Saturday, December 4, 2010

Another Excerpt from the Book

Okay, so here is another excerpt...

This is when I wake up the first morning after evacuation in Rhode descibes the state of my mind in those first few days after evacuating New Orleans...

Let me know what you think.

I woke up that morning in Rhode Island, not at first unlike many of the other mornings I had recently awoke. Still groggy from a plethora of pills, opening my eyes a little leery and unsure of my surroundings. Images always flashed back in my head during those first few moments after waking up. At least for the first few weeks. I always woke up, of where I was. Then, the barrage of images, sounds, memory flooding back onto me.
Water, rushing and rising. Water all around me, up to my chest. Wet and warm, with my clothes sticking to me. Wet shoes tracking water inside until everything has water seeping into its core. Water, bloating bodies and buffering boundaries between the wards. Water, black as an oil slick shining on the surface in the light of the moon.
Darkness. Stars bright, shining down on the city that was previously starless. The moon, shedding the only light when the sun had retired, sparkling its reflection on the slight lapping waves. The sound of the water, lapping the houses in the pitch black of the night. The darkness that still sinks down into the hearts of all those who witnessed those days.
Deserted streets, and utter chaos. Buildings churning with people and a rejection that spit them back out. My own deserted soul comes following me here to Rhode Island. And I am still left cold and unfeeling, as this barrage of images pushes me way past the limits of my sanity. I look the other way…I am distracted by all I have known these last ten years.
Sickness creeps in a little, only around the edges. Flashing images, and my heart rate is raised a little, pushing out the mundane madness of withdrawal…and all these fucking pills have to be holding me over a little. I remember the cooler…full of our looted prate’s booty of pharmaceuticals. I look over at Liam, sleeping with his arm draped over the chest. We are still on that back porch in our minds.
I flash back there momentarily. Scavengers, desperate for drugs and the mayhem around had made us all a little more aggressive and feisty. Liam and I slept with one hand on our drugs for so many days; I guess it had become habit. I know the minute Johnny fell asleep, we were in his stash…I am sure they did the same with us. In the world of a junky, a friend will steal from you quicker than a stranger might. The friend has the inside advantage…they know what you got, and where you got it.
In a circle of junky friends, there is always one or two that steal. I was never one of those. I always earned my dope money; even if I had to twist my morals to get the money…I never stole. Liam, on the other hand, was quite the thief. He did not think twice about stealing to get what he wanted, and I know he stole from me more time than I can count. I wonder if he would admit to it now…or if he would still deny it to the hilt, like always.
Liam, sleeping so peacefully in a comfortable bed. I looked down at him sleeping that morning with those adoring eyes I often had for him. I noticed the perfect shape of those lazy bedroom eyes, and that chiseled nose, with his long, shaggy hair falling over his eyes. His veins, strong and bold. Long and lean, his thin legs were still adorned with a little sculpted muscle. I remember looking at him with that look in my eye that morning, as I had so many other mornings but this morning felt different. Looking back onto that morning, I realize the only other person I have ever looked at that way is my son.

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