THE labyrinth

a man tells a story of how he became trapped in a vicious cycle

The Train’s Labyrinth

I remember how I got here into these much patted walls that entrap me. They have me reminiscing on the very day I blew my mind away. My insanity sank deeper and deeper that my thoughts began to overpower my senses. I always go back to that night, the night my mind took ahold of my every thought to where my heart had no choice for help. I became heartless, a prisoner in my very own home: my head.     

Still I found myself in the pit of a liquid labyrinth and un-controlling of my senses I felt quite vulnerable. All of the room slowly started shifting on me in and out, in and out and kept repeating. One moment blurring into the next as time passed by slowly, but yet fast. Side to side my eyes twittered un-controlling twitches as laughter started to emerge, but not a normal laugh�"no, a laugh that comes from deep inside; one of those toxic belly filled laughs. Sitting there I could hear my own breath under toned to the laughter, but the laughter commenced to become louder and louder. I looked around and my eyes felt nearly out of my head. I sank more and more into my chair as the people around became more like skyscrapers darkening my surrounding. I kept glancing around the room and their faces were slowly deteriorating from every sip as well as their eyes blackened from neglect. Their mouths suddenly seemed to grow larger than their face intended and every laugh had its cast of shadow attacking me one syllable at a time. All I could think about is how it was before I got myself here in this awful ditch of misery.

 She grabbed me and helped me get to the car as well as the bedroom and I was star struck in memory. Oh, there was a time that the joy in my wife’s eyes glared into mine like a diamond casted from the sun, but now a darker look casted over her that resembled the same feeling a person gets when looking at a foggy grave. We drove home and when we finally got there she laid me down on the bed. I couldn’t help to think how at first all of my so-called friends and family surrounded me more in honor like Arthur’s nights did for him at his mighty round table, but as time slipped away more and more it became to look like the wild jungle and hungry tigers were prowling for prey(me). How, why, did I get here? Could or would I ever find an answer or a way out of this hell hole?     

                Laying there I could only think how everyone seemed so different and how all the help I had soon became dismantled and out of my reach. I became drowned in my own indulgence that my caring was for my own and all that surrounded me were people alike. Yes, these people live on deception and dissipation; unfortunately I was not slightly any different. I accumulated a cold still heart that made me full of impulses, impulses that were not fighting the bottle and made it easier to get ahold of the liquid sorrow.  I firmly took step for my grand escape and in my vision it was something I could grasp, but unfortunately it was rope casted from Pluto himself.

                I walked the line and blamed everyone surrounding me, like I had no choice for my destruction. Am I mad though, how so, I’m not sure as to even try and justify myself. Under the secret potion of Dr. Jekyll I managed to slip away, but the only thing I could grasp in my thought was only a narrow path to my insanity. I drifted away into my sleep and grabbed hope on whatever I didn’t want to become.      

                I was at a young age again and I reminisced on how I was carried throughout life by a father with a drunkard history. Obviously my father’s ambitious lifestyle wasn’t too profitable, so we settled down in a shack outside of town to enjoy the poverty life by the cold railroad tracks. Not much could be done, but collect scraps of metal down the train tracks and sure enough moonshine to make money. Wasn’t a whole lot to do except when we went into town and my father would give me some money in order to keep me busy while he went on to drink his misery away at the bar.

                The dream lifted me away and took me yet again; away into reminisce back to one night when I tried to meet him at the bar in order to tell him that it was getting late. All my friends were inside eating, enjoying the warmth as I wondered the streets only thinking how a dip of snuff kept me from searching through other people’s property. I couldn’t wait any longer so I called for him as I finally stepped up to the bar quietly peaking my head I was hit by a cloud of smoke that hazed over across the whole place as well as the smell of cigarettes dipped in beer. “Pop, Pop!?�"Dad where are you?” I shouted in confusion.   

             I began walking through. Nobody really noticed or if anything cared as I slipped on by asking if they have seen my father. “Boy!” A man shouted from the side of the bar, so I quickly came over to his side blaring questions about my father.

                “Id seern ya fader, boy”, he said in a belligerent tone as I quickly became engaged to what he was saying even if I couldn’t make all of it out.

                I asked how he knew about my dad and he rambled on how there was a man in here earlier shouting out how he’d left his son at home and couldn’t stay after dark and if anyone would give him a lift a mile out of town. He went on how they drank together and how he gave him a ride almost wrecking, but managing somehow to make it back to the smoky, beer lighted bar. I asked which way they had gone to make sure he went home instead of my mother’s grave and he was rightly directed home. So, my journey towards the outskirts of town began my lonely whistling stroll of neglect.

                It was getting late and the sun was beginning to slowly disappear. The capture of clouds began to work together in ripples separated by rays of violet, red, and pink; it was beautiful, but my time was winding down. I was hurrying back as soon as possible because I knew the beauty of the sun was saying goodbye slowly disappearing for the dark shades of shadows. My speed was important and necessary. Time was winding down and time slowly started leaving me with the moon and stars guidance as the sun slowly declined. The thick woods started to swallow me whole; cracks and breaks sounded throughout the awaken forest. Much was headed to sleep, but it seemed to be that much was also headed to a busy night and right about that thought the sound of the thundering train echoed and drifted far into the sky.  

                Why did my dad leave me?  This was the most of what I could think about along with fear of darkness racing upon my mind. Even the terrors of the night scarred me for a second, but I knew these parts like the back of my hand that my nerves were dominantly calm. Listening to the crunch of pine and leaves as each step rushed through my ears almost like a dark pattern of music that constantly ran. The soles of my feet pounded to earth as sweat pounded from my face. The walk was long and dreadful, but it was necessary and it was what I had to do. I glanced again as the sun said its final goodbye.

                I finally made it home and my Father wasn’t even there to greet. The warm slow burning amber and the smell of pork beans filled the air showing that there had been someone present. I began to wonder the possibilities of where he could have gone being as drunk as he was; more drink, more food, more wood, was he dead? All kinds of thoughts ran through my head.

                I heard an awful groan from under my bed, a really ghastly groan that reminded me of a dying dog. I walked with ease and patients and my steps were chosen wisely as I slowly reached my destination and my body was at attention for anything. I looked hesitantly under my bed and there was the cast of my father’s rage in the shadows as he was trembling with cold sweats. My hands reached out for him and touched his greasy clothes; he seemed to be in a state of paranoia as his body jumped slightly in the air along with the bed screaming “Let me be evil spiders! Let me be!”

                I jumped back with surprise and looked at him with caution: what was he thinking? “AHHGGGR”, drunken with misery he moaned.

                “Ahh, f*****g government has everything, including my boy, always taking the big piece of the pie leaving us with crumbs, while we bake it, gather ingredients, and mix it all up working relentless hours under unbearable conditions. The frontline belongs to the people and the government sucks us dry to the bone making us mere dust or worthlessness. First giving yah deals of good such things den all hell breaks loose and as I depends on it they make me a slave to dem”, and right about his last words a train came rumbling through the tracks.

 He couldn’t stop screaming and shaking with anger. I had no idea what to do or how to handle the situation. All I knew was that the train had made it any better for his sanity.

                He ranted on why the government was on the verge to overpower the democracy (power of the people) and I thought, was he really mad in his perspective or was it too far? He shook violently while speaking and his eyes bolted out, blood red and scolding. My dad was a pretty heavy set fellow, almost like a miniature gorilla prowling about the house howling about how everyone has done him wrong ranting on with the feeling that all the trust in the world was decaying. Then he sat in exhaustion to his episode. He was breathing heavy and had a severe sweat attacking him. The heavy breaths out of his nose gave me chills, but even more was the way his eyes scolded into a daydream. As if his eyes themselves could produce evil terrors amongst others. Starring off as if he were staring into deaths eyes, but not in fear it, it was more in like a challenge. He seemed to have felt a quiver through his body as I noticed him shake abruptly like most people get when they say someone walks over ones grave.  He fell to the floor clumsily as he tried stepping forward and he was out. Laying there still for about five minutes I thought he might have been dead, so I worried setting there and shed some tears. Then he convoluted from all the intoxication breaking out in a heavy sweat. “Ahh! The evil demon snakes and spiders they’re everywhere.” He kept shouted violently as more and more the trembles began to overtake him.

 Along with the tremors there was a cry he kept waking as if someone invisible was literally killing him stabbing away at his body. Gargling with spit and vomit he only spoke with words that were from deep inside the stomach and throat.

                “Gaghhhh, Gaghhhh, Help! These evil things are after me!” He said struck with the sickness of hate upon me! “Get away!” He went on while slamming his fist upon the floor.

 I watched in astonishment, shocked of the way he was acting. He looked around in search for something to grab as if life depended on it. Crawling vigorously on his knees, he found a 12’ inch knife shouting, “I’ll show you, demons!” as he looked around the cabin.

I hid for my life because I knew he was looking for me in his wild search. As he was searching for me he shouted belligerently, “Come out, come out wherever you are?! I know you’re around here somewhere!” he kept shouting and the calls kept coming closer and closer.

His deep breaths casted alcohol in the air near the closet as I feared for my life trembling holding on to the clothes that were hanging. I heard a jerk at the door. I was still holding on for dear life and holding on to the clothes, but that was no luck. The door swung right open and I pounced back into the corner. “Well, well, well look what we have here!? He snarled at me violently.

I stared at him as if death had just found me and all he could do was smile ear to ear. “I can’t have your �"ism in my place Mr. and I’m terribly sorry, but with all due respect you perpetrated my rights and territory and I have the right to defend and bear”, he spit and mumbled and his eyes pierced my soul and I felt hopeless pinned in my closet.

He yanked me like a ragdoll nearly ripping my shirt off. I yelled for help vigorously hoping someone would hear, but we were long away from neighbors. “It’s me, dad! It’s me, dad!” I shouted numerous times, but with no positive response.

Thinking he might slip out of the delusion I continued to scream, but he continued to beat me with laughter and joy as he claimed to try by taking the “-ism” out of my body. I was getting beat to a pulp and the excruciating pain continued. Then the screaming of my so called father had stopped in mid- air as he pinned me to the floor of my home, sweet home. He stared at me as if he was born to kill and the smell of alcohol filled the air as he snarled in accomplishment of the capture. He sneered and it lingered across my very own along with spit drools. I was still in a confused daze from the beaten as I grabbed his shirt victim of his crime asking why he had done this, but he was still under the spell. He grabbed the knife that was lying above my head looking at it with a devilish demeanor as he chuckled. Right about the same time he lifts the knife ready to strike and as he came down he suddenly stopped; a break from his action. While he stopped he immediately dropped the knife while reaching for his chest and then other to my collar, “boy, I can’t breathe and I gotta pain in my chest”, gargling every word he continued effortless to stay pumping while his body continued to shake like it was asking for help.

 His whole body shuttered and his red blood shot eyes twittered uncontrollably as he glazed upon mine. He collapsed right on top of me after letting out a cry for help. No longer was he breathing like a gorilla and the cold feeling of death quickly filled the eerie silence of the room.

I managed to let myself loose from the heavy dead carcass I once called dad. I starred as he just lay there face first on the floor, I tried to crinkle out a word, but nothing came out only a quick murmur that was quickly covered by the dead silence. I came to the point of my dream, if I remember correctly, where I didn’t know how to handle the situation, or even how to feel? I thought of many different scenarios and if weren’t him than it would have been me. I felt ill to my stomach that I vomited only feeling more deranged because the feeling I felt was just as if I had lost no one important in my life and that was merely just a stranger. I cried in confusion and the only image that kept repeating through my head was the sight of death laughing at us battle almost making a mockery or game out of it trying to find their next victim.

I slipped away weeping through the night trying to find a place for comfort.  The image of my father attacked every inch of my mind and memory. I walked scared in the distance alongside the cold steel rails hopeless of what was next to come. The ramble of the train began to shake the earth and I looked around vigorously trying to find a spot to jump onto one of the carts in order to disappear. The sound began to crescendo as it ran its passage closer and closer. Louder and louder the tires screeched the cry of metal to metal as I sweat and ran towards an open cart. As the moment proceeded in my favor I jumped in desperation and held on tight to the nearest thing I could grab.     

I had made the jump, but I wasn’t alone. As I finally gained the energy to pick myself up I saw a silhouette holding an amber lighted cigar. “Well, how ya doing youngster!? Ya know it’s awfully dangerous out here alone… alone, alone, alone,” sounding just like my father. My dream began to melt with reality and fear entered my intoxicating mind. I gasped for air as if something had a hold of my neck and was trying to choke the life out of me. I gasped more violently as I reached for the twelve inch knife from under the bed and right about that time my wife came from behind and tried to alert me to consciousness and reality�"snap. 

There was a silence in the room I haven’t heard since the night of my father’s death. I stood shaking in sweat, confused of what had just happened. About the same time the train roared through town as I looked down nervously at my hands. My eyes anxiously flickered as I stared at my blood drenched hands.

That moment changed my life forever and lead me to vacant these narrow walls. I still manage to hear the sound of the midnight train cry in the distance.