Dorian’s eyes were still blurry, but he continued to blink forcefully until he could see her clearly. And there she was, afloat in front of him. Shimmering.
He tried to spoke, but his lips were concrete stone.
She draw closer towards him, and with a soft touch of her palm over his cheek, the same shimmer began to project from Dorian too. Transferring supernatural energy. He began to un-stone.
It was like purging him clean from the depths of his addiction. The stone began to burn away to particles, like it were an outer skin within which Dorian had been cocooned inside. Along with the yellow spray painted that covered his skin, it turned the water around him yellow. It continued to purge him until Dorian was back to being himself.
His brows almost squashed together in dishearten as he slowly moved his hand towards Onya, but watched as she faded away with a smile.
When he was completely free from this power, he blew out from his mouth bubbles of yellow smoke like it were a supernatural infection that had engulfed him from within since her death. Now cleansing his inner self from the addiction.
He swam out for oxygen. The whole of yellow-ness was gone, even the red spray on his face had washed away too.
Dorian let his body float to the top, laying on his back. Eyes closed. He thought of her, when a smile finally declared his redemption. Onya had saved him. He thought of her words and let his body seal along with the tides, when she played her guitar, the sounds of which he could reminisce and hum. When she sang, she sounded so much like Agnes Obel, especially when she sang DORIAN.
We’re like ATOMS / tethered to form a DNA strand
And here we were / sharing minds sequences
We were hallucinogenic
Dorian thought of her. Again, and again. The only part of his body that hadn’t turned to stone were his eyes. The strange-looking eyes darted everywhere slowly. The glowing smoke emitted before was absent.
He hadn’t sank, but remained afloat even as he turned to stone, and still visible in the fluorescent. Just when Can, the delusional being, pot-smoker felt the urge of addiction had almost defeated Dorian, there came a whisper. It’s intimidating eyes were a bulge. Dorian heard it too. Darting his eyes everywhere as tears rushed and blended with the sea water, until it was undistinguishable. His heart felt an instant jolt of hope. His sight grew blurry, but the fireflies were shimmering far more potently than before. She called out to him.
“Open your eyes… And wake up…”
“Dorian, it’ll take the last breath out of you…”
Can began to project in front of Dorian, when it was about to divert him away from the whispers. But, Dorian had instantly blocked his mind, caused Can’s body to dissolve. Fade away like smoke. The urge of addiction was in fact dying now. Can’s frighteningly jarred eyes began to dissolve away.
The velocity of the vehicle was strong as it dove off the bridge, directly for the sea. Crashing against the sea surface. Plunge… slowly the vehicle continued to dove deeper into the heart of the dark sea, until it was visible in the fluorescent no more. The head lights still beaming all the way down. The florescence was infinite.
Dorian was afloat within the water, with his breath held. He mind was blank without any thoughts, he let the calm sensation of the water soothe his emotions.
“Losing her weren’t change the equation.” Can whispered, a voice that patiently concealed both intimidation and frustration.
“Dorian… You’re too late to change any of it.”
Dorian continued to ignore what Can’s words had to project, like he were meditating. His eyes continued to beam potently with yellow smoke, like a flare signal. Soon, he began to turn to stone, the whole of him. Not once could he feel this change, as his body converted to such form. He was stoned, literally.
Orange scintillating illuminance shone brightly in the sea, why wouldn’t it, Dorian had thrown jars of florescent fireflies into the sea. He’d stood staring at them sat over the edge of the bridge legs hanging down, smoking some weed. A long stretch of smoke clouds drifted from exhale. The red spray around his eyes had smeared down over his yellow painted section of his face. Blended with darker colour like it were a spread out bruise, from the tears.
He was at the exact location where she had plunged to her death off the same bridge, suffocated and drowned. Two weeks from now, the night she had been under the influence of the weed. Smoking the pot, sat over the edge when she felt her mind whirl and fell off. She drowned. And then was afloat onto the surface, after she was dead.
His eyes were now glowing yellow with smoky-like particles emitting. The urge of addiction began to grow over him. Can’s faint but distorted whispers were about to call out to him, but his firm thoughts of her were far to potent, Can couldn’t penetrate through his mind. Even with such extreme force.
Dorian sat into his vehicle, his fingers rested over the keys, and with a twist, the ignition switched on. He drove off.
He stood in front of the mirror, with the section over his eyes now sprayed in red with a spray can, the kind used to graffiti walls. The red which was like the size of a duct tape strip. Eyes closed. He’d felt so blind without her, Onya was her name. The feeling was extremely overwhelming. Morbidly melancholic.
He then stared at the red spray in the mirror. It enforced a potent sense of guilt. One he felt burning over his heart.
Tears grew to a brim, about to pour down his face. When they do, they would become stained in red from the spray strip around his eyes.
He sat drinking a bottle of Budweiser and watching TV, which he really wasn’t, whilst a black cat stared at him. A strange cat with yellow glowing eyes, sat beside the TV. Fixated with smoke like floating particles from its eyes. It made him think of the cannabis. But he wasn’t in the mood for any this time round.
He was drowned by her thoughts again like a binge-drunk alcoholic. A whirling sensation churned in his stomach. Life was so miserable without her.
“Feed the urge… Smoke the pot…”
His tearing eyes stared at the cat, as it spoke from its mind. Like telepathy. Can, you’re such a bastard. He threw the Budweiser directly at the cat, and watched as it warped into it and out from it, pass through with distortion. And broke as the alcohol sprayed the floor. Knowing it was a delusion. The cat threw a hostile stare and then stepped away from the TV, down onto the floor. Walked away.
Was interrupted by a deep laconic whisper from it. He opened his eyes and saw her hand absent but instead, there was a towering hairless figure stood behind him. Arching over his shoulder.
A pile of bright yellow bulk of mass with intimidating brood shoulders. Jelly bump of a belly. Bare-chested. The bastard pot-smoker. That’s what it was. Like it were generated by hallucinogenic paranoia. If you were smoking the pot, your mind was a psychedelia induced blender. Instead of a food grinding blender, your mind was stirring drug induced surreal delusions, metaphorically speaking.
Dorian threw a hostile stare towards what he dubbed, Y-pS, yellow pot smoker like it were a chemical equation, but he come to call it as, Can- short for Cannabis.
“Go f*** yourself!” Followed by a flip of the middle finger.
Can’s piercing eyes stared at Dorian and then it instantly grabbed hold of his neck and replied with such fearful menace.
“Do you want me to drill you?” Despite a strong, aggressive grip.
Dorian’s eyes grew listless, he didn’t care. He wasn’t frightened but only light-minded. Gently gestured with a roll forward of his chin and back, “go for it.” Dorian knew, or had come to believe that Can was a delusional being created from the depth of his pot smoking addiction. Just as the hallucinogenic fever began to ran dry, Can would began to warp and then fade away in a cloud of yellow smoke.
Just before Can faded away completely, his voice dissolved to a whisper. It’s yellow-gold eyes directed towards the drug pipe.
“I’m not drunk, just a little stoned.”
― Gerard Way
His dark eyes, those listless bloodshot eyes. They stared at the reflection in the mirror, drenched from the inside with grief. There was a man, stood bare chest. A glowing man. An usually glowing yellow man. His slender body spray painted like he were not a human but a statue. But he was alive, and ticking. How far could his addiction drive him? He inhaled and exhaled deeply and silently.
His brows and hair were a natural, inherited, dark brown colour, though. But why yellow? It reminded him of something, not so pleasant. He continued to stare, not once had he blinked. Glint of tears soon stood to a brim, at the thought of someone he so dearly had lost. His dry throat was a heavy lump. There was a curve of a scar on his left side of his face, outside of his eye. It was like the written letter, C-only inverted.
A few quick blinks and a warm trace of tear trickled out from the edge of his eye, down over his cheekbone, in a rhythm of hiccups. It turned to the colour of the spray paint, but also blended into a darker tinge.
His burning eyelids gently drew over his eyes, closed. Still breathing. His mind was like a writer’s block now, paralyzed by ongoing mental pressure. But he thought of her again. And again. Until he felt fingers crawl over his shoulder, softly. A forearm followed after. Her hand came to a stop, resting over one side of his breast.
Received first review of #TheManWithTheYellowSkin. But due to the depressing nature of the narrative, I wasn’t expecting a positive response. But am so glad, she loved it! TY kindly Anne (Friend on Twitter). 😊 Here is her response,
“As always, your tone of writing is perfect. You can feel the depression, the loneliness and the trouble of the character. I love it.
The way you related the tension building up from the character matches the effect of meth or coke. You try to get high, but it’s destructive.
I haven’t tried so I dont have a first hand experience. I love how eerily the first page sounds.
It really is depressing to the point you just wanted to jump with him, you know?”
Hello, everyone. I deeply apologise that I’ve not been able to blog or publish as much on my blog. But I truly appreciate your support and friendship always.
I will inform that I have been working with a few projects, mostly short fictions, and one far larger. And so, I introduce to you my latest series of micro-chapters to The Man With The Yellow Skin. Which will release on my blog from 06-13 December 2013. #debuts on my #Wordpress, as a #chain of 8 #micro chapters for 8 #days. Below you can read about what this new concept is to project. Hope you will like this.
Dorian had lost the love of his life, Onya two weeks ago.
She’d smoked some pot and plunged off the bridge on the night of her death. Overcome with hallucinogenic euphoria. She’d drowned.
Since then, Dorian’s urge of addiction has engulfed him, and there’s a delusional being that continues to influence him, to give into the urge.
The Man With The Yellow Skin is a spiritual sequel to the experimental Pot Smokers And The Powder Effects.