Notebook 2 - Chapter 8

Well, aren’t you so into god worship, JJ. I like this notebook, it’s roomy, but also concise. You will suffer having to write so small, of that I’m certain. See, that’s why you shouldn’t… Focus! This writer drifted off into a daydream. He dreamed of winning the lottery, poor sod. Argh! It’s so annoying! My speech, my language, the phrases I use. Do you realize what you should not do? You’re like a cultural sponge, influenced far too much by culture-specific phrases and the like. Since you use that mind to let me roam free, I get saturated with the backwash.

“I know, Finn,” he says. “Do you wish for me to take a break until I’m reset to a more nominal English?”

No way. I know what’s brewing in your mind, JJ. Do you think anyone cares about your real life? What a boring story that would be, only living in the mind because the world is too scary to venture out into. That’s what you would be in it, JJ, a pure and simple coward, a frozen child in your own words. It’s not a justified life you lead, and had the world known of your failings, they would dispose of you in manner of criticisms.

“Heh, you know, Finn,” he says. “You remind me of my brother a little bit. I don’t know what it is about you, but for a character I’ve thought up, you’re quite down-to-earth about things. I highly despise those who hold a balloon of dreams down with the iron ball of reality.”

So you hate your brother? You hate me?

“Parts of you, yes,” he says. “I love both of you, for plenty of reasons, but some aspects of you two are just so drowning.”

“Man, writing in here is so cramped!” he says and I laugh in his mind.

Can it contain my story? Is it enough space to take me where you promised? What is that anyway?

“All in good time, my impatient friend,” he says. “For now, let’s return to your story. I need to weave a secret tale into you, a soul looking for love who finds more than expected. That will open your vision to the grandeur of what exists around you.”

Wait! I- I changed my mind! Don’t make me into this- this deranged fantasy!

“You are a deranged fantasy, Finn,” he says with a smile. “Why deny this? You’re a character who shares the mind of his author. You have a will over me in some form, but I’d never let you take over. There are too many already fighting for control. Whoa, beast just took me on a road trip of insanity. The ‘me’ you know is a mix of two, a cooperation of two quarters in my mind. You should fear what you’d become if only one was in control.”

My writer’s mind is a scary place. You see, a monster lurks within, and will not remain so chained and caged. That is the nature of a beast, to struggle and survive. Yet this beast will never take up a pen, will never talk to me or make me talk. My existence is purely from half of JJ’s mind, the quarter that cares without pause, and the quarter that controls at the risk of known mental instability.

Perhaps, JJ. Maybe some would like to read about your mind, but I do not believe they would be the audience you seek. The mind’s a curious thing. It puzzles me so as I was never one, born from an idea as I was.

“Best not dwell on it, Finnelgamin,” he says. “I like having you away from the story to speculate on life, and yet it must continue, change, grow, and evolve. Do enjoy the written pleasures while they exist.”

Stop stalling. You dread continuing my story on this restricted charting. I take great pleasure in your suffering. You dare stop and rewrite this in another place, and I will do everything I can to let beast loose inside your mind. Let’s get on with it. I want to be with Fiona again. I want to feel her skin against mine, her lips connected to mine, her heartbeat aligned with mine as we move in the heat of passion. Do you understand how much of a pain it is to ask another person when I can have sex? You might think that when you step away, I’m going at it with her, but that’s a lie. Nothing occurs when the pen is away from my neck.

“Sorry,” he says.

However much detail you describe, that much detail is in my eyes. The scene of well-defined sexual intercourse is unavoidable unless you do not wish for me to ever be in that wild moment. All I can be is at the will of my writer. I don’t even care if the scene scares you, or turns you on, bleeds your heart to another body. Give me that heat, that attraction, those gentle fingertips gliding on my skin. Give me a memory I can always go back into and I will never ask you to define it again. It causes some pain that I cannot comprehend, yet thanks to you, I can.

“In time,” he says. “It’s not that you won’t escape the forest, but you will be different when you do, or Fiona will be.”

Don’t spoil it for the audience. They can’t see into our shared mind, and yet you tell them of things that will happen before they occur. Why? Leave them out of it. This exchange lacks the flavor of life that my story brings forth.

“Our story, Finn,” he says.

Right. Our story, about me. Ownership is a strange beast.

“It’s not often an idea can develop a mind of its own,” he says. Am I really the person of this story, or is that just a photocopy of me that holds onto the girl of my dreams? I’m not sure of anything anymore.

alter

“Morning,” Fiona said, gliding her hands underneath my arms and down my stomach. Her breasts pushed at my back. What followed was a morning delight for another time. “I’m so glad we took a week off.”

“Me, too,” I said with a heart still racing from the sexual session. “Getting back into my work routine is going to be such a pain. I just want to stay with you in this forest forever. Let’s disappear! We can start a life in the wild. You could wear a bear-fur thong with a squirrel tail bra. I’d probably have a wolf pelt around my waist for quick access.” She nuzzled my lips with her nose and then kissed them.

“Don’t be silly,” she countered. “I’m no longer a wild girl.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I cut in.

“I’m a city dweller,” she continued. “I’m used to having everything close to home. I love the variety of cultures and the foods they bring. There is just no turning away from curry, Finny.” Her hand interlaced mine under the covers.

“Did you just call me ‘Finny’?” I asked with a grin.

“Oh, my deepest apologies, Lord Finnelgamin,” she said, gathering the covers to remain covered standing on the bed. She had all the coverings, and looked me over with a devious smile.

“I hate my first name,” I said, turning my head away as she bowed. With a quick lunge, I yanked the sheets from her grip to expose her, but she did not bat an eyelash. Her figure was so still and proud that I had to reach out to her. Before I could touch anything, Fiona took off naked into the kitchen. The chase was on, and I was ready for another tumble in the grass. A cooking fantasy of mine lit up in my head, with vegetables and certain fruits in place of vital body parts. I sprung to my feet to follow her without bothering to get dressed. To my surprise and shame, there were two other people standing at the glass front door.

Fiona stood there naked, unashamed of her nudity as both the visitors had already seen her that way. I, on the other hand, was a new sight to at least Monika who was there with Luke.

“See? I told you I’m bigger!” Luke shouted through the mostly glass door while pointing directly at my crotch. Monika’s eyes followed the finger to catch me bare and primed for sex. Her face blushed crimson in the white light outside, but kept staring. I ducked into the floor, feeling the shag carpet cradle my fading erection.

“WHAT THE HELL?” I shouted. It felt like only Monika and I were really embarrassed by this event. “Why are the two of you here?”

“Luke drove,” Moni said. “He said it was an emergency. I’m so sorry we interrupted what looked like a fun morning.”

“No worries, Moni,” Fiona said. She walked over and threw a dish towel over my butt. “Oh, better yet a blanket. It’s not like it matters. She already saw you naked and hard. I bet she’s due for a sex dream about you and Luke doing her together.”

“Damnit, Fi,” Luke said. “Now you got me thinking about it. He turned and started moving his hand over his crotch. Fiona jumped to it, but Monika got to him first and led him outside.

“Did he just-?” I asked.

“Yeah, he can’t resist it sometimes,” Fiona replied. “He once did it in public, and so now I’m his guardian. Damn these fragile bodies, right?” I stood up and lingered on her naked figure. There was no time for it.

“Any idea why they’re here?” I asked, while wrapping a blanket around my waist.

“Luke wouldn’t bother us if it wasn’t something urgent,” she said, covering herself up with the dish towel I discarded for the blanket. Only her chest remained bare, but she did not mind it. I redressed with the basic shirt and Fiona slipped on some shorts.

“Oh, the things I could do to you right now,” I said, watching Fiona bend over to pick up the top she wore last night.

“Later, I promise,” she said, putting on her lavender blouse. Monika and Luke were already coming back in.

“Sorry about that,” Moni said. “His impulse control is a bit iffy. Say you’re sorry, Luke.”

“My bad for enjoying myself,” he said without a drop of sarcasm. His eyes turned serious for a moment. I’d never seen his face so serious before.

“They found us out,” he said. “Home’s no longer safe. I dispatched the tethers before we left.” With that, his face turned back to his blissful dumb look as he cradled Monika’s breast over the blouse only to have her slap it away. I was speechless, but ran his words through my mind over and over. Who found who out? I found Fiona looking out into the forest.

“Sorry to have to tell you this, Luke,” she said. “But I think you led them right to us. We have to go, now!” Luke took Monika into his arms and followed Fiona out the front door. I was being pulled along through the woods, like some child. Luke and Moni followed close behind. Once we got away from the cabin, a bright beam of orange light descended to scorch the wooden house out of existence. This could not be real. I was still asleep, and this had to be another strange dream of mine, just like that one dream. That… Dream…

“Finn!” Fiona shouted as my hand slipped from her grip. Some smaller beams cut the forest up around her, but she avoided gracefully. They burned through trees and kicked ash into the air. Without her grip, I was the one mortal on the battlefield of orbital lasers, and death was coming to collect.

“FIONA!” I shouted as a beam came down between us, cutting a tree in half at a diagonal. I saw it budge to gravity and rush toward me, but a purple beam of light burst over my head to disintegrate it. Rushing with adrenaline, I set to run, but another falling tree caught me in the arm. I went into a tumble, trying to find anything to grab onto. Two tree branches slipped my grip before I managed to snag a mossy rock. Fiona was already running up to me. The scene felt all too familiar.

“STAY STILL!” she shouted. I wondered why and turned my head to find my body at the edge of a greenish cliff. I hurried to stand in a panic, but a rock gave way under my bare foot. I caught the edge in desperation. It was déjà vu. I wondered how it was possible that I was already here. Fiona ran up and reached her hand out to me just like I knew she would, but my attempts to hold on slipped her grip because of moss. A beam came down and trailed bursts into a path toward her.

“I love you, Fiona,” I said with a smile. “NOW RUN!” The beam was seconds away from her as I released my hand from the rock. I watched her jump after me to my horror. We met in the air, with nothing but gravity to measure the remainder of our lives.

“I love you, too, Finnelgamin,” she spoke into my ear over the rush of air. “Don’t think less of me for this. I couldn’t tell you.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Fiona,” I replied.

“We’re not going to die,” she said. Surely enough, our descent stopped, hovering within purple light coming out of Fiona’s fingertips in a blob. Fear beat my heart against my chest. Before I could do anything thanks to human survival impulse, she kissed my lips and took my consciousness away.

break

When I woke up, I was alone in the forest lying atop a large rock in some meadow. I tried to recall how I got there, but my mind was fuzzy. All that imprinted on my mind were some purple and orange lights.

“Fiona!” I called out into the wilderness. My mind took a step back. Who was Fiona? Why did I just shout her name? What was I doing in the forest? Everything felt strange, as if I’d forgotten something important. I had no phone, no way to contact civilization, but before I could think twice about how to get home, men in black uniforms descended from a helicopter around me.

After a short ride of absolute silence to my questions, I was moved into a room with a large mirror, too obviously meant for interrogations. They did not bind my hands, but locked the door, leaving me alone for a few hours. After this waiting period, a man wearing a lab coat stepped in with a bottle of water I desperately needed. I’d seen far too many TV shows to act aggressive in this sort of situation. I had no idea why I was there, or why they found me in the forest, but it was bound to come up. After what felt like a day of waiting, with only a urinal in the room, a man came in, dressed in plain clothing.

“Hello there,” he said. “You’re taking well to confinement.”

“Figured too many people panic and get aggressive in this type of situation,” I replied. “Could I get some food or at least more water?” The man across from me motioned a hand and a guard stepped in to put a bottle on the table.

“Do you know why you’re here?” the man asked after the door closed on the guard.

“To be honest,” I said, opening the bottle of water to take a gulp. “I don’t even know what I was doing out in the forest. I live in a big city. I can’t even remember the last time I even considered going camping or hiking. I don’t have a recollection of how I got there either.” The man nodded with a hateful smile.

“Yes, that’s what I expected,” he said. “Tricky beasts to hunt, since they eat your memories. Anyway, what I should say is ‘You were an unknowing subject in a military testing of a new weapon that subjugated the mind for a short period of time.’”

“Are you saying that?” I asked. The man felt too giddy. Was he self-medicating to deal with a stressful job?

“Sure,” he said, getting up, “That’s the official story and we’ll have you sign a form to confirm you understand. In a few moments, you’ll wake up in your bed with hazy memories of this event. But you know what? You’ll just think it was all some bizarre dream.”

“Far from eating memories though, eh?” I asked, throwing information he gave me back into his face. He smiled a bit warmer and even chuckled before a sudden fist connected to the side of my face to knock me out.

I woke up to an afternoon on a Saturday with a massive hangover. My first thought was Felix, a friend from work who loved to get wasted on Friday nights. He was notorious for inviting others to join and my recollection was too fuzzy-tired to question why I would ever do so again. Last time we went out, I woke up in bed with him and two girls. As much fun as it must have been, I could not recall a single detail from that night. Felix was a problem I already cut out of my life, yet here I was again, struggling to keep all my motions quiet for fear of loud noises.

In a few hours of sobering food, I was still feeling the effects on my poisoned liver. While walking into the bathroom, I found a black bra hanging on the towel rack. My mind jumped to a conclusion that I brought someone home last night, but after a thorough search of my apartment, there was nobody in it other than me. I sniffed the garment with hopes of remembering at least bits and pieces of the lost memories from a possible one-night-stand. It had a pleasant scent, but I could not place it. There was a sort-of purple shroud over the memory and it hurt to try breaking past it. I found no point in holding onto a stranger’s bra so it ended up in the bathroom bin.

“Felix, my man,” I said, calling him up. “How was your night?”

“Too loud,” he managed before he went silent. It was too early. I’d ask him about the girl later. Ever since my thing with Natalie ended, I’d been in a frenzy of one-night-stands, but nothing serious ever developed. I had no idea what I was searching for, but maybe I was just a few more girls away from that one encounter in the park that my dreams visited repeatedly. I still had hope that she would show up while I was in my prime.

alter

Wow. You deleted her, JJ. You erased Fiona from the world. What the hell? What kind of story is this? You give and you take away without a care in the world!

“The story’s not over, Finn,” he says. “You agreed to go along with this, so trust me. You’ll see her again and her strange brother.”

That’s why I don’t like being your marionette. It’s a great mystery until someone’s dead. Don’t force bravery onto your characters when you have none.

“Actually, that’s all I CAN do,” he says. “I’m no hero, and I lead no social life, so I want my characters to be different and my readers to aim for it just the same. Fear is natural, and what is bravery but a self-inflicted fear that acts on your morals, what you believe is the right thing to do.”

Practice what you preach to live a better life, JJ. Both of us know you’re uncomfortable and unhappy where you currently are. Be afraid. Be very afraid, and maybe that will give you a chance to reach that star you always gripe about, even if she’s no longer the gem you imagine her to be.

“It's hard to be ok with fear when your whole mind tries to destroy you from within,” he says. “I have no mental skeleton, Finn, no mental backbone. When I fear, there is nothing left to hold me up.”

What about beast? What about robot? They both exist to hold you up.

“To control me,” he replies. “beast fights inside to take over. The more I resist cravings of the human male, the more violent the outbursts. As for robot, he’s only there to be my last resort. As much as I trust him, his programmed mind cannot be my skeleton.”

You love to resist, don’t you? It’s easier to give up than to be afraid. The question I should be asking is: Why don’t you want to be happy? And don’t give me that crap that you are a monster on the inside and you don’t deserve it. There are people far worse than you in the world. None of them judge themselves this harshly. You’re just too aware of your negative self. You ignore the world, but on the inside you’re critical of what you are toward others.

“You sound like a therapist, Finnelgamin,” he says.

Didn’t you gripe recently that you need one but can’t afford it? Well, the insanity of my existence tends to mean that you’ve gone beyond what talking can fix.

“Let’s just get back to your story,” he says.

Running away like always.

“Would you rather I stop writing about you?” he asks. “There are other things I could be writing. Do you think anyone will want to hear these musings? I’d rather write of characters who don’t undermine the story, the ones who don’t question it at every step.”

This is a thought experiment that only your mad little mind could think up, and yet it could be that all writers have their own version of this, and it never ends up published until they either die or get committed. Whatever this is, I won’t let you stop until I’m dead and gone.

“You might die,” he says. “But you’ll never be gone.”



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