Murder Ballad
"The problem with insomnia", began the stranger, "is the boredom."
The rain fell against the window in sheets, rendering the outside world impenetrable. The muzak, beamed in from who knows where, was the piano jazz you'd expect in a bar more classy than this one. At the sound of the stranger's opining, the barman turned. It should be busier than this, he thought. To alleviate the boredom he would, he supposed, have to hear the stranger's story.
"Go on, stranger", said the barman. "Tell your tale."
The stranger lifted his head, finished his drink and proferred his glass for another. And his story began.
"Boredom, it is: your body is too exhausted to even lift you from the bed, yet your mind wants to continue wandering at will, wherever it goes, through every place you've ever been, every face you've ever seen. Pardon the rhyming cliche, but it's true. At 3am, your mind wanders off the beaten track and into strange new territory, where random images are juxtaposed and your dark fears come roaring from your subconscious.
"I'd been insomniac a while, and I was lonely. It had been months since Leah and I broke up, and I had determined to get her back, without success. She had moved out within days and I realised my mistake. I didn't know what to do, how I could persuade her that... that I was wrong.
"That night, as the digital clock read 2.32am, my mind turned to her once more. Leah Konchesky. A girl whose unblemished skin, her neat hair, completely disguised her self-hatred, her traumas, her mind. She was like a dormant volcano: beautiful and placid, but hiding a raging fire. She had issues, Leah, she had issues with men in her past. And I began thinking: what if I could go back and erase every mistake Leah had made? Everyone who had hurt her, everyone who'd fucked her up?
"I wondered if I could do it, if there was some way of vengeance for Leah Konchesky. I dragged myself out of bed, threw some random clothes on, and decided to go for a walk, to clear my head. I moved sluggishly along the streets until I stumbled upon a shop I'd not seen before, which sold samurai knives, guns, all the illegal crap. And it was open. I dunno if it was 24-hour or what. And I went in and bought everything I could think of.
"See, I'm an impulsive person", he continued, as the barman continued to fill his glass, "and once I find something to interest me, I become totally focused. I knew who my first target was going to be: the guy who fucked her the day after I split with her, the guy who then never called her again. I knew who he was, and how to find him. Coz that fucker used to be my best friend."
The barman pulled up a stool. Now this guy's story was getting interesting.
(more of this to follow, since it's longer than I'd thought)
The rain fell against the window in sheets, rendering the outside world impenetrable. The muzak, beamed in from who knows where, was the piano jazz you'd expect in a bar more classy than this one. At the sound of the stranger's opining, the barman turned. It should be busier than this, he thought. To alleviate the boredom he would, he supposed, have to hear the stranger's story.
"Go on, stranger", said the barman. "Tell your tale."
The stranger lifted his head, finished his drink and proferred his glass for another. And his story began.
"Boredom, it is: your body is too exhausted to even lift you from the bed, yet your mind wants to continue wandering at will, wherever it goes, through every place you've ever been, every face you've ever seen. Pardon the rhyming cliche, but it's true. At 3am, your mind wanders off the beaten track and into strange new territory, where random images are juxtaposed and your dark fears come roaring from your subconscious.
"I'd been insomniac a while, and I was lonely. It had been months since Leah and I broke up, and I had determined to get her back, without success. She had moved out within days and I realised my mistake. I didn't know what to do, how I could persuade her that... that I was wrong.
"That night, as the digital clock read 2.32am, my mind turned to her once more. Leah Konchesky. A girl whose unblemished skin, her neat hair, completely disguised her self-hatred, her traumas, her mind. She was like a dormant volcano: beautiful and placid, but hiding a raging fire. She had issues, Leah, she had issues with men in her past. And I began thinking: what if I could go back and erase every mistake Leah had made? Everyone who had hurt her, everyone who'd fucked her up?
"I wondered if I could do it, if there was some way of vengeance for Leah Konchesky. I dragged myself out of bed, threw some random clothes on, and decided to go for a walk, to clear my head. I moved sluggishly along the streets until I stumbled upon a shop I'd not seen before, which sold samurai knives, guns, all the illegal crap. And it was open. I dunno if it was 24-hour or what. And I went in and bought everything I could think of.
"See, I'm an impulsive person", he continued, as the barman continued to fill his glass, "and once I find something to interest me, I become totally focused. I knew who my first target was going to be: the guy who fucked her the day after I split with her, the guy who then never called her again. I knew who he was, and how to find him. Coz that fucker used to be my best friend."
The barman pulled up a stool. Now this guy's story was getting interesting.
(more of this to follow, since it's longer than I'd thought)