Into the Rain
After starting two big works of fiction, and losing interest with both, I decided to create one that involves my fursona, Plexxadon. It's not strongly sexual, and it's done in the style of a memoir. If anyone wants to see the characters, go to the VCL and look up the artist Plexadonn.
(6,798 words)
After I was born, I soon began to realize that I would come to dislike my own life. Though maybe not my own life, yet the way that I have been treated my whole life. The mere appearance of my own body would come to be repulsive, hated, feared, though even attractive, and I must say that none of these things have ever hurt me more than at this very moment.
I sit, now, amongst many beings of this nation, probably the only mutant that is open about his own life; the only mutant left alive. I am very sure that a few that can see me right now are keeping their thoughts to that of staying as far from this hideous thing as possible. Ah, and though a few are not bothered by me, if I were to greet them - approach them - friendly, like they do so for each other, I would cause such discomfort that many would leave immediately, walk away to merely get away from me.
It hurts me most now, for I am fully aware that I am eternally alone; everyone I've loved is gone, and everyone around me knows that I am soon to disappear as well. They are hoping it is soon, for they know of the slow, systematic eradication of my kind.
After I was created, I soon realized that I would be hated. Oh, for the love of the gods, I should have been either killed in the Chaos War or euthanized by the mass of human mercenaries set out to eradicate those of us who remained, no more of this waiting.
I sigh deeply and close my eyes with the memory. It is starting to rain, and I raise my eyes towards the grey sky. A lightning strike resonates through the air, and the brilliant flash startles those around me. I too am startled, and my pencil scribbles across the words, causing an unintended mark that I must now erase.
Everyone now is fleeing from the falling rain, removing themselves from the terrace, either taking or leaving their food, and entering the warm, dry lobby. I would stay, but the rain becomes too heavy, and my paper will be ruined in the wet weather. So inside I move, and see several beings quickly move to avoid my range of touch.
I sit and become comfortable on a loveseat, beside me are a human and his female mate. She complains that the slight exposure to rain has ruined her hair style, after she had spent so long on it too. My own hair does not look that 'good', I suppose.
It is a little too warm inside this place for my preference. I prefer the cold, North, where I lived with my two comrades so long ago. Mostly, standing here, are canines and humans. Of course, for that is normal for this city, in this particular nation.
"Here you are, sir." Speaks a voice so human, that it seems innocent. The waiter speaks to me of duty, not confrontation, he is just doing his job. Innocent, for he simply hands me my salad, bright green leaves and bright red tomatoes. At the mere sight of the glistening slime upon it, I begin to salivate.
Several around me are puzzled by the fact that I use a fork. What else though, my fingers? If I did so, I would just make a mess. Though I suppose their surprise comes from the fangs lining my gums. I am a carnivore, yet I refuse to touch that meat stuff prepared for eating. My fangs are now useless, and I have not needed to use them almost since the Chaos War.
I do not quite recall how many humans I have slaughtered, how many have fallen to my jaws, or the blades I once carried in my hands. Sometimes, I can still smell their blood. I can remember sitting in the rain, feeling the cold water wash away that thick red life as I began to realize what I was, what I had become, and my own insanity.
They all avoid me. No, it no longer bothers me that I am probably the last of the army, the last living soldier from that war, the last monster on the planet. They know I shall die someday. Why, none of them even know my name. Only Zigg, and that precious girl, Sheila, that was with us - almost to the end - knew my real name. Everyone else in the world calls me by what I am.
I am not sure what people are frightened by first. Maybe my antennae, the long twin tendrils jutting from my head that reach my feet. My four arms, and these that have been such an advantage in both murder and as a musician. Violence, oh, but those days are gone now, along with my companions, both Zigg and the girl are no longer with me.
That is it, no one knows my name. They just call me...
"Hey, Dreetle!" Screamed the shark.
I was startled from my writing, sitting behind a dimly lit lamp, scribbling in my journal. I peered upwards, my antennae smacking the bipedal shark's face. From my vantage, his face is covered with shadows, and even with him lowering his face to look at me, his black eyes remained invisible.
"What the hell're you doin'?" He continued, apparently surprised by my writing. Oh yes, I was supposed to be helping him set up our equipment. And here I was, scribbling whatever is on my mind. He must have been angry with me.
"Okay, sorry," I said, "See? This is why other bands have 'roadies'." I sneered, but I know he is completely against it.
"Fuck that, we're not helpless are we?"
He turned and began to walk away, heading through the door of my room. His own was just down the hall, and hers was past his. The apartment we lived in was bigger than we could afford, but the gig tomorrow should have been enough to get us on the road so we can haul in our money from the tour.
Now I stood to follow, but the thought of our impending disaster ran through my synapses. What if no one sponsors us? What if we cannot get any support or a bigger fanbase? Yes, we were the biggest rock group in the city, and many had ventured from adjacent towns only to see us for a few hours. This made me feel accomplished.
But that was not enough, and Zigg and Sheila knew this. It is not fame we wanted, nor even the money. Fame would be infamy, and it was acceptance we wanted. Though all our fame would get is tolerance, which is insufficient.
This thought plagued me all the way downstairs. And as I trod upon the descending stairs, I could hear whispers from above. Two females, their species indiscernible from here, but that did not matter. I could understand a few words of, 'there they go'. So from there, and even in the car, all the way to the auditorium, I was wondering what they could have been talking about.
Even till this day, so many years later, I wonder what it was. I am sure they spoke of me and Zigg, but what, exactly? Were they referring to our movements downward, outside-ward? Perhaps it does not matter, and most definitely it does not anymore. Yet it is that notion that has haunted us three for almost all our lives. What we were through the thoughts of others.
It was clear what certain individuals thought of me, in particular. Some people like to dismember insects, and I had happened to encounter such a deviant on this very stairwell. As Zigg and I moved past the open door, across the splintered wooden threshold, I could remember clearly being assaulted.
There were three male humans, dressed in rags, indicating their status in this urban city. One held a weapon, that I presumed to be a badly-made club, this was a stick, fat on one end. Their words were nothing I had not heard before, the typical ridicule and mockery or my species.
I killed two of them when they tried to pull out my antennae. I killed them both, but the man with the weapon escaped by jaws as soon as his first accomplice fell. Perhaps he was only frightened by the lightning blast that soon followed. As I watched him flee, and watched the other drop to sleep forever on, I felt the blood dripping from my tongue mix with rain. Up, into the sky, it was as if the Universe was trying to clean me.
Oh, I collapsed there and wept like I had never done so before. I sobbed so veraciously, it was painful. Yes, it was there that I learned of how my life would forever be. Now that I am not hunting humans, they hunt me.
The wheels of Zigg's car passed over that area and we were off. I did not observe his vehicular motions, but rolled down the window to feel the rushing wind on my face and across my antenna... that felt nice, like the falling rain, or still, warm water. I had recently shaved my head, the long mane of brown hair had been just another point of ridicule, some strange thing that made me look more weird. So I cut it off.
I remember Zigg and Sheila's reaction, they were both visual reactions. Neither said a word when I approached them, a great thick length of hair in my hand. Zigg shrugged his shoulder and continued to thump his bass, Sheila turned to retrieve a glass of wine for herself. I dropped my hair into the trashcan.
Zigg paid no attention to me as I nodded off on his door. He watched the road closely, keeping his large tapered head pointed straight ahead, his twin black eyes moving and darting to watch the traffic. I never liked watching him do that, the large white body of this shark so still, his eyes moving like that. It was that of a predator.
Yet Zigg, like me, had been a soldier, and I have no idea how many deaths he personally caused. Being so large in his muscles and height, he had been chosen by the very general of the particular squad to be his second in command. Zigg had such a complicated mind, always thinking in patterns, algorithms, that it was beneficial for his leadership. Then again, it was good for his songwriting.
I remember the first time I laid my eyes on Zigg. I can recall so clearly, to both my satisfaction and sadness, the solemnity on his face. Deciphering his visage was not easy, so I had to more carefully watch his posture and his vocal tone. Becoming his friend, and such a personal companion, had been very difficult. It seems that he had been more veraciously ridiculed in his life than I.
He was naked when I found him. Wading in the ocean, letting the surf tickle his legs and feet. I had been walking the beach that afternoon, so it was almost inevitable that I would run into him. No, we did not collide, but he, at first, was ready to shoo me away from him. But as our eyes met, we both realized what we were. I chittered, a sound that involuntarily expels from my mouth when I am happy or surprised. It sounds exactly as a cricket's chirp, though deeper. Zigg laughed and asked me to do it again.
Oh, how did I love them both. Though I really cannot choose, whose absence more depresses me now, Zigg's or Sheila's.
As soon as I exited the car and entered the large building, I heard her thunder rattling everything around her. Hearing her beating that percussion always brought me to smile. I liked how she used her mounted toms, throwing in those fills between snare trills and crashes. Every time, during that particular song of ours, after a few staccato riffs I plucked on my instrument, she rattled those fills and I absolutely loved it.
As Zigg strode past me, his legs longer than mine to allow faster walking movement, it was clear what he needed help with. I could see the tangle of cords and the stacks of cabinets and heads on the left of the stage, and knowing that I would have to arrange them as per his specifications made me groan. Then I saw the pink and silver swashes of Sheilas wings.
She was gorgeous, the absolutely most magnificent avian-like creature to ever grace the planet. Most called her a 'griffin', but I called her Shelia. She was the only one that ever called me by my name, and for some reason, Zigg liked to call me that horrible word 'dreetle'.
She saw Zigg's big white body bound up onto the platform and approach the mess he had made. I bound up as well, though my action was more graceful. Sheila immediately stopped what she's doing to approach and give me a loving hug.
"Hey, Plexy, I'm glad you're here so Zigg can shut the hell up now." She explained, expressing her desire for a break.
"Sheila!" Our shark demanded, "You wouldn't help me! You know how to do this!"
Neither of us really acknowledged what he had said, for we had heard it many times before. At this time, I had not seen Sheila in person for a few days, the girl having been away from the town to visit her savior.
Yes, that is what we call those who betrayed the stigma of antipathy on us soldiers. Saviors, those who forsook fear and hatred to simply help us left over. With the intoxication of chaotic mind-control gone from us all, we were left for the civilians to slaughter. To slaughter us like confused, bedazzled cattle. I was told that I almost died, by my own savior, now long dead.
Zigg's was dead long ago too. Sheila's remained, and her last visit saw the savior in death, so now we were alone, with only each other to love and care for.
I just wanted to relax for the rest of the day - not even give our set any more concern - with both Zigg and Sheila and have a good chat. I wanted to go out to the forest with them both, for I so loved to ensconce myself within the wooded terrain of the adjacent hills. The memory of so many times venturing into the hills to escape the noise and populace of the city is one of my favorites now.
Now, looking out the window into the falling rain, I am reminded of those misty woods. I can recall myself being situated near the edge of a lake, Sheila next to me, prone on her chest, nude, absorbing the sunlight's warmth, her wings outstretched, shimmering in the light. Zigg, splashing around in the water, did laps from one edge to the other. Occasionally, he would give me and Sheila a gush of the cold water.
Moments later, the two of us would dive in and wrestle with each other in the lake. Never once before nor ever again in my life did I know love and happiness than those few years with my two friends.
Then, all I wanted to do was revel in those memories, do that just once more, emotionally make love to both of them, to have that orgy of empathy and mutual enjoyment for one last time.
"Plex, roll your cabinet over there." Zigg instructed, and Sheila ran off to help him position the monitors. I really hated having my pleasant reminiscing interrupted. Though merely remembering these sublime instances, in the present, only makes me realize that I can never again feel that way. There is no way I can find the love or happiness that I had with Zigg and Sheila.
I am, however, glad that my life was not completely filled with disgrace and misery like I thought it would be.
I did not respond to Zigg, and obeyed him silently, jogging towards him to seize my cabinet. The shark could lift this heavy thing easily, above his head even, which is what he did with his own. Yes, I'm really impressed, Zigg, and his is heavier than mine. So I rolled it backwards and positioned it a few meters from Sheila's drum platform.
The ordeal lasted about an hour, for we three wanted to get everything done and as quickly as possible. Shelia finished setting the monitors and hooking them up to my stuff, then to Zigg's on the other side of the stage. The shark always finished first, and emphasized this fact by plugging in his bass and thumping the thunderous sound through us all.
I finished mine soon after, and I joined Zigg, throwing my guitar on and turning up the gain to thrash the distorted riffs through us all. Sheila, Oh I could melt at that smile, ran to her drums and began beating them like a crazy person.
So, we spent another hour jamming, just like I wanted, but what I really wanted was something more quiet and subdued. Do not begin to think I was weary of the band, of playing our souls into our music, but I did not feel like doing so at the moment, so I stopped playing and exited through the back towards the kitchen.
I always forget to turn off my equipment, and after the feedback rung loud enough to irritate them both, they too stopped playing and followed me. Sheila, approaching the fridge to look for her tea, asked me if I was getting another headache.
"No..." I said. I was leaning on the table, with my back to her, staring over a piece of burnt toast. I liked it burnt.
"Don't you fucking do that tomorrow." Zigg threatened.
"Why would I do that? Have I done it before?"
Oh, but Zigg did not understand. "You do it all the time!"
"Not during a show, stupidass!"
This made Sheila laugh, and she then told us both to shut up. I watched her trot past me, her pink, fuzzy, soft tail brushing past my legs. As she passed, I inhaled deeply to take in her scent. The natural perfume is all I needed in those days to relax me. Her pheromones nearly inebriated me at times, and during our states of serenity, I could lie beside her and Zigg and just sleep to that smell. To the sound of them both breathing.
I her followed her all the way to the back of the place. There, we had fashioned a living place from the abandoned rooms, and had made quite a comfortable lounge in one of the smaller ones. We had brought in a sofa and a large recliner, along with a table. Here, is where we wrote most of the material on our first album.
Ah and there it is, all the hundreds of sheets of scribbled tablatures and synthesizer scores. We are not going to write anything right now, but I ask Sheila to play the piano for me. It is a portable, but sounds very nice, and she tells me that she would rather hear me play. True, I am a pianist as much as a guitarist, and I can play better than both Zigg and Sheila.
Nevertheless, I enjoy hearing her play and sing. One song we recorded on the album, the last track, features her doing the piano and her vocals. I love it, and it is my favorite song of ours. Though each of us contributed a short, solo instrumental, I persuaded Sheila to add some words to hers. Every time I hear that song, my body shivers, and I get this excited yet warm feeling through my entire corpus.
Zigg drops to the sofa and lets his large body conform to the shape. On the table sits a bottle of vodka, and from this bottle he begins to sip. Sheila curls up on the chair and slouches with a groan. It is clear that she is not going to play. Well, I am not going to either, so that takes care of that idea.
I remember sitting there for only a few minutes before I got anxious. Yes, I used to enjoy being in that place with them two, but ever since our move to an apartment building, I have found it hard to take the nostalgia strongly, knowing that all our happiness would be curtailed. The happiest times of our mutual serenity were often played here, in this very room. This darkened chamber of miracles, where us three beings, ravished by outstanding ignominy, found love where all other places and folks seemed to utterly give us hatred and fear. A Miracle.
So we simply sat there, Zigg slowly getting drunk, and Sheila relaxed on her plush chair. I looked to each of them and could remember each time that I had fallen in love with them. I slowly lower myself to sit on the floor and lean against the table. For a few moments, it was as if all three looked to each other at once. Yet even with that impossibility, what sort of visual contact could more clearly tell the thoughts in our minds, the emotions in our spirits?
I did not need to look into Sheila's pale violet eyes to remember how she felt on that night... oh, it was so cold...
"Plex," she whispered into my ear. I could feel her breath push my hair, "what does our love mean?"
She and I were in her room, both lying prone on her bed. The mattress was stiff and was inadequate for me at the time - for I now sleep wherever I can, dirt ground or soft bed - but touching her hands, her soft fur and those feathers along her scalp, it was all so much that I cared nothing for the poor mattress.
"What's to say?" I wondered, for the question was obviously rhetorical, and she only wanted a reaction from me.
We were both tired, from playing a show that night, and I was preparing to leave for bed. Yet Sheila had coaxed me into her chamber to talk for a bit before we all fell asleep. Zigg was asleep already, having taken a large tranquilizer soon after we finished our set. He offered me one as well, but I had been drinking, and Sheila told me that it would have been too dangerous. I was very glad to join her, for my room was cold, and I took the chance, eagerly, to feel her warmth, even for a minute or so.
"Could you love me in every way possible?" She continued.
"I already do."
"No, not that I know. Do you love me physically?"
I could only smile and nuzzle her playfully, brushing my head against her shoulder, "Of course I do, Sheila, you are beautiful."
"You're attracted to me, but do you think you could love me physically and sensually?"
The question made me anxious, for I knew that the answer could affect her very strongly. If I confirmed it as a truth, then she would want me to show the love, if I declined it, she would follow with a catalogue of queries, further wondering what I wanted in my life for sensual love.
My silence was too long, but she knew I was thinking. She knew exactly what I was thinking.
"Could you love Zigg like that?"
Oh, and now I was being confronted. Sheila knew well about my strange affinity for the shark, and she knew that I would answer yes. Though I did not speak. We never formally discussed the matter, just somehow we had mutually come to understand that I loved Zigg more than a friend and wanted to show him that love.
So it was evident that she wanted to know if I felt that way about her.
"I love you, Sheila, just as much as I love Zigg." I said to her dissatisfaction. "But I can't love you anymore than that. What we would share... what you gave me back, is not what I want in a relationship." And right then, I knew I was doomed to be a mystery forever.
"What do you want then?" Oh! I knew so well it was coming! What could I say? I could make it simple as possible, or explain every minute detail.
"I don't want attachment," and how basically simple was that? "I want..."
Love was a word so moronically general, spewing it would only induce her to slap me silly. I did not want that, I wanted her to caress my face as she playfully did so often during the course of a day.
"I just want an understanding. No strong desire to know at all times that I'm loved. I want to be with my other simply knowing that they feel the same, and don't need to be told 'I love you', so often."
Sheila knew her own vices well. She clung to Zigg and I, always - desperately - begging for attention, a slight acknowledgment of our love. She knew we loved her, and could not explain why she always needed to be told.
"I just want to make both of you happy." She responded after a few moments of silence. Of course you did, Sheila.
I responded, "We are, you give us everything we could want in friendship. I and he do the same for you, right?"
"Yeah..."
Now, I could smell the girl even stronger now. But the increase in her aroma told me of her thinking, and foreshadowed her next action. Even before she leaned into me and gently coaxed me onto my back, I had a feeling that her contact would be awesome that night.
Sheila moved so softly I could barely feel her talons on my upper torso, the part of my body that was completely carapace. Then, as she leaned her face downward to nuzzle my own, I felt her long feathery mane graze my nose.
With my two upper arms, I entwined the griffin, to show her my acceptance of her motions. With one hand, she caressed my hard shell, and with another, she raked those talons through my hair.
Soon, after only a few moments of this cuddling affection, I could feel her desire to straddle me, her thigh nudging upwards and against my body. Bringing my arms closer, and so bringing her face closer, I gently kissed her bill.
Now, I should explain how the three of us 'kiss' each other. Unlike humans, none of us are endowed with lips. Even the other grown mammals such as the canines or felines have features that closely resemble this. Sheila was without it entirely, and could only suffice to nuzzle me or lick. Zigg, the poor boy, could lick as well, but with so many sharp teeth, neither of us two could take it seriously.
I, on the other hand, could manage well enough. So, I kissed her as best I could, directly on her bill, the sharp point poking my throat. Immediately, she moaned with what I can only assume was passion, and she crawled her way to straddle me. The action I took told her that I would take her, and she apparently so wanted me.
The sensation of her feathers and soft fur against my body as she undressed me was enough to arouse me. With my two lower arms, I gripped her muscular thighs, pushing down on them to show her I wanted everything she could give me. Sheila held my other hands in her own.
In the dim lighting, her pale violent eyes almost glowed fervently, as if the hue of her organs matched that heat emanating from her hips. My own shown blue, paler than hers. But oh, it does not matter. That night, I made love to her, I felt myself warm and lustful inside her and we brought each other to ecstatic climax several times in the course of two hours.
Now, as I look at Sheila, visibly older, emotionally colder, I feel the urge to weep. I know I cannot share with her that mutual love and affection ever again. I know, however, that it will be probably my most cherished memory. For I recalled it then, as we awaited our last performance, and now, as I nibble these greens.
I regret never feeling brave enough to act upon Zigg in such a fashion, as Sheila had done to me. Yes, most likely he would reject me, possibly be angry with it, but I would have at least known how deep his love for me would go.
I look at him now, he looks down to the floor, both hands on his large head, the bottle on the floor next to a foot. He has drunk so little of the stuff, I know that he is not inebriated. I really wonder, sometimes to frustration, what he was contemplating. I wonder if he was feeling as sad and hopeless as me. Perhaps the knowledge of our inevitable separation was haunting them all. I was certain that I was not the only one of us wrecked by these thoughts.
I remember sitting there, on the floor - now turned away from them, staring at the table - for at least an hour. I heard Sheila napping, Zigg resumed drinking, and I wanted as well to sleep. Eventually, Zigg left, all three of us hearing the audience entering the auditorium through the doors he opened. He would speak with our producer, with all the technicians, and would threaten their lives to ensure their tasks are done perfectly.
Sheila then stood and moved towards the door, lightly nudging me in the process, telling me to follow her. I do stand after a few moments of the most extremely painful anxiety I have ever felt. How could I now possibly perform my skill with such nightmarish thoughts plaguing me.
Not just me, oh no! All three of us know this is our last concert together.
It was established long ago, a ritual before each show, that the three of us congregate and express our love for each other. That is simple, and would consist of very little affection, or gushing emotion. Now, for our last concert, I cannot seem to find either of my companions.
I hear the screaming fans, the cheering. I can see movement in the dark hallway - technicians moving about with their jobs - and the light from out in the concert hall. I stand so close to those crowds, separated barely by a wall. In my world, I was forever barricaded by obstacles, and even with those that were close to me, I could feel and know those barricades so well.
There, in the darkness, I feel a shark place a hand on my shoulder. I turn and smile into the eyes of Zigg and give him a friendly thump on his chest.
"There you are!" I say, and he knows that I am so nervous, I can barely speak. Even during our first gig, I was not even a fraction feeling this anxious.
"Yeah, Sheila told me to come to you alone." He explained. I tilted my head and frowned, wondering why Sheila would as that.
"Whyzzat?" I asked nervously. Oh, the feel of his hand on me was very nice. He did not respond, and I averted my eyes for some reason I cannot define. We then shared a moment, a few seconds of understanding where I knew that Zigg loved me and he appreciated me in every way possible. No words were needed. He wanted to be with me, just us two, for the last time. We did not want our last time together to be sad, so I refused to allow myself to weep.
I reached my two upper arms towards him and gently held him, wanting so badly to embrace him with all my love and energy. Zigg did so himself, captivating me honorably with an embrace that meant so much to me at the time, that I can still feel him right now. His body was not warm like Sheila's, and was almost cold. Zigg's action was not sensual, but affectionate. He was showing me that my one-sided love was truly dual. Reciprocated.
"I love you, Plex." He whispered to me. I sighed happily and hugged him tighter. At the time, I could not remember the last time he had said such a thing. I knew it was true, all this time I knew Zigg loved me, but it was truly nice to hear it confirmed. Zigg, normally so distant, sarcastic and playful, was now sullen and honest enough to tear away my heart strings.
With my next action, I could feel his breath expel with a chuckle. I kissed him, right on the side of his head. I kissed him so softly and slowly, I wanted to feel his smooth hide with my muzzle. Then he pulled away and actually nuzzled my head with his own. I took his head in my grip and kissed the front of his face, my eyes covered in the shadows created by his body.
I did not care about his big mouth or scary teeth, I knew that when he licked me, it was only from his love, and not meant to be a joke. I found no humor in it, for my eyes were closed, and I returned his lick with my own. After that, I embraced him again, my head on his shoulder, my eyes falling onto Sheila who stood a meter away.
Seeing her surprised me, and seeing her smile - as much as she could do such a thing - made me so happy that I could feel her aura fuse with mine and Zigg's. I pulled away from Zigg and approached her to embrace the griffin. She laughed and returned it, but shouted in surprise as Zigg bounded towards us and squeezed us in his big, strong arms.
I could feel my shell compact me a bit as I was slightly crushed, and I growled with laughter. It did not hurt, but felt very strange. "Stop, Zigg! Don't squish him!" Sheila spoke, rapping Zigg's head.
The Shark stepped back and stood upright as much as he could, saying, "We're off, are we ready?"
"Let's do it." I said with a chuckle, my antennae flinging forward.
"I'm ready, and we better make this our best one yet!" Spoke the griffin. As Sheila followed me, I followed Zigg towards that light, the crack in the door shining to warn us. It was enlightening, telling us of our demise, telling us of our infinity. My eyes were tearing.
Zigg exited onto the stage and jogged up some short steps and let the hot stage light bathe him. The roar's eruption gave me chills, like it did every time. I so loved that. Next was my entrance, and the crowd gave me a welcome as well. I ran to the front to await the ritual.
For some time now, our fans had mutually created a bizarre welcoming gift for me. At once, I was showered with hundreds and hundreds of flying insects. Grasshoppers and crickets and assorted beetles collided into me and covered the stage. I was laughing so hard that I almost choked.
Sheila ran up and I looked back to see her grimace at my gift. Spreading her wings, she leapt into the air, several meters, engendering a wail of excitement from the audience. Landing behind her drums, she picked up the twin sticks and let ring a snare trill. Immediately, two crew member attacked the carpet of bugs with wide brooms, shuffling them into bags to be discarded into the forest outside.
Zigg armed himself with a bass guitar, and I followed with my own guitar. To my right was my keyboard setup, an electric piano on the bottom rack of the stack, and a synthesizer on the top.
Soon, we began to play, our instruments exploding our hard rock through the crowd to their utter, outstanding delight. The lights above flashed brilliant red and yellow colors onto the backdrop and floor, showering all in swathing psychedelia.
It was not much different than our other shows, and as we neared the end, my mind was devoid of sadness or regret. I could see Zigg and Sheila, the three of us bursting with love and empathy for each other, a trio working, exemplifying our craft masterfully for the folks at adored and respected us.
Yes, respect. For as a rock band, together, creating music, we were respected. As individuals, we were nothing but freaks and ex-soldiers for a ridiculous war. Gathered together, we created art and an image that allowed the world to escape reality and experience the wild side of their natural personas. This was our goal, and we achieved it.
Zigg and Sheila could see my face, I could see their own grins. It was so warm, but I knew we were happy, and our lives had not been a total disaster. I would die happy and with enough good memories to be happy as ethereal energy when I rejoined the planet in death.
I finish writing now. I put all my stuff away, my parchments, my utensils, my pictures. Before I tuck that last one back into my travel bag, I stare at it. Zigg, Sheila, me in the middle, right after that last concert. We are still smiling, and still the thought of erasure not in our minds. I smile and audibly chuckle as I put it away.
The next day, after our concert, Zigg disappeared. I knew it was the existential workings of our planet, dissolving the chaotic matter and energy of the land, in so returning my... our shark to the planet and universe. Sheila, I saw her a few times in the course of a year, until she vanished as well. No, not her destruction as Zigg, for she told me of her exit into such magnificent hiding that I would never see her again.
Well, I could not protest, for she was in line for release as well. I do not know if I enjoy the fact that she is still alive and I am never to be with her again. If she was to be returned to nature, I know that she would be in eternal serenity. No matter, for I will eventually die, as will she. And we will fuse as spirits in the universe.
I stand, fling my bag over my shoulder, pick up my guitar case, and move towards the waiter. I am to pay him personally.
I am still, to this day, awaiting my time. It has been eighteen years since Sheila's departure from my life, and I am hoping that one day I will be caught by the psionic prowess of the deity-like animals of the ocean and be ultimately dissolved. Eighteen years though? Why have they not discovered me? No matter, for when it comes, I will not fight.
"Here, sir." I say, handing the human male a few coins.
The next words from his mouth interrupt every thought in my mind and I am left to stand and stare stupidly.
"Thank you, Mister Plexadonn."
Eighteen years of silence from a world that does not know who I am. Here, I have been thrown into ignominy, infamy. Now, it seems I am a legend. This man has spoken my true name, this human that is a third my age. A being that should, for no reason, know who I am.
He smiles, nods and continues with his work. I grin, and I do not care if I look silly, and take me leave. I now know of that respect. Maybe in this age it is not respect, but now I have acknowledgment, tolerance. If my two loving companions were here, I know that they would feel so achieved inside, that death would have been much more welcome. For our goals in life would have been extremely fulfilled.
Then I walk out, downstairs, directly into the rain. Yet as soon as I step into the precipitation, it curtails and the clouds part to allow sunlight to bask the city in warm glory. Along the road, a few beings trot along, a few pass me, all smiling to me, friendly.
This world has now become strange to me. Strange, yet so calmly satisfying.