Thursday, April 7, 2011

The D Chronicles Vol 1 - (Men): Deadlight


The last place he wanted to end up was exactly where Wallace McQueen found himself on that Thursday morning. Bright and early at the brink of dawn the colors of morning descend from the deadlight and swim dangerously in the thick air above his head without escape. As the blazing inferno swept up the building all around him the only thing he could think of was the beginning of the previous day. Where the beginning meant the end and that was more painful than any burn his skin could endure.

There were many kinds of fires that happened. But most of the time it wasn’t a serious fire. It always started with silly little women. They were always starting fires and wanting to be rescued. That was the thing with these women not one of them understood the true meaning of emergency. Bon-Voyage-Boyfriend bonfires that got out of hand. Bring-Me-a-Man burning candles that were all the rage in the 2am infomercials. And lastly were those who forget about warming the hot wax in the microwave. Needless to say they always got what they wanted in the end.

Women wanted to be rescued.

Somewhere between pass the butter and hand me the bread she said it. “I’m leaving.” She said the words so completely nonchalant that he hadn’t noticed what it meant. She wasn’t informing him about leaving for work. Or leaving to the grocer’s. She was telling him that after six years she didn’t want to be there anymore. But it was completely without feeling when Margaret placed a kiss upon his lips before walking out of the house that morning. The taste of butter stays with Wallace all morning as he thinks about the tone of those two words.

Wallace McQueen was a man of action and take charge. He was exactly the man who might continue regardless of the emotional turmoil in his heart. When others found life too consuming to go on with Wallace managed to do so without much effort. He had always been a man of action and great discipline to his work. So without another thought or word to anyone about his breakfast with Margaret he continued his day.

Three household grease fires, a heart attack and a five car pile up had consumed his day and by nightfall it wasn’t the way the warm air felt against his face that changed his mind. At six o’clock the burning hellhole in front of him smelt of flesh and chicken dinner freshly burned to a crisp. The scent reminded Wallace of home and Margaret. The thought of what must come next set his mind wandering into the unknown that he’d never allowed himself to reach.

Silly came at seven o’clock. A woman living in an apartment above a bakery set fire to her drapes in hopes of catching herself a fireman for a husband when Engine no. 23 arrived to put out the blaze. It’s a shame but they told her if she had used the fire extinguisher she might have been able to save the drapes along with the skin on her left arm. Smiling with her best “I’m burned but wearing my MAC” face, the poor thing had to be rushed to the hospital for a skin graft. Tony Escarza went along for the ride and as luck would have it he’s single. Guess she got what she wanted in the end.

Some women want to be saved and others can’t seem to bite off their ankle quick enough to get away.

Wallace McQueen thought exactly that when he went home to a woman that wanted nothing of being saved and everything to do with leaving. It was ten o’clock at night and Margaret was still awake with her crossword puzzle. It seemed to matter to him very little that she waited up. Mostly as it wouldn’t matter much longer. What enjoyment could he find that now that she was going to leave him?

Rarely given little to fits of rage and contemptuous behavior Wallace couldn’t help himself when set into her. He asked her how could she and all she could say was how could she stay. It hadn’t been love for longer than was long enough. He seen to everything she’d wanted but that was never enough for Margaret.

And now possibly another man.

Wallace scrambled to understand why she’d done it. Why shouldn’t he be upset that there might be something or someone else that could satisfy this insatiable creature? Especially when he’d spent the last six years giving her every little thing that she wanted. Their tiny flat had seen renovation after renovation that came from his money. And Margaret wanted more. The very notion that Wallace couldn’t keep her satisfied was bright as could be that evening as it reminded him.

The colors of the full moon drift into their small kitchen area from the deadlight above the island. It wasn’t the wisest of her design choices, but Wallace went along with it to make her happy. It was an unnecessary skylight without any purpose or function. Never moving open to vent or cool. The kitchen was the last place you’d want a window that never opened.

But there it was. And there she was, Margaret standing across from him taking his accusations. Except instead of denial, she wanted more. When he asked what she wanted, she made no attempts to hold back.

More money.
More material.
More of a man she said and he couldn’t help but shiver with disgust.

Wallace knew without the right answers there would be no point in answering to her. And without much thought he walked away from her. Carefully thinking in his head that he knew what would need to be done.

The women always starting the fires never think what will happen if no one shows up to rescue them. Because someone always does. What if someone didn’t? Then where would all the silly women be with their harmless fires and first degree burns.

Wallace only wanted to scare her a little when he did it. It wasn’t supposed to go the way it did. After waiting for what seemed like hours she fell asleep and he did it. Carefully he lit the corner of the downstairs wallpaper and let the flame climb. You might say he had a plan when he did it but the way it ended up might seem contrary to that notion. Somewhere after the kitchen stove exploded Wallace knew there wasn’t a chance that “little” was even a word involved anymore.

Wallace figured that Margaret might grow a bit of compassion if she were in trouble. So many times he’d seen the silly little women that he rescued shaken by the experience grow a little in personality. They would develop a slight gratitude for their life from a few moment of panic. Once it was over and they’d been rescued there wasn’t anything that would make them stop thanking their saviors.

Then again some women might cut off your ankle to get away.

And that’s exactly what she did. Margaret saw an opportunity and seized it when the smoke rose from the lower level of the flat. Most importantly she saw the chance to be rid of Wallace McQueen once and for all.
Margaret never wanted to marry Wallace. In fact she’d dodged the question at every opportunity. Never committing more than she had to Margaret baited Wallace for the last six years until she found a better man. All along she led him on and on. The whole time planning to keep the house until it no longer became necessary.

When Wallace set fire to the flat Margaret saw her chance to leave and leave him good. There would be no way she’d stick around to watch him burn but one thing was for sure. She didn’t want him following her either. There was money involved in that man’s death and she wasn’t about to walk away empty handed.

Wallace stood at the base of the stairs in the kitchen as Margaret descended. He watched and wondered where her panic was when he realized that she didn’t care. Margaret hadn’t given a damn about him or their home. As the front hallway and staircase succumb to the flames she stood and stared at him without shaking her game face. There was no other way out when he stood and challenged her. And it wasn’t a shock when she made a cowardly beeline for the exterior door to escape. What surprised him was how quickly she locked it behind her when she left. Wallace hadn’t planned on facing the blaze from the inside out. Nonetheless he was.

Just like those silly little women and their silly little fires for a little bit of attention; Wallace sat there in the only room without escape looking up at the deadlight waiting for the sirens to come. The light from the deadlight was a reminder of his situation. The deadlight was just like Margaret, completely a fraud. A window that has no view and never opens is a lot like a woman that lives with you, never loves you and uses you up to the end. Somehow the sirens grew louder as they inched nearer and Wallace McQueen knew he was just like those silly women. And as the blaze crept up his arms to leave a searing reminder of his predicament he knew this was the last place he’d ever planned on being.

Deadlight. There’s no light shining in the windows yet and I’ve not quite lost the battle. Soon. There’s only one person to blame when you end up in situations that you do not plan… yourself. Sometimes no one will be there to rescue you. You got to learn to save yourself. It’s remarkable to come so far and find yourself face to face with the past. BUT... Some things you learn to go forward from by yourself, because sometimes there will be people that won’t let you forget where you’ve fallen. Thankfully there are and will continue to be people who will encourage you to get back up. Second chances are for people who want to do things differently, mistakes are meant to be learned from and apologies mean nothing if you continue to behave the same way. Spinning tables will make you dizzy if you look too closely. Careful, lovelies. Enjoy life, love and breathing. kisses. m.

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