Deep Blue Howl

09-07-14_7-38 PM

Sometimes the darkness and I wander by my hopes and dreams, which are dangerously close to my regrets.

The darkness picked me up, after the apple.

It hisses, but I can’t make out the words. I say “What?” and it hisses again. I still can’t hear it.

I hear the howling, though. It’s muffled, like traffic on a highway out past the neighborhood, but I hear it. I think it’s coming from me. But I’m not sure. Maybe it’s coming from the freight containers. Maybe it’s my hopes and dreams, all dying a terrible death.

I stumble, and the darkness picks me up.

lalala just fixing this pic

Sometimes the darkness and I sit on a bench and listen to the howling of the abyss.

I bend over, my head between my legs. I’m cold and I’m sweating and everything is spinning and the howling in my ears goes loud and soft and loud and soft and loud and then soft again. I can’t take the spinning, I can’t, but I have to because it’s not stopping.

I feel finger bones on my back, and I can hear a quiet hissing when the howling goes soft. I can’t make out the words.

The spinning stops, finally.

The finger bones on my back go still, and I think I hear a word in the hiss. Something about “pass”.

Then I vomit.

It’s red, but it’s not the apple. It’s dark and it’s ropy and it looks a bit like coffee grounds.

It’s blood.

The darkness hisses again, and this time I hear the words.

It says, “This, too, shall pass.”

ooops I messed up the previous pic

Sometimes the darkness and I run our hands over the railings of a bridge. I wonder if maybe I will get a splinter.

The darkness says that I am still alive, but I am not so sure.

Everything is bright and sharp but also blurry when you don’t have enough blood. Colors are…so colorful. They pop into your eyeballs. Stay for a while. Have some tea.

But then they leave.

I fall down on the bridge.

The darkness picks me up, again. It says, “You can walk.”

But I can’t. I fall down again.

The darkness does not pick me up this time.

Out there, somewhere, over the bridge and the water and the popping green trees, I hear the howling.

I start to crawl.

I don't know why I started writing the narrator going through the ulcer

Sometimes the darkness and I crawl along the wooden slats of a blue sparkly bridge.

I think this is death.

The darkness says it’s not.

I say that the lights are very twinkly and blurry and big, and that I should go toward them.

The darkness says that if I go toward the lights I will fall in the river, and no one wants that. It says it will have to fish me out, and that its bones will get all wrinkly. It says, “I don’t like wrinkly bones.”

I wonder how bones can get wrinkly, but then I put it out of my mind. The sparkly lights of death seem more important at the moment.

The howling blows across the bridge.

I want to stop and curl up and let the howling sing me to sleep. I’m sweating and it’s cold and the bridge looks so long. I’ll never finish crossing it. It holds all the big blurry death lights of the universe.

I reach out towards the lights.

Something cold and hard grips my wrist.

The darkness hisses, “Damn it, I told you I didn’t want wrinkly bones.”

study of a bridge

Sometimes the darkness and I follow the twinkly death lights into oblivion.

I fall into the water, down and down and down, and I wonder if the darkness has wrinkly bones yet. I wonder if I will ever stop falling. Maybe the darkness will stop me again, its wrinkly bony fingers wrapping around my wrist

I can see the reflection of the twinkly lights down here. They go up and down, up and down, gently, softly. I like them. They are very calming.

Oblivion is not so bad, maybe.

I keep falling. The water gets darker. The lights get smaller.

No wrinkly finger bones ever come.

or how I can get a whole update out of one picture taking session

Sometimes the darkness and I fall through the water, down past the lights and into the depths.

But I don’t know. I think maybe the lights followed us.

I am floating in bright blueness.

I like it here. It’s nice. There are no dreams. No regrets. Just brightness and blue. I hear the howling still, but it’s so far away. Everything is far away.

I could go to sleep. I could sleep forever and ever. Just lying in the water, moving gently with it, the sparkly death lights sparkling above me.

Probably my bones would get wrinkly, but that’s okay.

That’s okay.

omg look it's green!

Sometimes the darkness and I wake up together on a bench.

It’s eerily silent.

The howling is gone.

There was a brightness and everything was blue and quiet and I was getting wrinkly and I was so sleepy.

But then I woke up.

I look over at the darkness, at its wrinkly wet gray bones. It stares out over the water. Its red eyes seem faded now.

I remember.

The darkness picked me up.

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12 Responses to Deep Blue Howl

  1. worsiedog says:

    Medley, I am not sure if you will remember me, I used to blog crinklewinkle legacy and freewillexperiments on wordpress. I have been away for a long while due to sims crashes, computer failures and life changing events, anyway, moving along.

    You were a saved blog in my crinklewinkle, which is now hidden, lol, cos my theme I had vanished into the abyss of nothingness… anyway, that aside

    I found you again, via PiB/Nicarra/Lynn, and readded you, my blogroll in my prehistoric blogs are not working at all.

    Look forward to your stories, have been engrossed with Lynn’s stories for the last few days.


    • medleymisty says:

      Hi! I do remember you! And Pibsims rocks! 🙂 She is my Tumblr friend and she is full of awesome.

      I’ve had a few false starts, trying to go back to Lilith and Seth and Sarah, but I don’t know. I seem to be sticking with Surreal Darkness though. I hope you like it!


  2. Echo Weaver says:

    This is strangely beautiful, that the darkness who claims to all that is bleak and unpleasant, can love the narrator. It makes me wonder if the narrator was right in their spiritual talk in Chapter 2.


  3. raerei says:

    Oooh. It kind of feels like the narrator is dying somewhere and all this is the kind of conversation/reality/time twistingness that occurs in the last moment of death. You know where time folds in on itself and the illusion of reality can be shown. Probably not, but this whole piece so far has had that dream-like quality where two minutes can feel like two hours.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Another great chapter! I love the pictures. Makes me want Sims 4. I liked the line about hopes and dreams dying a terrible death. I can totally picture this and metaphysically experience it. In fact, I felt the whole chapter. It felt very alive… ironically, since you were writing about death a lot. Vomit is the worst. I feel for the narrator. When you wrote about the splinter, I thought about my very first splinter and how I thought I was going to die. I remember my dad pulling it out and saying it was part of life and I would go on living. The “stay awhile and have some tea” part made me think about Alice in Wonderland, especially with all the swirling colors. I can see myself climbing on the bridge. The narrator seems very childlike here. My adult self though would be pretty terrified since I hate heights. I wonder how bones get wrinkled too. I liked the imagery of falling in the water. I can totally picture it in my mind. I almost drowned once and I had a sibling that almost drowned twice so I can picture the falling through the water very well. Strangely enough, I still love water and swimming and it doesn’t scare me. In fact, it’s very peaceful for me. I feel like this is how the narrator was experiencing it too – calmly, even in the face of certain death. I liked the overall blue colors and the howling. I’ve never thought of howling as comforting, but I do recall once when at my great uncle’s in the mountains hearing the coyotes howling and how the camaraderie of the howling was strangely soothing. I thought it was intriguing how the narrator woke up and it was almost as if the brightness was too much. The darkness was easier to process. The darkness was safe. And the darkness rescued the narrator. All the symbolism here is powerful. Sorry this is a very rambling comment and stream-of-consciousness.


    • medleymisty says:

      Oh wow, thank you so much! I am glad that you can picture it and experience it! 🙂

      I did too when the ulcer hemorrhaged – this pretty much all comes from that experience. I’ve vomited blood before. It….okay, so you might not want all the details. 😉

      i’m glad you didn’t die from the splinter. 😉 That made me remember a very bad one I got in my toe when I was little.

      That’s cool, about the Alice in Wonderland! I don’t think I was thinking about that when I wrote it.

      The bones that the darkness wears follow their own rules, I think.

      I’m glad that you still swim even after almost drowning.

      Yeah, when the ulcer hemorrhaged I wasn’t really scared. I mean, there was a few seconds of crushing panic right before I passed out the first time, but that wasn’t the normal anxiety panic. That was the “this is listed as one of the signs of stage three hypovolemic shock” anxiety panic, and then when I woke up after passing out and I vomited the blood it wasn’t there anymore, and on the ride to the ER I was just glad to be out of the house after so long, and I was looking around at everything and the colors were so bright, and things were also blurry and sharp at the same time.

      Then at the ER I couldn’t walk, and a nice man got me a wheelchair, and there was something wrong with one of the foot pedals so as we were going in the doors he asked me to lift my foot, so I did, and we went in, and there was a few seconds of being extremely cold and looking around the ER to remember it all to use it for my writing and wondering why it was so cold and why the check in desk was so high and why the hallway was so elongated, and then I passed out.

      Woke up on a bed, staring up at a ceiling light while people took off my clothes and got the IV going.

      I’ve been back in that ER since when my sister-in-law broke her foot, and it looks nothing like what I saw in those few seconds. My vision was really messed up.

      I think the howling can be both comforting and not comforting. I think it’s the sound of the abyss. So your perception of it would depend on how you felt about the abyss at that moment. 😉

      The darkness is where the narrator feels safe, yes. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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