New Site

So I've moved to Wordpress and set up a new blog, pretty much marking the end of Art of Zo. Expect all future posts and stories on TotallyZo.com. For your convenience, clicking any part of this text will take you there.

Hey, it's because I care :)

- Zo

Sway

Sway

B y Zo Hashim

She swayed to and fro, like a fluttering escaping dream. Like sand flowing through the eye of an hourglass, it’s final resting place within sight but out of reach. Sand that flowed like time, like the melody of a song. The music filling the room with a powerful ambience of movement and lust.

The air conditioner was silent but powerful. I could feel the thump of my heart as it beat harder and faster, in lieu to my excitement, contrasted by the heavy chill in the air around me. My eyes rocked back and forth, almost fazed out, like a boat on the open seas, drinking deeply of this vast pond, wondering what secrets it’s depths hid, what treasures and perils were in store for those who braved it’s depths, perhaps never to surface again. A place where some or many may venture, depending on the whims and calls of the sea, and the depths of her desire.

She flicked her hair, a wild stallion, with hair of magenta and red. Uncontrollable, a fire that could never be put out, the spark set deep within her green eyes as she looked down at me from above, her gaze spreading evenly desire and indifference about the chill room. Her lips, parted slightly, in an eternal pout, the most desirable face she can muster. The one she would sit and practice for hours at home when she was younger, the one she would pull in all those teenage photographs. It wasn’t her real face. It wasn’t the one a lover would see in her ecstasy, nor the one a shoulder would feel in her grief. But none of that mattered as she sold her lie, to me and all the others present.

Her chest rose and fell as she moved; an exotic dance into itself. Her perfect form, cavortng itself gracefully forwards and up, dignified in its uncivil glory, her perked nipples a testament to the chill I felt. They flirted in their youth, noble and unsheltered and proud, void of the touch of plastic that she may one day yearn, designed to appeal to the fires in others.

I yearned the touch of her against me. The feel of her soft skin, that which she spent hours every day rubbing with products the companies and the media told her she needed to be beautiful. I longed for the beat of her heart against me ears, holding her close to me. I longed for the tight velvet wetness between her thighs, the sign of her woman hood, her place of ultimate surrender. The hidden pearl amidst the cataclysmic seas. The rising storm and the ebbing away of the tidal waves after.

But not today. I stood up and made my way past the small stage. Past others like it. Past more young lithe females, practicing their allure, past many like myself, forever destined to watch from the comfort of the dark. As I passed through the doorway I turned to look at her once more, our eyes locking briefly. She smiled at me, and I knew it was forced. She was relieved one less person had to watch her lay herself bare. And in that moment I knew how she cried when she went home every night. How she cursed herself for being born with the beauty she had. How she despised herself. And perhaps somewhere a part of me felt ashamed.

But that part would die out, deprived of the cold air that place pumped in. The night air outside was humid, and the warm raindrops cleansed my guilt. It was a different world in the room behind me, one that had no consequence to the world outside. I did not see her or love her in this world, this world where she cried and didn't feel beautiful.

But I would be back the next day. Just like she. And I would play my part as she played hers, destined, locked together to fate and the flowing sands.

The End.

The Well

By Zo Hashim

(Dedicated to Sarah F. and her awesome boobs.)

The weariness was staggering.

I gasped for air, sharp bursts of respite that brought both life and pain with each drag. Sweat covered me in a fine glazed sheen, mingled with upturned dirt from my heavy footfalls on the ground. I paid them no heed, instead focusing on my goal. I kept moving forward.

Tree branches and the tendril like hands of smaller entities blocked my path and I dug through as best I could, wedging a path with my tiring hands, adorned with a latticework of cuts and welts. I ignored them. It was beyond my ability to function fully; the fever and heat and driven me half mad, and I knew my mind was reaching its limit.

I stumbled through the green growth before me and staggered a little, taken off guard by the fact that I was no longer in the tight confines of the jungle, but rather a clearing too near and perfect in shape and size to have been naturally formed.

I retreated a little, back into the cover of the tree line. While in the jungle I was harried and beaten by the elements and the spirit of the forest, it still served as protection, a kind of maternal embrace, hiding me from the naked brazenness this open space offered.

Slowly I built up my courage and crept forward.

The grass on the ground was immaculate and untouched yet well kempt, like the pet project of a secret gardener far from the prying and envious eyes of neighbors. My eyes trained forward, adjusting to sight so alien from all I had seen these past days.

There was a well, centered in the clearing. It was of a smooth dark stone, the type of which I was not familiar with, but my knowledge of things masonic was limited. Still it struck me as a kind that was not common. It portrayed a shine akin to shimmering silver and I found myself drawn toward it inexplicably. As I walked forward I felt the weariness lifting from me, my back straightening, my mind reasserting its natural calm, my cracked and bleeding skin stitching itself shut and smoothing without a trace.

I did not notice these things ,for my mind, eyes, ears, and every other sense were locked on the beautiful being that sat on the rim of the stone well.

She was graceful, her naked skin tinged with a hint of regal, calming green, her body lithe and sensuous. Her limbs moved with grace and allure. I blushed, or would have at least, had I not been so utterly captivated by her beauty. Her perfect breasts, defiantly thrust up when she crooked her back, the scent of her invading my senses, filling my mind with thoughts and ideas from beyond the capabilities of my imagination.

Her wild hair, red as drying blood, gently swayed in the wind as she set her eyes upon me, deepest of blue I had ever seen.

She smiled a little and I felt a tug on my soul, drawing me closer to her, till I was close enough to feel the promise of warmth emanating from her.

Wryly she leant forward and whispered in my ear. She told me not who she was, but what she represented was left to no doubt.

“Three wishes?” I asked, a little cautious.

She smiled, mouthing words softly, her voice a breeze on the gentle winds. “Three. No more, no less.”

“What is the catch? What do you get from this?”

She smiled wider, a lion on the scent of its prey. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

I knew what I wanted. I knew why I had come here. Why I had sought her out. I fell to my knees before her as I began to cry.

“I want to be happy.”

I suddenly felt a change in my feelings, my emotions churning, before they settled again on what they had been.

“I do not understand. Nothing has changed.”

She smiled that knowing smile. “For there to be happiness, there has to be sadness. The two are in eternal balance. Without one, the other cannot be.”

“You don’t understand. This pain I feel, it is beyond any other.”

“How could you know this?”

I cleared my tears. My second wish. “I want to be able to see the happiness and sadness of others.”

She touched my forehead and I gasped as awareness of the emotions of others crept into my consciousness. From hundreds of miles away I could sense them, living their lives, feeling their feelings, free from the knowledge that someone could be watching them. I saw the heaviness in their hearts, some much greater than mine, yet they struggled on with their lives. How did they keep going.

My tears flowed heavier now. I could not bear the burden any longer. “Please. I wish to die. I wish to be free of this.”

She looked at me for a moment, then very slowly took my face in her hands. Helping me rise to my feet she pressed her gentle form against me, causing the heat within me to rise. She kissed me.

My eyes forced themselves open. I did not know where I was. Disorientation settled and slowly I took in my surroundings. I was back in my home. It’s walls were barren, our possessions smashed and shattered, memories and stories from my life broken and scattered like pots of clay.

My beloved lay at my feet, her body still cold and twisted. Lifeless. Even in death her beauty was astounding.

I braced myself for the flood of tears, but they never came. I stood watching her, for a long while, till she was nothing more than the ghost of a memory, a hint at something that had once been. I turned away.

I felt nothing.

The End.

Secrets

Secrets
By Zohaib Hashim

I looked up at the stars. Probably the same way hundreds before me have looked upon them, making their wishes, observing their beauty, sharing their deepest darkest secrets. The stars were a gentle listener, always promising something more than was immediately there. Many secrets lay hidden beyond their veils, secrets from our pasts. Secrets to shape our futures. Secrets that we would never know.

He moaned a little as I stroked his excitement, and the timbre in his voice sent shivers up my spine, much more heightened by the way he stroked me gently too. We lay beside each other, looking at the stars that would keep our secrets.

I turned to look at him gently, stroking his rough face with my hand. He in turn closed his eyes, enjoying the tumultuous depths of our serene moment; the inner cacophony that raged bright, not betrayed by the calm exterior.

He clenched his hand tightly in my hair as he stroked me faster with the other. The inner fire continued to build, seeking a release. Rooting out that one source of escape from whence it burst forth, shattering the external calm, creating a sweet gentleness within as the flames died down to a gentle ember, a great flame within that the spirits of our desire would toil endlessly to reignite continuously till the far years of our lives. We were breathing heavy, and looking upon one another, we smiled.

We turned to face the sky again. The stars smiled down on us, soaking us within the comfort of their illuminating radiance. In the distance, I saw a large cloud. It was moving slow, and I knew one day it would blot the stars above. But it was not today, not in this moment, and that I would not let be ruined.

He sat up slowly, looking out at the distant horizon. I sat up beside him, following his gaze. We sat in silence, gazing at the distant skyline. At the rises and falls in the land painted in eerie tones of gold and orange, the final dregs off the palette of the setting sun. I narrowed my eyes as the wind picked up, blowing specks of dust in my face from the arid planes below.

He slowly stood, dragging the moment kicking and screaming back by its heels to the reality we lived in.

He turned to me and gave me a gentle smile. “I should go. She will be waiting for me.”

I faltered a little before I returned his gesture. “When will I see you again?”

“Soon.” He left me sitting there as he made his way down the stepped hill we had been laying on. I sat a while more, looking out into the wilds as the light failed. Finally I too stood up to make my way back. I looked off to the east, at the ruins of the great civilization that had once been.

The ruins and spires went high into the air, strong walls of stone and steel. Streets of stone, interlaced by steel lines thick and thin, like the many lines of veins and arteries coursing through a body to keep it alive. To keep this civilization teeming.

I looked up at the sky one last time, at the stars which knew all. They would never tell us what had happened here, but that could not be changed. We all have our secrets and we must keep them how best we can, and gain from them what we will. I slowly made my way down the hill, putting the thoughts out of my mind.

Tomorrow would be another day.

The Door

It was warm.

Not the pleasant warm you feel as you climb into the bath. Or the warm you feel at the beach on a sunny day.

It was the kind of warm you felt sick in, where sweat would mesh fabric to flesh; nature’s pungent glue. It was like the warmth you felt in your face after you got caught lying; it was the texture of shame.

I had walked on the landing enough times before to know where the creaky planks were. She’d had a long argument with him once about when he’d finally fix them. He’d nodded absently, his eyes still on the TV set; his sentient thumb cranking up the volume as her tone rose, then lowering it as hers ebbed away. There was some game show on TV. It wasn’t very good. I sat in the corner of the room, watching them both, invisible.

There were three doors on the landing – four if you counted the one I had come through, the dusty, dank room behind me well suited for my needs, draped in darkness deeper than the night. A darkness whose embrace was softer than silk. I yearned its embrace and seeked it always, its caressing strokes soothing me with its anonymity and blind love.

Monty Hall’s chiming, jolly voice ran through my head as I remembered the old reruns of Let’s Make a Deal that used to be on TV.

“Let’s see what’s behind door number one!”

The audience cheered and clapped, whistling, urging me on. I pleaded them for silence, but it was a token gesture. I was pleading for my heart to beat more silently. There was no sound, except the gentle rustlings of a zephyr outside the window at the far end of the landing. The old Elm tree in the garden scratched at the glass, its wizened branches like the gnarled claws of some aged being, dancing in the wind, rejoicing at the sudden respite from the heat, attempting desperately to catch our attention to come outside and to share in its merriment. We would laugh, sit under his branches and sip lemonade, as he would dote over us like an adoptive mother. Or father. I didn’t really know the gender a wizened Elm would choose. Perhaps it would be both. Then when it died, as all things die, both mother and father would be buried together, and be so forever.

The door was creaky and my heart jumped every time it creaked, a shrill scream in the silent dark. Finally it was ajar, and I crept in.

The girl was six. Her room was decorated in pinks and purples, amongst other colours one would casually associate with young girls. A fat bear sat staring at me. It was rugged brown – perhaps a little more brown than it had been originally. Dirty. One of its button eyes had fallen off somewhere, victim to the tour of service he would serve with a child. It had been replaced by an ill matched replacement. It was still staring at me, with its one good eye. The other, I fancied as a monocle of sorts. It was a noble bear. A filthy noble bear that needed a wash.

I sighed. It was getting late. I looked down at her once more. She was not of my concern. She was always good to me. To her I did not have to be invisible.

Time warped, as it always seemed to do, and I stood before the door to Room Number Two. It was tall – far taller than I. It grew taller and taller as I approached and I fancied this was solely my own interpretation of planar distance as opposed to the intimidation I felt – but I knew better. The brass knob was gleaming. I hesitated to touch it. In my mind it was red hot. Were I to touch it, it would forever be engraved on my hand, a reminder of the deed I had done. People would recognize it on the street and accordingly would react. I would meet others who had done the same and would sympathize with me, and those who would shun me, not able to understand the reason behind why the door must be crossed. The mark on my hand would be the ultimate catalyst for all the human interactions in my life.

I banished the fears from my mind, taking a broom to idea and sweeping it away. I took a breath and clasped the knob tightly. I did not turn it for fear had returned to me in its fullness and in my fear I had mistaken the deep cold of the knob for searing heat. As realisation came to me I began to ease up. I was sweating, beads forming on my brow, running into my eyes, their salt stinging. I wiped at it then ignored it, knowing it would be back later.

Slowly I turned the handle, my knuckles gleaming white against the pressure I was exerting on the cold, smooth surface. Painfully bright in the envelopes of darkness that were now gathering along the landing. Outside, I fancied the howling of a wolf, far off in the distance, as the fresh clouds move across the sky, blotting out the moon. I could imagine the moon, swimming desperately to stay afloat of the darkness that was swallowing him, trying desperately to remain aloof and shine. He would lose the battle tonight.

The door was open, and I forced myself to not think. To not feel. To only do. I stepped in.

The room was less colourful. It was decorated primarily in earthy shades. Browns and black. There was leather on the chairs. A single painting hung on the wall at the head of the bed. At the far side, the window was open and sneaky zephyr had changed its name, sneaking in and going every which way it could, like a silent pervert, sniffing at the possessions of man as much as it could before it was time for it to fade.

She lay on her back. He lay on his front. She was facing up. He was facing away. One of his arms was loosely draped across her naked chest, an unintentional attempt to guard her modesty. Her hair was spread out roughly. She hated it like that. Both of them were sweating, breathing deeply. Their bodies glistened in the dim light, like fantastical gladiators after a great battle. I looked from one to the other. I clenched my fists and teeth tight to stop from screaming.

She was mine. I was always invisible to her, but she was still mine. He had no right to hold her like that. Her body belonged to me.

He roused and I gasped. For a fleeting moment I had fancied them dead, forever frozen in that final position of repose eternal, basking in the gentle darkness and the pleasant wind. He opened his eyes and blinked, looking at me, confused for a second.

“You okay, buddy?”

She woke up too, covering herself and leaning up. “Is he okay?” she said to him.

He waited for me to respond, and when I didn’t he stood up and walked to me. I heard the joints in his back crack. He reminded me of the old tree outside. Picked me up and carried me out of the room.

I wanted to struggle, but I knew it was no use. He carried me past the last door, back the way I had come. I stared at the final door. The third door.
It was a beautiful door. Not because of how it looked, but rather, because I knew what it represented. It was the final door. Behind it was the final answer. The frame was a plain mahogany, not extravagant in its depiction, but in my mind’s eye, it shone like a beacon of light, to rob me from the clutches of the comfortable darkness I forever resided in. I knew it would tear me free. I knew it would hurt. But I was ready to no longer be invisible. I did not need the darkness anymore.

I am ten years old. He laid me on my bed and I knew I would not get the answer tonight. It was the same every time. I would never get to the final door. I would never understand why. Around me my friends the shadows came and hugged me, cheering me up. They comforted me and stroked my head with their many hands. Their claws raked my face, gently, sensually, and I felt myself gently being tugged into sleep.


End.

The Passage of Time

I woke up, turning my head slightly to one side to see the screen of my phone staring back at me, judging me, displaying the time like a bright neon light outside a seedy bar. It was past noon. There were no morning text messages to brighten my day. There wouldn’t be anymore.


“Fuck.”


I rubbed my face with my hands. I didn’t have much time to get ready.

I slowly climbed out of bed, taking my time. I tried my best to concentrate on what I was feeling. The numbness. That blank slate of sensation you feel as soon as you wake up, before your mind has time to remind you of why you should be hurting. It was the best part of my day.

Someone had fucked up when they said that love and pain comes from the heart. When you don’t remember what you’ve lost you don’t hurt at all. You just feel... empty.

I crave that emptiness. I rely on it more and more nowadays. And so I sleep a lot. And I cherish those few moments before the reality of it sinks in again.

I made my way to the bathroom. There was no window and I had left the heating on all night. It was like a hotpot and I began to sweat. I didn’t really care. I looked at myself in the mirror, at the ghastly, haggard, ghost of a person I had become. I began to feel my eyes welling up again, stinging against the dry morning deposits at the sides of my eyes. I rubbed them clean and looked away. I couldn’t look at myself anymore. Not like this.

I brushed my teeth and washed my face, hoping to God that the water would wash away some of the pain. It didn’t. I didn’t bother with my hair.

I went back to my room and looked through the closet, trying to find my black suit. Perusing through my clothes, I wonder, which of those suits would be the last one I’d wear? I put the thought out of my mind, pulling on a fresh white shirt and a dark tie. It wasn’t my day today.

My phone rang just as I finished pulling on my jacket and did my tie. God that ring tone was fucking annoying. Why had I kept it all these years anyway? Too fucking melodic. I wanted the world to feel what I felt, to share the loss. I wanted that fucking singer to redo his lyrics to honour me.

I picked it up. “Yeah?” My voice sounded hollow, almost like a whisper. It had been hoarse for days, the large bruise on it just beginning to fade. It was Katie.

“Hey, I’m downstairs. Come on out when you’re ready, ok?”

“Kay.”

I hung up and took one last look in the mirror. I looked fucking disgusting. It didn’t matter, I had done enough. On the way out I felt the pangs of sickness hit me like a truck and I just managed to bend over the toilet in time, vomiting violently. I hadn’t eaten much the last few days. It was mostly just liquid.

I checked to see I didn’t have any on my clothes, and then hit the flush. I walked out of my apartment, realising at the last minute that I didn’t have my keys and stopping the door in time. I’d started forgetting a lot more stuff lately. I grabbed them from the counter on the side and began walking down the hallway stairs.

Katie was parked outside. It took me a second to get in the car. I didn’t want to be in a car. Not yet. My mind kept flashing back to the night.

Katie smiled at me as I sat down, trying to encourage me.I was silent for a while, then spoke. “I... I should have listened to her. She said she was tired. Jimmy was already asleep. We should have just stayed at her parents the night.”

I had needed to finish a project and I reckoned if we’d set out at 11, I could be home and have it done before 1 in the morning. That would free up the rest of my weekend morning. I’d been driving them home. But that truck, it just....came out of nowhere.

My boss had told me to take as much time off as I needed. That project was still lying there, undone.

Katie reached out, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, David.”

I nodded slowly, fighting the tears. I wouldn’t cry today. I’d already cried enough.



Burying the ones you love is the hardest thing there is for a man to do. I stared, blanked out, at the two coffins before me. One contained the love of my life, the other the pride and joy. I had been robbed of all three things in one swoop.

The day just seemed to be on fast forward. I didn’t really feel the reality of the situation till I saw the earth trickling from my hands on to the twin mahogany graves. Tears filled my eyes and I couldn’t stop them. I hated myself for it. I wiped at them furiously, smudging dirt on face. What a fucking spectacle.


Katie drove me home. We sat in her car outside my house.

“Do you want me to come in? Do you need anything?”

I shook my head.

She wanted to say more but stopped. “Just call me if you need someone to talk to, ok? I’m here for you.”

She hugged me and it felt good. I turned to her and kissed her, suddenly, unexpectedly. She pushed me back, stunned.

I... was lost for words. I didn’t know what had just happened there. “I... I’m sorry.”

I got out of her car. She got out behind me.
“David, wait!” She called out to me but I kept walking. I got up to my apartment and put on all the locks. I put my back to it and sat there, waiting to hear the sound of footsteps up the stairs, waiting to pretend like I wasn’t against the door, holding my breath to stay as silent as possible. The steps never came. I began to cry again.

I went over to the TV and put it on. It was the news. Some new disaster somewhere. Hundreds dead. I didn’t care. I wanted to watch the world burn itself.


*


Time passed. That reality is inevitable, no matter what’s going on in the world. War. Peace. Famine. Plagues. Unrest. Violence. Time would still past, no matter what else remained inconstant.

At first it was hard to get past each day, but I kept with it. Kept taking each day on its own merits. I forced myself to think about them less and less and gradually it became a reflex action. I forced myself to drown in my work and that’s what I did.

Me and Katie stayed friends, even after that royal fuckup. I guess true friends do forgive one anothers indiscretions and moments of weakness. I would see her from time to time, but we both knew there wasn't going to be that kind of a relationship between us. I was glad. I needed her more as a friend than anything else. I wasn't ready to see anyone. Not yet.


*



I met her about a year later. We were both at the same coffee shop, trying to beat the morning rush on the way to work. Our orders got mixed up. Hers was the cappuccino, mine was the iced tea. We started to talk. And before I knew it, I had her number. I didn't even know her name then.

I don’t know why I called her. I definitely wasn’t ready. She was amazing though. Her intelligence, her laughter, her smile. The shine of her red hair set in a rebellious fashion, the bold proper style of her dress. I was nervous out of my mind but she put me at ease. She finally told me her name.

Before we knew it, it became a longer term thing, and one morning I realised I had gone a whole day without thinking about my dead wife and son. She lay in bed beside me,asleep, exhausted after our passionate love making. I felt guilty again. I wanted to throw up.

Somehow she read my mind and sat up behind me, hugging me from behind, her warm naked breasts pressing into my back. She kissed my neck and whispered reassurances in my ear, and the ghosts went away.

She whispered beautiful things and promised many more, and then told me she had a secret to tell me. I asked what it was, but she promised that the day I was ready to hear it, she would tell me.


I started recovering. Stopped blaming myself. Stopped blaming the world. I still missed them, but the remembrance wasn’t a revolting illness that kept me from the colours of life anymore. And then I realised that was the time she had been waiting for, when I would be ready to move on with my life.

She held me close, put her lips to mine, and kissed me softly. She trailed her lips across my cheek, breathing her warm breath on my face, then gently nibbled once at my ear. Then she told me the secret she had been saving.

“I love you.”And the truth was? I loved her too.


The End

Penitence

A jet of cold water splashed down on me, deadening my nerves, causing me to jerk awake, gasping for breath.

起來!

The guard kicked me hard in my stomach, and I groaned, as already sore muscles went into another violent contraction. I spat out the small amount of blood that had collected in my mouth on the stone floor, and blinked, trying to adjust my eyes to the sudden appearance of light beyond the door.

在您的脚, 间谍!

Two more dark shadows materialized out of the light, and hauled me up to my feet. My knees gave way and I stumbled. Promptly, something hit me hard in my stomach, causing me to clench my teeth, as spittle flew out. My feet were dragging across the rough stone slates of a dimly lit corridor. The walls were stone too, and bare light bulbs hung every dozen feet, casting dull light.

They pulled me into a room darker than my cell and put me in a steel chair stained with dried blood. The pulled my arms behind my back and fastened them to the chair. A bright light came on over head, causing spots to appear in my eyes.

I coughed a few times, trying to regain regular breathing. A man slowly walked into the shadows beyond the bright light, his outline barely visible. I closed my eyes. I knew what was coming.

谁您服务为?

He spoke calmly, and I strained to understand something. Anything. Time passed. He laughed, then motioned to a man behind me. A bucket of hot water was tipped over my head. I screamed as the water scalded me. It was a strange sensation. It deadened the pain somewhat. But then it returned in full force, and I sat shuddering, straining against my shackled wrists, wanting to fall forward on the ground and die.

More time passed. The man's footsteps wrung loud on the stone. Slowly he turned back to face me; or rather, his silhouette did. "Why do you pretend to not understand?"

I blinked. That was the first time I had understood what they said since…I couldn’t remember how long I'd been there. I didn’t know where there was. I could hardly remember anything before waking up in the stone cell I woke to everyday.

I didn’t remember coming to China. That’s where they said I was. I didn’t remember anything before China. I couldn’t remember my name, or any one else's. All I could remember was a red ball, bouncing on a concrete driveway.




They would bring me out, day after day, beating me mercilessly. I would cry myself to sleep at night, the cold stone floor the only comfort against the welts on my skin. Every day, the same thing would happen, and I knew I would die here. They would ask me questions, again and again. I couldn’t understand.


为什么您是在中国?

They tied me to a chair that day, and tore of my shirt. A man came and roughly ran a razor over parts of my chest and torso, nicking me and shaving the hair carelessly. A second came, dumping a bucket of water over my head. The first brought back a pair of thick needles, connected to wires, leading off to somewhere I could not see. I realized what he was going to do. "No, please. Please, don’t!" I cried for my life, tears streaking my already wet face. The man roughly held me down, and pushed the two needles under my skin. I shouted in pain. I don’t know for how long, and I think I passed out.

A second bucket was emptied over my head. I blinked, trying to get the freezing water out of my eyes. The pain in my chest numbed slightly in the cold, but not enough for me to ignore the sharp metal protruding, wires leading off somewhere.

The slow sound of footsteps was all I heard on the floor. The cold, stone floor. I yearned for it, back in my cell, the only place where I knew I was going to be safe, if only for a while.

击中他以六十伏特.

A steady buzzing filled my ears and my body seized up as electric currents ran over me. I struggled to scream. My tongue clung to the roof of my mouth, my throat emitting a deep guttural sound. I struggled to breath. Control of my body evaded me and I soiled myself.

And then it was over. And again. And again.




They dragged me back to the cell, leaving me lying in the center as the door, the only source of light, closed on me. I began to cry. The red ball bouncing. It was all I could remember. I swear, it was all I could remember.

My hand raised and fell, raised and fell, and it took me a while to realize I was mimicking the motion of the red ball. Bouncing away. My hand, slapping off the cold floor. The red ball. The red hand, stained with my dried blood. I began to laugh and cry. I don’t know which first. I don’t know which last.




"Honey, look! David is walking!"

I awoke with a start and I felt I almost remembered something. Something important. And as I grasped desperately at the fleeting memory of a dream, it slipped from me too. I was still on the cold floor. I tried to move, but my body protested. I lay there, looking above me at the damp roof. I thought I could hear rain somewhere. I thought I could almost feel the sunlight on my face. I could imagine it all when I closed my eyes. I laughed hoarsely, then began to cry again.

"Oh my God! James, David is out on the street!"

I jumped up from the table, dropping my mug of coffee to the ground as I ran full sprint out of the front door towards the street. I could see little David, running after his red ball as it bounced forward. He laughed, carefree.

Horrified, I looked up the street as a car swerved into the lane. David was hidden behind a parked car. The driver wouldn’t see him until it was too late.

I ran forward screaming for David to come back. Behind me I could hear Grace screaming too, as she struggled forward behind me, her six months pregnant body not agreeing with her.

I got to the curb and was about to leap forward. And then I realized something, in the tiniest fraction of a second before I leapt.

If I jumped, I could push David ahead and save him maybe, but I would die. If I didn’t move, David would die and I would be saved.

Suddenly, my body seized up. I couldn’t move. I could hear Grace screaming behind me but I just stood rooted on the spot as I watched the black sedan hit my five year old son.

I watched his little red ball, bouncing to the other side of the street. A ball he'd never play with again.




I wailed loudly as my tears came, the memory of losing David returning afresh. I screamed in anguish, wishing to God I could turn back time and just jump. Fucking jump.

看如他准备好谈话。

The key jingled loudly in the lock and the door flew open, flooding my small cell with light. I blinked away tears and clawed hopelessly at the ground, the cold ground of the cell, my only refuge, but the guards dragged me out of the door and towards another interrogation chamber.

They sat me down on another cold, metal chair, strapping my arms and feet down. I looked around wildly, trying to see what they would throw my way. I heard footsteps approaching and then a voice spoke.

"是您准备好... talk now, spy?"

"Huh? What did you say?" Slowly, knowledge was coming back to me. The languages I knew, the people I worked for. The faces of those I had killed and the jobs I was to do for my government. I smiled slightly.

The interrogator leaned forward.

"I said, are you ready to talk now, spy?"

I grinned, a mad glint coming into my eye as darker knowledge flooded into my head. Cramming it full, making it hurt. And the red ball. The red ball was still bouncing.

I looked the interrogator in the eye and slowly whispered something incoherent.

"What was that?" He leaned forward and suddenly I lunged forward, biting with my teeth. He screamed as he fell backwards, trying to clutch at his torn throat where I had bitten a chunk free. I twisted my arms into very precise motions, wrenching them free of the inferior straps. One of the two guards in the room leapt forward, swinging a baton my way while the other made for the exit, screaming for assistance. I grabbed the first mans arm as he swung, twisting his wrist till I heard the melodious crack. He dropped the baton and with my free hand, I threw it precisely, striking the second man on the back of the head, causing him to collapse in a heap. I pulled the first man by the arm towards my chair, hacking him in the throat with tenses fingers. He collapsed to the floor, gasping for the last breaths he would ever take.

Calmly I undid the straps on my legs and stood up. My body was in pain but I had been taught to ignore it. I was focused. But all I could think about was the red ball, bouncing.

I walked to the second guard, turning him over onto his back. He was dazed, and I fixed that by stamping on his face repeatedly. My foot was slick with his blood and I wiped it on his jacket before reaching down for his set of keys.

The interrogator was still gurgling, blood spilling between the hands he had pressed to his throat. I knelt forward and pulled him to his feet.

He rasped to me. "Who…who are you? What do you want?"

I smiled. I knew what I had to do. I dragged him to the chair and sat him down roughly. I leaned over to the small metallic table beside, reaching for a large cleaver. I held each of his hands out, chopping them. He screamed and wailed for mercy, but I would not give it. I strapped him in and stuck the pins for the electrocution equipment into his chest, turned it to full voltage and let him sizzle and cook, his eyes popping and skin burning.

I clambered out of the prison building. How, I don’t know. But I kept moving, towards the evac point that would undoubtedly be waiting for me, regardless of the situation I may have landed myself in. What was important was done. All that was left was the red ball bouncing. The one thing I could not forgive myself for. The one thing I had to keep living for, as an eternal punishment.


End.