Julian
01-31-2012, 05:14 PM
1. The Diary of Oedipus
The growling sneers of the raged nature hushed down the slamming front door and the clatter of nailed boots down the cobbles of the lane. Footsteps were drawing closer, closer as you read on. I skimmed the room quickly searching for my fuchsia shirt. It was dark, though. Like the darkness of the night, and like everything dark. It was so dark that anyone of you could sense that something bad was about to happen— something… well, dark.
My skin felt uncomfortable against the flaming warmth crawling out of her pores. I pulled my chest away, placing her head gently on the pillow. Shirtless, I tripped my way out of the room. “Stop right there, son.” The familiar man whispered, “Why are you up so late?” Dad was standing there waiting for my reply, using his I-know-you’re-crazed voice. Gracefully, the dim light coming from down stairs wasn’t enough for clear vision, or I could never possibly explain the reason of me standing at mom’s bedroom’s door bare chest with only underwear. “Umm… my mouth was dry from all the nightmares, daddy. I needed a cup of water.” I knew how to pull his soft side. “Oh dear, were Mr. Fuzzy’s eyes creeping you out again?” dad always felt so bad for not being around all the time, and he was completely convinced that I’m mentally unstable. And for the act to be more real, I sat on the ground rocking back and forward, and fake sobbing “He was staring at me right in the eyes, dad”. There is one thing I learned from drama club, tears always work, especially with dad. “I thought we are over this. Mrs. Brown said that you’re making a progress.” He talked to himself almost absentmindly. Mrs. Brown was the family doctor; she treated dad, and probably granddad. She was a cardiologist then. Now she’s a plummer during day light and a shrink when the sun comes down. Button of the line, psychiatrist to her is a doctor who forces you to sit down on a comfy sofa and gives you candies. “Try to have some sleep for now, Oedipus.” I stood up, already heading to my room. The door clicked shut behind as I came in and turned on the light. In the big mirror facing the room’s entrance, was a half naked eighteen years old blond, in superman shorts. His hair was all messed up, even hair jell couldn’t fix that chaos. I chuckled, remembering the professional play I presented. “And scene” I said proudly. Acting absurd all the time is quite exhausting, not that I didn’t enjoy it. Fooling dad and Mrs. Brown, but mainly dad, was pretty easy, though. I am way beyond conscious now, after I started using the magical cigarettes. Every time I feel even the tingle of uneasiness, or how I like to call it I-ate-a-bad-hotdog feeling, I smoke a cigarette. Then, poof it’s all gone, pleasure over whelms it.
I picked up the red note book lying at the far end of the desk, and supported my head to the wall resting my body on the bed. I started writing.
Dear diary,
Today was so productive. Mom made hummus today, and you know how hummus makes me horny. I fucked her so hard that she had to take her vitamins afterward. She made some falafel to go with it. Though, it's the problem. Falafel, with hummus, is even more sexually arousing, ‘cause it's like double the hummus with even more ingredients. It's why I started yelling at mom and generally acting crazy, and then, I found myself in bed with her. And let me say mom wow.
I remember our first time, my beloved; it was on the valentine -anniversary of all lovers-. It all started up when I held you in my arms –supporting you-. You were devastated back then, because dad, once again, failed you. “I will not come to dinner, Gabie. Don’t wait up.” such a jerk, he ditched you on your so called perfect night. I was the man dad could never be. I was there beside you, while he preferred to wonder around with someone else. Father wasn’t man enough to handle such a flawless woman like you. I couldn’t believe how heart-breaking beautiful you were that night. You looked goddess in your rouge short dress, which hugged every curve of your body –a real woman’s body-. The simple colors that decorated your eyes’ lids added femininity to the canvas. I offered you a dance, and I turned on your classics. My arms were wrapped around you like an ammo belt fixed on soldier’s waist. Your nose was real close to mine as we swung around the room. I inhaled the air saturated with your perfume, as it made drunk and unbalanced. My eyes were fixed on you cherry lips, for I craved their taste. I just couldn’t stop myself from leaning closer to you and kissing you, neglecting all distances. You seemed off limits and that’s exactly why I desperately wanted more of you. You showed no resistance – not even 0.1 Ω - as I kissed you again, and your eyelashes embraced mine. However, when I felt your hot tears wetting my cheeks, I knew that you were hurting. Idiot! Idiot! The freaking old man is such an idiot!
***
It took me like two hours to scatter my hair with jell decently. Then I wore a whole bottle of” Exe” perfume, and my good pair of jeans that matched the leather jacket. I glanced at the mirror admiring my reflection, and I looked totally like the 21st century’s Don Juan. In the corner of the mirror a female figure approached, and touched me from behind folding her arms around my waist, and nibbled my ear. “You smell nice, baby.” I turned around, and shoved her hands off. “Hey, Chelsie. What are you doing here?” I said awkwardly. She raised one eyebrow looking at me with her “own” I-know-you’re-crazed look. “I kind of live upstairs, and we go to school together. Umm… and yeah, I’m your girlfriend, duh.” I hated that blonde cheerleader’s bad timing; I had some sex plans with Gabie for today. “I know, I know. Sorry, Chels it’s just that-- By the way, do you by any chance have an extra condom in your purse?” of course, Gabie was a typical mom our sex should always be protected. Her face lit up with (mis)understanding, and we got back to awkward all over again “That’s what all this about, isn’t it? You’re so messed up because of this? What’s up with men and sex? It’s like it’s all what you think about in the tiny little dinosaur brain of yours. But again look at me; I’m like every boy’s dream. Who can blame you?” she said while she started unbuttoning her dress, “but you’re too cute to be turned down, though, baby”. I was going to explain the misunderstanding, but my hormones screamed a thing and my heart contradicted it harshly. Oh dear lord, she looked so tempting in those new blue panties. I couldn’t deny the fact that blonde has always been my type.
She slid her hands under my shirt, and that’s all what it took her to turn me on. I touched her hips, and kissed her hard. Stop! What are you doing? The damn conscious wouldn’t shut up. Not thinking about anything else but her butterfly was easy at first, but the nagging-like-hell conscious got worse when we lay on the bed. “I can’t…” I pushed her off, “Sorry, Chels. It’s just that I… can’t” I muttered. “Why? I’m your girlfriend, right?” she took in my reaction furiously, as I looked away ignoring her question. We both straightened up, both sitting on the bed. “I’m your girlfriend, right?” she repeated, “What? Is there someone else? That’s impossible. No one ever cheated on me, because I’m too sexy for that. I’m always the one whom guys cheat on their… girlfriends… with.” Wow, surprised how she managed to say that without any structure problems. Way to go blonde. “What? Are you gay? You prefer sex with dicks?” Jesus Christ! Good thing that I memorize the break up speech by heart. “It’s not you it’s me. I’m not good enough for you; you’re too sexy for me. Plus, I’m too messed up, but we can still be friends”. She had some freaking determined expression on her face, “I don’t need friends; I have all the friends I need. I want you, you as in my boyfriend.” She smiled smugly –which looked to me like some I’m-up-to-no-good smile-, “I’ll make you forget her. Give me a chance, and I’ll make you forget her.” She climbed over me again, and she held me down as she kissed my nick. The fact that I liked it aside, I was trying to pull out the guts to reject her, to shove her off, but all I did was kissing her back. I loved Gabie, but rejecting this goddamn blonde was like rejecting hummus; both impossible.
The door opened abruptly, “Honey, you’ll be late for—“Gabie gasped, and covered her mouth with both hands. “Hey, Mrs. G. We’re just messing around.” Chelsie blushed, and turned to winked at me. Tears glittered in Gabie’s stunning brown eyes, “Stop messing around you two, or you’ll be late for school.” Her harsh tone made my heart ache, and when the tears wintered the perfect face everything turned black. “Gabie!” I rushed toward the door and reached out for her, but Chelsie grabbed me with the elbow from behind. “I’m not done with you yet” she said playfully, and just then I snapped. “I’m a freaking gay! There! Would you just leave me alone now?” I didn’t stick around long enough to see her reaction, but I bet it was hummus worthy.
Gabie’s car was already turning the street’s corner when I came down. “Gabie” I whispered to myself, and felt guilty for the reckless things that’s I have done. I was no better than my old man, but much worse. She trusted her heart with me, and I fucked a blonde instead. I nervously searched for some cigarettes in my pocket, but I was out. The bad-hotdog feeling was too intense to bear, and I didn’t want to live on with it. Not a minute more.
***
I made up my mind, and suicide was the only solution for the guilt to end. However, choosing the best way of it was not quite easy. How do they manage to make it looks too simple in movies? I was obviously, not going to slit my wrist, and do it emo style. It was too cliché for me, plus, it would just cause unnecessary mess. I even considered throwing myself off the balcony, but I eliminated that option quickly because it spoils my prestige. And frankly, shattering my skull seemed too painful. Moreover, I didn’t want to deform my face for all the ladies –The shallow thinking continues even after I die-. I didn’t want to lay there in the coffin wearing my best suit, and I looked good in suits, with ugly face that would make whoever comes to the funeral says “Oh thank god that ugly freak died” or something like “one less ugly man in the world is a good thing”. And my crushed face is the image that would be printed in everyone’s mind as the last impression of me. At last, I settled for taking an over dose of sleeping pills, which sounded smooth and not so dramatic.
I locked the door, brushed my teeth, and lay down on the bed. I thought about leaving a suicide note, telling Gabie how I loved and meant her no harm, but it will just make things harder. I addition to that I didn’t want dad to suspect a thing.
I had taken four packs of sleeping pills from my dad’s bedside table. Instead of crushing them and mixing them with water, I decided to take them one by one, because there’s always a gap between intention and action, and I wanted to feel free to turn back halfway –it makes me feel manlier than death-. With each pill I swallow, however, I feel more determined. After 10 minutes the packs were empty. Since I didn’t know exactly how long it would take me to lose consciousness, I placed some porn magazines on the bed. I will have to use my last minutes wisely. And what’s more fun than this?
Soon after that, my stomach started to churn, and I felt the urge to vomit my inside out. The stabbing pain in my guts was growing harder, too severe to be ignored. And for the first time since I took the pills I was afraid, afraid that I might have taken the wrong decision. I might have not studied my options well. I felt terrified that this may hurt Gabie even more than dad had ever done. I knew there was no going back now, because with every minute passes my breaths seems countable. I rubbed my dormant eyes and looked around searching for some papers, but no papers were near. I cursed useless trees with frustration, and took the pen that was on the desk beside the bed. I raced death and wrote a cliché suicide note on a subscription card stapled among the pages of one of the magazines scattered in front of me. “I’m sorry, mother.” and I hoped those three words would tell it all.
2. Guilt
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear your question,” said the murdered man’s wife, Sophie, as she wiped her tears away. She patted her simple, black suit and straightened herself, as if preparing for the questions.
“I said, what was Ralph like when he was growing up?” repeated patiently her lawyer, an old man who was as ordinary looking and uninteresting as his personalized suit.
“Ralph has always had attention problems,” Sophie began, without looking at her son, “it began when he was very small. He’d cherish every second of attention I’d give to him as a baby, and he would always cry when I had to leave him for his father. We found it extremely cute at the time.” She smiled.
Ralph, sitting handcuffed next to his lawyer, looked quietly at the unrecognizable Sophie, revealing nothing. His defendant, Christina, a young lawyer on her mid twenties, laid a reassuring hand on his left thigh. She wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t dating his uncle, who had hated Sophie, but Ralph was thankful for her help. He had no money for a decent lawyer.
“When he was 8, his craving for my attention got worse,” Sophie said, smiling as if she had just remembered a particularly funny incident from the past. “There was this time, I argued with John in front of him. That was a big mistake. Ralph wouldn’t speak to his own father for weeks! He wouldn’t even let John pick him up from school, it was a real nuisance.”
Although the incident had happened many years ago, Ralph still remembered it quite clearly.
***
Ralph was playing with his toy cars in his room. The hero car, a transparent model was pursuing the villain, a red sports car, who had just kidnapped the hero’s girlfriend, when he heard something breaking loudly downstairs in the kitchen. He scurried to the stairs, hearing the voices grow louder and louder as he got closer.
“You’re screwing her, aren’t you?!” screamed his mother.
“I will not discuss this nonsense!” His father stormed away from the kitchen. Reaching the stairs, he spotted Ralph standing there, holding his toy cars. He stood there for a while, looking at his son, and then left Ralph’s vision, heading for the door.
Ralph found his mother crying in the kitchen.
“Mommy, are you ok?”
She looked at him, her eyes red, her makeup a mess. Although he was very young, Ralph would never forget her words, or the way she looked deep into his eyes as she said them.
“Your father has cheated on me. Promise me, Ralph. Promise me you will never cheat on your woman. Promise me.”
***
“What was the argument about?”
“Oh, it was nothing special. I don’t even remember what it was. Couples frequently argue over nothing, really,” said Sophie, smiling carefree.
“That bastard cheated on her, and she defends him,” muttered Ralph under his breath, audible only to Christina.
“What about school? Had Ralph ever revealed himself as an aggressive person in school?”
“Huh? I don’t think so. Well, once… he got in a fight during school. Children stuff, one of his classmates called me something bad during an argument they were having, and Ralph attacked him,” Sophie said, waving her right hand dismissively, “I remember the school’s shrink called us that night.”
“What did she say?”
“That he had a… complex of some sort. The doctor told me my son seemed to love me very much, but that it was normal at his age. Of course my son loves he, he’s my son! I didn’t need a shrink to help me figure that out.” Sophie gave a little laugh.
Ralph munched on the soft spot of his left hand between his thumb and his index, which was a habit he had. His eyes never left his mother’s figure, a look of contempt so strong in his eyes. He just felt so betrayed.
“Has Ralph ever had reasons to hate his father?” asked the lawyer.
Another memory from the past forced its way unwillingly to Ralph’s mind.
***
Ralph had just arrived home that night. He had found his mother crying in her room.
“Mother, are you alright?” Ralph asked, sitting down next to her.
“Yes… I’m fine, honey,” she said, trying to fake a laugh. Ralph noticed she was hiding her face.
“Mother, did he hit you?” Ralph asked, his voice croaked. As if answering his question, his mother pulled him close and hugged him, starting to cry again. They stayed like that for a long minute, Ralph feeling the pleasant warmth of his mother’s body, trying to understand what sort of a monster John had to be to do what he did.
“I promise you he will never touch you again,” Ralph whispered to her ears, almost passionately.
***
“Please answer the question, madam,” said the judge, speaking for the first time in a long while, “has Ralph ever had reasons to hate his father?”
“Not that I can remember,” said Sophie. She caught Ralph’s eyes for a split second, looked away and continued, “Ralph was always extremely competitive with his father, but he was never an aggressive kid. They were not the best of friends, admittedly, but John had never really given any reason for Ralph to dislike him. Except for him being my husband.”
“I have one last question, madam. Could you please tell us what happened on the fifth of May?”
***
On the day that Ralph ruined his life, he had gotten a phone call from his mother, asking him to come home. She sounded scared, so he went home as fast as he could.
Ralph pushed the door open to find his mother sitting on the living room carpet, clutching a long, bleeding cut on her right arm, crying hysterically.
“Mother, what happened?!” Ralph shouted, throwing his backpack to the ground and running to her aid. She turned towards him and he noticed she had a slight cut above her eye, where his father had probably hit her.
“You promised me he would never hit me again!” She screamed, out of herself. Her words shocked him, but he instantly realized what he had to do.
“Yes, I did. And he never will, mom. Not again.” Ralph headed towards the living room cupboard, where he had left his baseball bat, and picked it up.
His mother saw him picking up the weapon and said, weakly, “Do it, Ralph.”
Ralph’s resolve flickered for a while, realizing what he was about to do. Sophie noticed his weakness.
“Kill him, Ralph, kill him!” She shouted like a mad woman, “Your father was never half the man you are, and he will never be. He’s the only thing standing in the way of our happiness!”
Ralph tightened his grip on the baseball bat and headed towards the stairs.
He found his father in his parents’ bedroom. He was holding his cell-phone in one hand, whispering sadly on it as he looked at his leg, where a knife was stuck. His leg was bleeding profusely. He noticed Ralph coming in, but he didn’t notice the bat.
“Ralph? Ralph, you shouldn’t be here this early,” he began, as if that was of any relevance to what was happening, “you… go to a friend’s house. Y-yes, that’s best right now. Your mother, ah… your mother isn’t feeling very well right now and…” his voice trailed away as he noticed the bat.
“What are you doing, Ralph?” Ralph took one step closer.
“Ralph? Ralph no! You got it all wrong, Ralph! RALPH!”
***
Sophie unconsciously clutched her arm, where the knife cut had happened, before answering.
“Ralph came home that night and… and he found us arguing. He had a dangerous look in his eyes. I tried to tell him that it was nothing, tell him that couples argue all the time, but he wouldn’t listen. He was always so angry when John and I argued, but this time… this time it was different,” said Sophie, taking a deep breath. “Ralph told me he loved me, he told me that everything would be different from now on , that John would never argue with me again, and then he picked up his bat and he… he…” his mother began crying softly, burying her face in her hands.
“Madam, please continue your answer,” the Judge said, not unkindly.
“After… after doing what he did, he came down those stairs, soaked in John’s blood and… he tried to kiss me! “Sophie waved her arms dramatically in the air. “My own son, with his father’s blood on his clothes, tried to kiss me!”
His lawyer noticed his unrest and squeezed his right thigh again, she had warned him that Sophie’s words would be strong, and that he couldn’t react to any of it. Ralph wanted nothing more than to call out her lie right there, right then, but he nodded at Christina. He could still feel his lips warm where they had fleetingly touched his mother’s after it was over. And then she had turned against him.
“No further questions.” Sophie’s lawyer said.
The Judge turned towards Christina, asking her if she had any more questions towards Sophie. Christina had only one, and she didn’t bother standing up for it.
“Madam, do you know who called the police on that night?” Christina asked, without taking her eyes away from the papers in front of her.
“Huh? No…”
“No further questions.”
After Sophie went back to her place, Christina finally stood up. “Your honor, I would like to call in my last witness of this story,” she began.
Ralph got ready to stand up and take his place, when the court doors opened. Looking behind him, he saw a slim female figure walk elegantly inside the room, escorted by a guard, who guided her to the front.
“Jessica, would you please stand forward.” Christina said, smiling slightly at Ralph.
One look at his mother’s eyes was enough for the offense to know this would not go well for them.
“Objection, this woman has nothing to do with this incident!”
“Let me be the judge of that,” said the judge, with a long look at the offense, “objection denied.”
Ralph’s mother couldn’t stop glaring at Jessica as she took her place and swore the oath. Jessica was wearing common office clothes. Christina began her questioning right away.
“Madam, do you know this boy personally?”
“No.” Jessica answered, with a clear voice.
“Do you know his mother personally?”
“No.”
“Did you know the victim?”
“Yes.”
“What was your relationship with the victim?”
“We were good friends.” Ralph noticed Jessica was very confident. His mother wasn’t.
“You are a cow and a liar, that’s what you are!” Sophie screamed.
“And you would do well to stay in silence, please,” reprimanded the judge, instantly.
“Did John ever talk to you about his son?” Christina continued, as if nothing had happened.
“John loved Ralph, as any father would love his son. He talked a lot about him. He was deeply hurt over the fact that his son disliked him, but he knew that wasn’t his son’s fault. His mother was always throwing Ralph against him.” Jessica answered, looking directly at Ralph all the time. Ralph kept shifting his gaze between her and his mother, trying to process this new information.
“For how long had you been friends with John?”
“It’s been 10 years now.”
“How did you meet John?”
“I object. Is this even relevant?” complained Sophie’s lawyer.
“Objection denied,” replied the judge, lazily.
“We were assigned to work on the same project.” Jessica proceeded, once silence had been re-established.
“And how did his wife react to that?”
“She caught him e-mailing me about work once and they had a big argument about it. I remember his son stopped speaking to him for weeks after that. John was very hurt about it at the time.”
Ralph’s jaw dropped slightly. He stole a quick, questioning glance at his mother, but she seemed busy focusing at something on the table in front of her.
“Has John, to your knowing, ever hit his wife?” Christina’s questions seemed to have no end.
“That would be very unlikely. John loved his wife very much, you see. In his free time with me at the office, all he would do was talk about his wife and his son.”
Her eyes seemed to lock on Ralph’s, and they stayed that way for a long time. Jessica, feeling the pain in Ralph’s unbelieving eyes, unsure if she hated him or pitied him and Ralph, in exchange, seemed to question her intently with his gaze. This woman couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. She didn’t know his father as he did. Did I really know my father?
“After a while, you told me John stopped talking to you, could you tell us why?”
“His wife was always extremely jealous of John. After another fight between them, she attacked John, and threatened to attack me and any other woman he talked to.”
“And I will, you filthy bitch,” Sophie spat feverously, “this woman tried to steal my husband!”
“Silence!” the judge shouted, slamming his hammer twice on his desk. And then he turned towards Christina, “please continue.”
“I have one last question, Jessica. What happened on the fifth of May?” Christina asked, showing nervousness for the first time.
“Three days before the tragic accident,” Jessica began, still looking at Ralph. There was no hate in her eyes now, only pity, “my car was keyed. I was very flustered about it, and told John, but he told me not to call the cops.” She paused to gather her breath before continuing, “His wife had visited him at work on that day.” She looked pointedly at Ralph’s mother, who looked away.
“John called me on the fifth of May to tell me his wife had confessed to having keyed my car. He also said she attacked him for defending me, nailing his arms, and he had said he wanted a divorce out of rage. He was desperately asking me how he could tell her he was sorry, when I heard her come back to the room, he turned off his phone.”
“But that’s not the last time you heard from John, was it?”
“No. He called me back again about thirty minutes later. He told me his wife had gone crazy, that she had threatened to kill them both, tried to stab him, and had cut herself with a knife. He did not tell me she had stabbed his leg with the knife, I believe he was defending her even then.”
“No! He attacked my mom…” Ralph began, almost pleadingly, but he didn’t sound very convinced of it. The judge paid him no notice, and Jessica proceeded.
“I heard the door crashing open, and John stopped talking to me. I heard him saying Ralph’s name, puzzled at first, and then almost begging. I heard John as he… as he screamed, many times.” A solitary tear made its way free from her eyes, and slowly slithered down her right cheek. Ralph noticed he was crying too.
3. O.E.D.I.P.U.S
Extract from manuscript of Proffessor Dufre’s Lecture on Prisoner //.15-5-4-9-16-21-19
DUFRE: ’Prisoner //.15-5-4-9-16-21-19’ is what we call a Special Case. Despite continuing and various treatments that we have subscribed for him, he still exhibits certain symptoms originally diagnosed. I may even go so far as to suggest that this will make us completely question our ideas on the human mentality to our sexual behaviour. Let’s examine his reaction to a simulation of the crime.’
//.audioplay
It’s dark so dark but there’s light on the screen look at the screen you remember this, don’t you ####? Surely you do it’s why we’re in this place in the first place this scene oh god I’m so sorry will you let me out now please stop it what ever you’re doing I can’t look away from it what are you doing I’m sorry how many times do I have to say it? Buttons? What buttons? I can... change it? Change it from what happened? Then can I go? All right then... No, don’t enter the house. Why isn’t it doing what I say? Buttons? What buttons? There are no buttons. No, please don’t do that #### please don’t otherwise you’ll be stuck here as well don’t get stuck here it’s dark you don’t like the dark. No #### please don’t oh god please god stop him stop it #### for your sake stop it stop it please god STOP IT DON’T PLEASE DON’T GO TO HER DON’T DON’T
//.audioend
DUFRE: ’As you can see, the reliving of the crime clearly terrified him. However, that’s not what happened. In fact, he was excited by the scene. Oh yes, at his concious level he wants to repent, but when you measure mental activity, he wants to relive the crime. He still feels subconscious sexual excitement at the prospect of repeating it. Now, this is to be expected. Any criminal never truly wants forgiven for his crime because they believe they are right in what they do and our subject is no exception. But what’s really interesting is other Subject's reaction to the video, even those removed from the form of crime committed. Every single one of the Subjects experienced the same subconscious desires as Prisoner //.15-5-4-9-16-21-19. But why?’
//.videoplay
A typical American kitchen. Two girls, twins, eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at a table. A woman, 50-60, stands doing the washing up humming a pop song. The door opens and in steps a man, 25-30. The woman turns to greet the man. The man smiles and beckons the woman out of the kitchen. The two girls ignore the man and continue eating. The video skips forward 16 minutes. The girls have finished their sandwiches and the man and woman have not returned. They leave the room.
//.videoend
DUFRE: ’Here we see the Subject and his... victims. The crime he committed was despicable and he is most assuredly guilty. But the other Subjects, they had no knowledge of the crime and therefore we must believe that what we have measured as sexual excitement is of a deeper layer, the subconscious. For example, Prisoner //.3-18-5-15-14 expressed disgust on his, for want of a better word, concious level. However, at the so called subconscious level, he experienced a degree of sexual excitement, albeit one lower than Prisoner //.15-5-4-9-16-21-19.’
QUESTION: ’Professor, while this is very interesting I must ask one thing. The Subjects that you use are all male. Therefore, can we assume that is is a strictly male experience?’
DUFRE: ’Excellent question. And that answer is simply, no. In fact, we have managed to procure some, ahem, Subject 1.2’s as we call them. They are the moral equivalent of the Subjects, but are all female. And having ran O.E.D.I.P.U.S through them, it is quite clear that the results are essentially the same.’
QUESTION: ’Essentially?’
//.videoplay
Shows a woman, 20-22, sitting a sterilised cell. She is hooked up to various wires that connect to a laptop. The laptop is running code across its screen.
Woman: Oh god no don’t do it you bastard no don’t do it I’ll kill you stop it stop it you vile bastard-
//.audioend
Shows the woman convulsing in her seat, reaches up to pull the wires out and stops. Sighs in pleasure and stops.
//.videoend
DUFRE: ’This is Subject 1.2.6. As she began to fight against O.E.D.I.P.U.S, we ran program //.Placebo. While she believed she was being relieved of the program, we were actually brining forward the subconscious level. You see, this was a slightly varied form of O.E.D.I.P.U.S that we call E.L.E.K.T.R.A. In this variant we placed Subject 1.2.6 into the mother’s body. And that’s the ingenious part. You see, we had relieved her of the concious disgust of being violated and opened it to the subconscious pleasure of having sex with her son. And that’s why we say it is essentially the same. In conclusion, human males have a subconscious desire to sleep with their mother, and woman have a similar desire to sleep with their sons.’
+
/Command
/Opening program...
/Program loaded and booted
ThebanCorp [R] ErotiPlanet DOS
Copyright ThebanCorp 2012 –2026
Welcome to ThebanCorp Program Command
Please enter program name to boot: O.E.D.I.P.U.S O.V.E.R.D.R.I.V.E
+
STATE OF EMERGENCY – STAY INDOORS AT ALL TIMES
Good evening, this is Nausika Gone with the news. Over the past week there have been increased reports of rape and murder across all Zones. The police have not yet issued an official statement on what is causing this phenomenon, but there is a theory that hackers have infiltrated the main databases and reprogrammed certain civilians. The police have asked that you remain indoors at all times and let no one enter the premises, even if you know them. If you notice anyone acting in a strange manner, we ask you to report to the police as soon as possible.
In other news, the Ashes have came to a close...
+
Extract of recording in War Room 4
Major M: How the hell have they done this? They’ve managed to override the entire system, including the emergency lock down programs!
General H: We don’t know yet Major. Dr. Creon is working on it as we speak, and he hopes to track them even if he cannot regain control just now. We’ve issued a state of emergency –
Major M: No no no, this is what they want! They bloody wanted us to be running scared, issuing policies and notices, telling the public not to worry, they might just get raped by their own family. We should have just lain low, let them get worried and trip up.
General H: And what then Major? Just let the public panic? Let them think we’re not doing anything about it while they’re getting raped? Do you want a repeat of the riots last year, when we did exactly as you said? This time we’re doing it my way Major and I refuse to give into your bullying.
Major M: Fine. If you don’t need my help, then you can all just go to hell on your own. Get me a flight to Zone 8 ready for take-off in ten, Private.
Private S: Yes sir.
+
Page From A Modern History Book
The O.E.D.I.P.U.S Rape of 2026 heralded the end of the ThebanCorp Era on New Earth. Billions died as families tore themselves apart in sexual fury and the Government brought in the Emergency Laws. The ThebanCorp System that had become the epitome of the Government was destroyed in an attempt to bring order onto the streets again, in the hope that the virus that had infected it and the minds of the public would be wiped out without any damage to the remaining citizens who were still hooked up to the System but had not succumbed to the violence. This was not to be.
All those who were connected to the System went into comas for the remainder of their lives. Approximately 91 percent of New Earth’s population were wiped out after this. No envoys from other colonies came to New Earth after this as all co-ordinates for New Earth were wiped from ThebanCorp when the System was destroyed. The Government fell in the series of revolts that followed in the years 2027-2028. On 11th of November 2028, the Social Democratic Party For The People (SDPP) was formed. They began work to rebuild New Earth after the various riots the last two years had brought. They refused to install or reboot the System that had brought the planet to its knees only years before.
4. The Siren’s Song
It was 1887 when I first heard the siren’s song.
Someplace far off, out of sight. Her voice carried like it was the wind itself. Smooth, sensuous, serene. At first I thought I was imagining it, that it was all in my head. Some delusional fascination that was playing tricks on myself. You tend to see things when you’re on a ship for so long.
People floating in the water, a light that shouldn’t be there. Usually, you can chalk it up to sea sickness or not getting enough sleep.
But not this time.
I know what I heard.
I’m not a fancy writer or a college educated man like some of the other people onboard. Hell, I’m just a rancher trying to sell off my cattle to the highest bidder in town, but let me tell you, this woman’s voice was the most beautiful sound I have ever had the pleasure of hearing.
It did something to me that no other music had ever done before. Sure, the piano players at the bars in Redville were good, but not like this. This was something else.
It stirred inside me like a snake in an egg. My skin tingled and sent waves of sensation all throughout my body. It was like the final moments of laying with a woman, the rush of euphoria and ecstasy that overtakes you as your bodies join and passion ensues.
It calmed my nerves and like a good cigar or a shot of whiskey, gave me a bit of peace and quiet.
I looked all around in the foggy night for her ship or a piece of land that she may have been standing on, but much to my dismay, I found nothing.
Everyone else was asleep in the lower levels of the ship, dreaming of land and gold and riches but not me. I dreamed only of the woman.
Of her voice.
Of her singing.
I thought about waking somebody up. Thought about it and then thought against it. What if I really was imagining it? What would the others say if I woke them and they found nothing to support my claims? It wouldn’t be good, that much was for sure.
I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands and looked out at the water again. Just as quickly as it had began, the singing stopped and the night was filled with an eerie silence.
No!
Why had she stopped? Did something happen to her? Did a creature of the sea descend upon her and devour her in the middle of her song? Maybe it was her lover. Perhaps he heard her singing and took her right where she sang.
I imagined it in my head.
Her smooth, naked body. His strong, rough hands caressing her breasts. Her lips parted, his manhood erect.
I suddenly felt a rush of anger.
Or was it jealousy?
I gripped the railing of the ship and bit down hard as I tried to expunge the thought from my head.
She’s not real. Stop it.
I wanted to believe that. I really did. My brain told myself to go inside and lie down. To get some sleep.
My body denied it.
I stayed out on the deck of the ship for a good while longer, waiting, hoping for the song to continue.
It was nearly sun up when I finally went to bed.
***
I spent most of the day in the lower decks, trying to remember the woman’s voice. When I awoke in the afternoon, I found that I only had the foggiest of memory as to how the wonderful song had gone. I seemed to have forgotton the way the woman sounded as she sang in the night.
Was it a dream? I hardly remembered those when I awoke from a slumber. Perhaps it truly was all in my head.
Suddenly, I remembered the image of the woman and her lover. Of his hands all over her body. Of her erect nipples and her parted mouth.
Was that part of the dream?
“You there. Rancher!”
I looked up at the doorway to the cabin and saw one of the sailors.
“Yes?” I replied, unsure of what he possibly could have wanted.
“I saw you last night on the deck.”
There was something in his tone that made the statement very threatening. I couldn’t quite place what it was, but the sense of foreboding violence was clearly in the air.
“Is that a problem?” I asked.
“What were you doing up so late?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I lied.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. I glanced to my left and saw my Colt holstered on my gun belt.
Shit.
“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” He said it as if he was chewing the words in his mouth and he didn’t like the taste.
“That’s right,” I said. “I don’t like it much on the water.”
“No. I don’t suppose you do. What with you being a cowpoke and all.”
We both stared at each other. He wasn’t wearing a gun but his size was more of weapon than he ever could have needed.
I stayed where I was. Sitting on my cot while he crossed his arms and nodded his massive bald head.
“Might want to be careful out there,” he said. “Man falls overboard that time of night, ain’t likely anybody’s gonna hear him scream for help.”
It may not have been a threat, but it sure as hell sounded like one.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” I said, giving him a nod.
“Yeah. You do that.”
Then he walked away.
***
When everyone retired to their cabins, I went topside and stood on the deck.
The night wasn’t all that different from the night before and I knew I would hear the woman’s song once again. It was a gut feeling that I couldn’t shake. A confidence that came from somewhere deep inside.
I had to hear it again. I just had to!
Looking over my shoulder, I made sure that the big sailor from earlier in the day wasn’t watching me. I wandered around the ship, acting as innocent as I possibly could as I looked for him. When I was confident that he was nowhere on deck with me, I returned to the spot where I heard the song the night before.
The water was choppy this evening. The smells of the sea were stronger than usual. I breathed in the salty air and looked up at the sapphire tinted sky. The stars stared down at me and seemed to be silently reassuring me that I would find what I was looking for.
The woman.
I heard her voice a moment later. Silky and smooth as it had been the night before. I looked out at the sea and tried to pinpoint where it was coming from.
The voice grew stronger with each passing second. Was the ship getting closer?
I felt my heart beating faster, for what purpose I do not know. Other than the impending visual of the beautiful songstress of course.
I leaned over the railing, a light shining a few yards below the water caught my attention. The fog was thick, visibility was poor but I was sure I saw a light.
The smooth singing grew louder and louder the closer I came to the water, almost as if it came from the sea itself.
I wanted to lower myself into the inky blackness below but my brain would not allow me.
Stop! You’ll die!
But I did not care. I had to get closer. I had to!
She was so close, but so far out of reach.
I closed my eyes. My hands grew slack as they loosened on the railing.
She’s under the water. I know it.
My body inched over the railing. I would go below if I had to. I had to see the woman!
“Hey!” shouted a voice from behind.
The singing stopped.
I snapped back to my senses and pulled myself back up. I whirled around at the sound of the voice and saw the large sailor from the afternoon.
“I told you to be careful out here,” he said in low voice that sounded more like a growl.
I looked at him for a spell and wondered how long he had been standing there, watching me as I lowered myself towards the sea below.
What had drawn him back to the deck, I wondered. Why was he here? Now of all times, why here?
And then it hit me.
The threat, the angry bravado.
He knew.
My eyes must have betrayed what I tried to hide for the sailor straightened up and nodded his head slowly.
“You hear her too,” he said.
I said nothing.
He started towards me, his arms crossed over his massive bulk.
“She sings to me every night, you know. Just me. Nobody else. None of the other boys ever heard her. Until now, at least.”
He kept coming towards me. My back was against the railing of the ship.
My hand went instinctively for my Colt, but instead of cold steel I came up with nothing.
I left my gun inside my cabin.
“She’s mine,” he continued. “All mine. And no fuckin’ cowpoke from Redville is gonna have her.”
He charged at me like a raging bull, his thick arms outstretched like two horns. I tried to back up but felt the rail against me and knew there was nowhere to go.
He bellowed as he charged, a primal roar of possession for his beautiful songstress. I waited til the last second before I jumped out of the way and watched him stumble over the railing and into the water below.
I got to my feet quickly and looked over the railing.
He was nowhere to be found.
As I turned to alert the others, to let them know that a man had fallen overboard, the singing started once again.
I looked over my shoulder, back at the water, and let out a gasp.
The siren looked back at me and smiled and as she sang.
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Edit 1: Each month, there will now be 3 different themes. However, contrary to the relatively broad subject presented in January, these 3 themes will be quite contained and specialised (to make it 'edgier').
Edit 2: pushed the word limit to 10k.
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Submitted Works:4
Ok, starting this year, I will start holding a monthly competition.
There will be no physical prize, aside from being mentioned in the site, with your writing skills recognised. Ok, if someone wants to hand out a prize, whether it'd be an honorary title, or a sketch, then go ahead. Do note that I can't give titles, as I am not a moderator.
How it works
Every month there will be a contest pertaining a certain theme to be followed.You will have around two weeks and a half to submit your work.
The submissions will be then anonymously posted in this thread. I will also not post the names of the users who've participated until the end of the poll. I might also PM you a critique of your work, if it's needed.
The voting system
In this contest, there will be two different categories to be won:
One chosen by the judges
One through popular/user votes
By the end of the month, the works' authors will be revealed, as well as the results.
It is entirely possible for one user to win both categories.
3 possible themes for the month of February:
1) Oedipal Complex is a term coined by Sigmund Freud. In his theory of psychosexual stages of development, it is used to describe a boy's affectionate--and incestuous--feelings of desire towards his mother and jealousy and anger towards his father. The boy feels to be in a competition for the possession of his/her mother; he wishes to replace the position of the father in the family.
A similar stage also exist for girls known as the Electra complex.
Needless to say, write a story pertaining this theme, with emphasis on characterisation.
2) Write a fantasy story containing Greek mythology.
3) Write a story exclusively containing the theme of either
carnal love
OR
lust.
Enjoy.
Rating system :
Each work will be assessed through 5 different areas :
1) Plot (the storyline and the characters’ actions)
2) Characterisation (character development)
3) Tone/voice (how well the prose flows well)
4) Pace (succession of actions)
5) Manipulation of language (this collides with 3), and also involves the use of literary techniques)
Each area will be calculated on a 0/100 scale.
After this, the total sum will be added, and then divided by 5.
For example:
Plot: 85
Characterisation: 70
Tone/voice: 90
Pace: 50
Manipulation of language: 98
(85+70+90+50+98)/5= 78.6.
This is the total score.
Ranking system:
There will be 3 winners in the judges’ pick and in the users’ pick, respectively.
1st place: 6 ‘Thank You’ points
2nd place: 4 ‘Thank You’ points
3rd place: 3 ‘Thank You’ points
Edit: In the judge's portion, only the 1st place winner will be given 'Thank You' points.
As I have said, it Is possible for a user to win twice.
Word limit: 200 to 10000 words
Deadline: 20th of February
Jcanlas94@hotmail.com
Good luck, guys!
Judges (Descending order):
Bookworm
Julian Jcanlas94@hotmail.com
Rose
Send your submissions to them via PM or e-mail!
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What you can do
You can have your works critiqued by anyone NOT of this website
You can PM me for questions, such as to clarify the current theme
What you can't do
Soliciting
Revealing your work
Posting your work in the Short Story Section
Asking someone in YWO for help
Ask someone to change your vote
This event is sponsored by: Pengulandia and Co.
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