him considering my words. I wished for a moment this wasn’t over the phone, and that we were talking face to face. Then I remembered the nausea I felt in Natalie’s company when she was anxious and I thought better of it. I felt he could make himself invisible around me if he wanted, triggering all those unpleasant disorienting symptoms, so I was safer by far talking to him over the phone. Presuming he couldn’t do it electronically as well….

“Curiosity killed the cat Peter.”

“Is that a threat?”

He laughed, this time more deeply. Something seemed to slither down the telephone line. It chilled me, making me think he could perhaps ply his effect across distances and down electrical currents. I felt vaguely repelled, wanting to hang up, but I couldn’t when I was this close.

“Not at all, couldn’t resist. Nor can I resist your offer, which is what it is, isn’t it, Peter? You’re offering to facilitate a meeting between Natalie and I?”

“Absolutely, that’s right.”

“Then I happily accept your invitation. In fact, I extend one, to both of you, to come to lunch with me, here, tomorrow, away from any eyes or distractions other than our own..”

Wow, that was easier than I thought. And so hospitable! You’d think we were casual business acquaintances arranging a pleasant business lunch. Still, it was what I wanted, so I wasn’t going to argue with ease or allow that to frighten me in some other new, fresh, inventive way.

“Perfect Gabriel, but I must confess, I do have a threat to make to you.” I said, bolder than I actually felt. He seemed to know, because I heard the irony in his voice. I felt like an ant, threatening the boot that was about to tread down upon it. Watch out, I’ll bruise your sole!

“Oh, and that is?”

“Don’t hurt Natalie. She’s such an innocent and I don’t think you are at all. Well, neither am I, so don’t even think about it.”

He laughed again, warmer this time.

“I’d never think of it Peter! I’d never hurt my own kind!”

(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved

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Schadenfreude – Two

Posted on September 20, 2015 by Helen
Image credit: Ajayptp

Image credit: Ajayptp

The fight on the net that night was a common one. It involved how obsessively some of the girls – all of them in actual fact – were about following the ‘top’ talent of the day. This usually equated with whoever had an on-going gig on television, but also performed locally and ‘live’ enough to be accessible. An interesting alchemy David hoped to emulate and perfect when his time came.

David had been around the boards and rooms for long enough now – about two years – to know that there was a flow to it. Groups of fans came and went – usually on a yearlong cycle. A pecking order existed, made primarily on length of tenure, but also on avidity of interest and the boundaries, if any, these girls had in attacking others. The ‘cool ones’ went to everything and they were vicious in their attacks on others. Anyone new who threatened their crown was immediately branded mad, delusional, stalkeresque. It didn’t matter that they were thus derided for activities that the ‘cool group’ had perfected and routinely undertook themselves. The hypocrisy was lost on them. The ‘cool’ had established their right, somehow, to be obsessive without the questioning, usually because they’d just hung on in there when they first ‘arrived’ on the boards and waited out similar accusations made about them.

Eventually they – the anointed ‘cool’ – would move on and those that had clung on despite their attacks would assume the crown and begin the attack on the newer ones again. It was like a living beast, feeding on its own young. It was predictable, reliable, and vastly entertaining.

It was in full flight that night. Lizzie, one of those Neanderthals that had waited the others out and now was part of the ‘inner circle’, or ‘elite’ as they laughingly and inaccurately labelled themselves, was deriding another girl who she saw regularly at the tapings of comedy television.

Lizzie: She was there again, she came every night, it’s pathetic and I couldn’t take photos because the stupid bitch was taking so many with a flash…
Sarah: A flash? What the…
Petrie: Everyone KNOWS that you can’t use a flash…
Lizzie: Exactly! And so it just ruined it for all of us, and it wouldn’t matter, but she tried on the other nights too, so because she was always there…
Sarah: God she’s a stalker..
Lizzie: Yes, she is, poor Anthony he must be so frightened seeing her there every night..every night..I can guarantee you she was…
Sarah: It feels like she’s stalking us now too!
Lizzie: Yeah! It does..she always wants to talk to us..she always wants to talk about Anthony..she’s obsessed with him!
Petrie: And us! And us!

At this point David burst into laughter at his terminal. They hadn’t noticed he’d stopped interacting, that his moniker ‘Vlad’ had gone silent. They were carried away. He was too amused to type. My god, someone obsessed with them? Lizzie was the size of a house, Petrie looked like someone who didn’t have a house let alone a home to go to, and Sarah always seemed like someone who should be locked up in a very special house with all white, padded walls.

Yep, you’d get obsessed with them, David thought.

You are a little obsessed with them though, said Voice, just not in a nice way. Not in a way that they’d like.

David was so amused by his internal reverie, and the others so involved in their vitriol, that no-one noticed a new moniker join the chat room. After a few more minutes of the banter, the new person decided to say something.

Schadenfreude:You girls are so hypocritical
Lizzie:What the fuck? Who are you?
Schadenfreude:Just one who notices you accuse others of doing what you do yourself, all the time
Petrie: You’re the stalker aren’t you?
Schadenfreude:How amusing, no I’m not. I can assure you. I’ve never even seen her. But I’ve seen all of you, and none of you are in a position to carry on so..
Lizzie: Be civil, I’m a moderator here, I can have you thrown out
Schadenfreude:Can you? Can you really? Well, perhaps you can..perhaps…but why would you, just because I tell the truth?
Lizzie: You don’t understand the truth, you don’t have the history..
Schadenfreude:Why do you presume that, pray tell?
Lizzie: You’re new!
Schadenfreude: Am I?
Lizzie: Or you’re someone we know playing some stupid game. I’ll check your IP number…
Schadenfreude: Be my guest..I’m no-one you know, not really, no-one at all.
Petrie: Yep, that’s right, you’re a..nobody!
Schadenfreude:LOL. That’s your best shot? But then, you always come in just a bit too late with your jokes, don’t you Petrie, and your intellect is as big as your deformed little feet..
Petrie: What the fuck…
Schadenfreude:Could you people come up with some original responses please? Or is that beyond you?

(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved

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The Others – Nineteen

Posted on September 17, 2015 by Helen
Image credit: iprostocks

Image credit: iprostocks

The issue was how to make contact with the enigmatic Gabriel. I intuited that this could be even more difficult than it had been to talk with Natalie at the club, for similar reasons, but magnified because I half suspected Gabriel was aware of his disappearing skill and played with it for fun at the expense of we other mere mortals. So approaching him at the club seemed pointless.

Gabriel was far more frightening than Natalie, perhaps because he didn’t seem even slightly vulnerable. Even as he failed, repeatedly, to approach her, he seemed irritated and frustrated at most, not defeated. Never defeated. So, personality did seem to affect things, including the knowledge of and control over the ‘ability’.

I needed to make a big splash, get his attention instantly so that I wouldn’t be overlooked and therefore exiled from his consciousness and therefore he also from mine. And his interest was in Natalie. I would be of little consequence to him, except that I’d stumbled on whatever it was that he was.

It might be a bit dangerous, I thought, and if I bumbled the introduction, then failure would haunt me, dog my every step. I couldn’t let Natalie down like that.

So I decided to take an almost indirect approach, but one sure to get his attention. I got his address from the signing in book at the club. Patrons had to give those details. George, like many club owners, demanded it in case he needed to seek restitution from anyone for vandalizing or otherwise damaging his property and premises. There was a risk that the address might be fake, but it was a place to start.

I put on a USB a ‘best of’ video of Gabriel’s magical act, and a few shots of Natalie in her invisible/visible fluctuations, and a few of Gabriel trying to approach. With it I put a short note:

“Gabriel, you will know these films aren’t doctored in any way I think. Interesting viewing for you, as it was for me. You want to meet Natalie. She wants to meet you too. It could be arranged. I think you realize how someone who is not like you could help. Destroy the USB if it doesn’t interest you. I’m extorting nothing from you. But if it does, call me – 9985 7532. Regards, Peter”.

I mailed it express post, and then I waited. That was Wednesday.

(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved

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Schadenfreude – One

Posted on September 13, 2015 by Helen
Image credit: Marie C Fields

Image credit: Marie C Fields

David was tired. He rubbed his eyes because they almost ached. On applying pressure they felt almost bruised. He knew he should turn the light on. Sunset had come and gone and now only the light of the computer screen illuminated the room. He should drag himself away from it. Hours had passed since he’d logged on.

He thought to himself, am I becoming a nerd?

Who said anything about ‘becoming’ the snide fellow Voice in his head questioned him.

Shutup Voice he thought to himself.

Voice had a point of course. He’d never been big man on campus, not even moderately large man, or relatively noticeable man. That’s why he was an accountant, no doubt. That’s also why he wanted desperately not to be one, why he pursued his more dramatic/comedic dreams with fervour he often feared was not matched by talent. But this doubt was the Voice again, he supposed.

In any case, he should be preparing his comedy routine for Open Mic this coming Friday night. It was only half done, if that, and he didn’t want to tank like last time. Sure, it was amateur hour – that’s what Open Mic was – but if you think amateur, you stay amateur. Besides, he knew certain comedy luminaries were rumoured to be attending because of some re-union thing with the person who ran the club. Extra pressure. He didn’t want to fall over in front of them. It wasn’t just pride. It was survival. He knew there were few ‘industries’ more vitriolic than comedy, and few again where news traveled any more quickly, particularly of another’s embarrassment or shame.

So he should be leaving the computer and proving at least to himself he wasn’t in thrall to it. But it was an addiction, particularly when it was at its most beguiling. Like tonight, in his favourite comedy fan chat room where the bitchiness and hyperbole was flowing freely, like cheap wine that was somehow just that bit too horrible and fascinating to refuse.

The girls in particular amused him. There were exceptions, but as a general rule if you went into comedy to get laid, you’d probably be successful, but the choice of partners would be hardly inspiring. ‘Jokies’ they were called, as opposed to groupies, and they often really were jokes. Most comedy girls he knew of, particularly the ones who also congregated to gush over the internet, were from the disaffected at school – the overweight, the plain or ugly, the socially challenged, the stupid, and the pretentious.

Rather like you Voice said.

Shutup Voice.

Not that he saw them online. David favoured chat rooms of the old fashioned variety, where the only interaction was in text, not in Skype type visuals. He wasn’t that proud of his own looks, to be honest, and also liked the mystery of the typed word rather tha the distorted visual on screen. Or at least he liked to think it was a distorted visual from the few times he had used Skype and decided that couldn’t actually be a good representation of him, the camera most certainly does lie.

Does it? Smirked Voice. He ignored Voice. There was something to be said for living in happy delusion, which probably explained much about these girls. For obviously they came to these ‘invisible’ chat rooms often enough, so something in them wanted to hide just as much as it wanted to be seen. Perhaps it was just the bitchiness of the chat rooms in general that made the inhabitants prefer to be unseen, David was not sure.

And he had to admit the very disadvantages of these girls made them more appealing than repellent to David. He liked their vulnerabilities in a way, he liked their adoration when he performed well, and he coveted its increase when he would become famous. He liked to interact with them, at least at a distance, and it was another unwritten but universal law of comedy that the up and coming comedians needed to flirt and cajole an audience into being. You could be the funniest person on the planet, but if no-one came to see you perform, you might as well have been the worst.

The internet was a good hunting ground for developing a following. And the net was also strangely intimate and personal, particularly and paradoxically if you didn’t ‘see’ each other on line. David found participating in it oddly satisfying. So for pragmatic reasons, and also for those of taste and entertainment, he spent probably far more time than was healthy on the sites and in the chat rooms that pandered to his chosen career.

And besides, when they got all delusional and competitive and bitchy, it was just plain funny. They were a comedy in themselves, though they didn’t know it. They took themselves so seriously. And that was the beauty of it.

All fine comedy revolves around the ridiculous taking itself seriously. That, and the pain of others.

(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved

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The Others – Eighteen

Posted on September 10, 2015 by Helen
Image credit: yevgeniyll

Image credit: yevgeniyll

On the screen a further mystery unfolded. Natalie had turned to look at the man and he had turned from his companion to look at her. They stood for one instant, one regarding the other, no awareness of or focus on anyone else in their field. Importantly, no-one else was watching them in this instant either. The friend had turned to say something to his companion next to him at the bar, and everyone else was occupied elsewhere. Something very odd started to happen on the film. Static covered both of them, as though their proximity and mutual awareness had created a distorted and problematic electrical current. They both seemed to struggle to be. The distorted, ugly form of the man seemed to fall back, defeated, and he disappeared, reappearing further down the bar a few moments later, ordering a drink from another of the barmaids. Natalie had disappeared completely as though the shock of the interaction had forced her into her invisible exile.

But the man was looking in the direction she had recently vacated. I zoomed in again and his eyes were intent, moving slightly from side to side and up and down as though he was seeking her out. He hadn’t forgotten her it seemed, he hadn’t forgotten to remember to look. He had a real knowledge of himself, and of her, and whatever it all meant and a better capacity to stay conscious of it in the moment.

“It’s so interesting!” I almost shouted. “Let me show you some other film of him!”

“I know who he is,” Natalie said, stretching back as I changed the film. “He’s well known in the club. But I’ve never really spoken to him or served him directly.”

“Not for want of him trying I suspect,” I said, “But it looks like that might be difficult for both of you. Who is he? What do you know of him?”

“Not much. I know his name is Gabriel.”

“Like one of the seraphim?” I remarked, laughing slightly, “That’s fitting!”

She understood the reference. “Fallen angel I think” she added, “He’s the one a lot of the girls like. But he’s also a bit strange, a bit mysterious. I think Angie, one of my colleagues, slept with him once. She never talked about it though. I thought he just probably didn’t call afterwards and hurt her pride.”

“Perhaps, or perhaps it was something else. Perhaps she forgot it happened. Anyway, I don’t think he’d be interested in her really. I think he’s interested in you.”

Natalie made a huffing sound as though to refute the stupidest of suggestions.

“Why wouldn’t he be, if he knows what he is, and he knows what you are?” I asked, “Besides, as I keep telling you, you’re very attractive.”

“Sorry,” she responded, “Force of habit.”

“Fair enough, but watch this, see what I mean. I’ve spliced a number of sequences together here, to give you the whole affect.”

Gabriel was shown to repeatedly try to approach her, or to apparently be watching her, even from the shadows. He also seemed to stay watching her even when she disappeared. It was impossible to tell from the camera angles if he actually saw her, or just an approximation of where he thought she would be. In any case, he seemed to have an unerring accuracy about which area of the bar she would re-appear on, and when she did, he was always smiling to himself. Maybe he was testing himself in some way, or testing her.

She spoke of a lacuna in the world’s fabric, I think that was her term, for how it felt to be invisible in the midst of her family. Was that it? If he couldn’t see her, could he see the lacuna? Could he sense that place that he also inhabited from time to time?

Whatever it was and whatever he knew, his individual approaches were always unsuccessful, for similar reasons to what I had seen before.

“Look, I can’t prove that he’s looking at you, but you can see it’s always roughly where you are, or where you reappear. And then, he’s always trying to get close, he’s tenacious, I’ll give him that. But it’s like coming across another like you causes something to erupt in the electrical field, to jam your frequency. But look at this, this is the closest he ever gets, he’s talking to someone you are serving, and in doing that, he looks like he’s about to try to talk to you because the frequency is still ok when there is the other person as part of it who is still aware of you both. But you get called away, just at that moment, which makes me think…”

She wasn’t following me, she was remembering the situation.

“I remember that night. I’ve been kind of aware of him but I didn’t know why. I remember feeling a bit frightened then, frightened of him. I felt a bit sea sick or something, but it passed when I served the other person…”

“I felt that, with you, the first night, because you were only just holding on, I think, to whatever purchase you have in this material world. I felt frightened of you, and a bit sick..”

“Did you? I’m so sorry…”

“I don’t think it’s your fault, and its fine now, after all, one on one is just fine, and maybe that only happens when you don’t know the other person or something, who knows. But it means that you react to him as I did to you, but the more interesting thing, if you ask me, is that some contact between you, which he clearly seems to want, was almost possible in that moment..”

“Why do you think he wants contact? Do you think he knows about himself and recognizes me?” Her voice was hushed, hopeful and a little bit dread.

“Yes. I think he does, I really do, and I think he’s figured out something, just as I have. That it is possible, it is possible for you to circumvent the frequency problem, if you have an intermediary…”

She turned and looked at me, realizing where I was going. She was shaking slightly in anticipation.

“So,” I said, “What I propose is that I am that intermediary.”

(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved

Posted in Serial Horror Stories, The Others | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Animation – Eighteen

Posted on September 6, 2015 by Helen
Image credit: Konstantin Romanov

Image credit: Konstantin Romanov

The true nature of a god is loneliness. I know this now. It is the price of such power, it follows in its wake. You cannot commune with others that are, essentially, alien to you. It is to be separate. It is to love, but always in a detached, separate way. A god will never embrace his creation. It never can be.

I know this so well. I have created the weave of life and I have taken life with it. I have murdered a woman, but as I said, I will never be charged. No-one would ever guess, or believe if they did. Still, I am imprisoned for all that, in knowledge of what I have done, what I am and what that means.

I have not seen Richard since the day and I will never see him again of his own free will, I know. He called me, a few days later, crying down the phone and telling me the news, but also saying he has no heart for this city anymore, or for anything associated with it, including the art we have been working on together.

I understand of course, and assured him of this, though my heart breaks afresh with each word. I could paint him coming to me, I could paint him changing his mind. But would he really change his mind, and who would he be then, other than a captured butterfly, pinned to my wall? Beautiful but pointless and lifeless in all essential senses.

He is my love but I will never be his. And that seems as perfect a way of thinking about a god and his creation as I can imagine.

A friend of mine once said he thought God left the world because he became bored. He’s gone, he said, and what we have left is pointlessness.

No, what we have left is the unbounded tragedy of freedom. And God has left, I believe, for he would be heartsick to realise the truth, just as I am. You can only love something with a rich inner life, something which can choose to return that love. Without that, you are lost. But in creating us, he created the very choice that would alienate us from him, and in my painting I have done the same. The same.

So I cannot paint, never again. I cannot risk my power in this world, given it has stolen the only thing that could have mattered to me. I know, deep within, that Richard would never have loved me. His love moved towards a woman, not a man. But had I not painted our meetings perhaps we would have met in any case, and genuinely, and at least I could have the genuine friendship of the man, even now. Yes, it would be attended by the bitter pain of seeing him with his love, but he would be happy. And he would truly be my friend. And perhaps that would have – should have – been enough.

But now I will never know.

The End

(c) Helen M Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved

Posted in Animation, Serial Horror Stories | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments