The Abattoir Requiem (1)


February 23, 2013 by misterblank22

*Note to Reader: This is part of a novel I am writing and not like my usual entries. Don’t worry I have several game themed entries coming (I have a Metal Gear Rising review I plan to do next) but I just feel like posting this novel as it goes. I hope you enjoy it.



Nothing is constant and nothing can be fully separated, all things are a blur. With every blink you take the visual world is replaced by a dark shade which is a door to your mind, a place void of all reason. When our eyes are open our brain is distracted from itself by the things that flash before it in our lives. It’s when those images are taken away that the strange door to that voided world opens up; it blinds the visual with bizarre shadows.
But those are just blinks; they only allow small fragments of that void out, nothing substantial can come from it. Then sleep comes and those eyes close for hours and all bets are off. All reason is lost and reality (if it is a reality) is blurred. Everything acts like your reflection in water, it ripples and changes, you believe you are not changing with the water but what you see makes you second guess that belief.
Faceless figures form from shadows. They represent the embodiment of the mind; fear fuels this voided world because fear is one of the strongest human emotions. When one of those shadows crawled on all fours like a spider in my direction I knew the line of reason I held close to had been blurred. Only when this red-eyed shadow crawled for me my eyes were open with the real world in front of them not the black void. This event proved to me that nothing is constant not even the wall between the opened and closed eyes. It was not the first or the last time the wall was broken.



To make any kind of sense out of nonsense you have to understand what creates nonsense. Everything is spawned from something else and that something else is linked to an even bigger spawn point. What I experienced and what kept me up for an entire week in a failed attempt to avoid that voided world connected to sleep. The figures and attacks all fell under a term “Sleep Paralysis”. This phenomenon is connected to the brain and results from the actions it takes to put a person to sleep, once again a connection to a much bigger thing.
Sleep was a rarity for me at the time due to the paper-thin walls of the apartment building. Any noise the neighbor made echoed into my small apartment. Every nickel dropped to each chip they chewed, not to mention the habits of their promiscuous life, all flooded into my room. When I finally did drift off into a slumber it was dreamless.


After months of long nights and droopy eyes I resorted to the medicine cabinet. Pills are said to cure everything so I swallowed a blue capsule specifically designed to induce sleep with hopes it would make good on its promise. What I got was a long illusion that seemed to last the entire night, I felt it could have all been a dream. Walls turned to dust, hallways melted into mouths that spoke quickly but clear, the ceiling breathed and the shadows walked. Next door I could hear my neighbor entertaining one of her many lovers as my world turned upside-down. My body went numb as I laid in bed gasping for breath with the world in flux all around me.
I rose with the sun the next morning, it shined bright with energy while I set exhausted. I drug my feet across the room in the speed of a slug. The daily routine had become so natural to me that I rarely realized I was doing it, the morning shower and shave, brushing my teeth and forcing a decent breakfast. Then suddenly the mundane was shattered with three simple pieces of paper that laid across my desk. The handwriting that tattooed the sheets did not belong to me, the A’s curved too nicely while the W’s actually resembled W’s. I read over them quickly with hopes of finding an answer to their origins, but nothing came. Each piece of paper had only three sentences of obscure words written on them all in the same handwriting.

Page 1: The sheets were green when Alice bought them but now they have turned brown. Could I possibly replace them? I don’t want Alice to know.

Page 2: I went to the window just like you said but nothing was there. I don’t think you actually heard anything. Try to get some sleep you’re tired.

Page 3: I left the papers for him Alice. It’s his apartment so he’ll find them. You will won’t you?

The last line of the third page was directed at me and I knew it or at least it seemed like it was. After the events of the night before I felt anything was possible. But to keep myself from drowning in assumptions I decided to analyze the situation deeper. Could a friend of mine have left those papers behind and I simply passed over them the previous days? If so then why would they leave such strange notes on my desk, a place I spend most of my time? And who is Alice? I’ve never met an “Alice” apart from the one who had adventures in Wonderland. But at the time I considered reality to be unmovable and realty always made sense of things so I let it go with the idea that it would figure itself out.



3 thoughts on “The Abattoir Requiem (1)

  1. Wow! I know I read the 2 entries backwards, but it doesn’t matter. Great imagination! Keep going.

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