The Infinite Existence of Life and of Love PART I I once told someone that without them I am nothing and then there's today.Today I can't remember who this person is, but that's not the bad part. The bad thing is I awoke this morning in an unfamiliar house and at this very moment I have no idea who I am. Ever since then I have been sitting in this bed, scared to move. Scared to open the door across the floor to see what is on the other side. Something inside is restraining me, tugging my guts and pulling me to stay on this bed. There's a window to my left, and I have been staring out of it, admiring the freshness of the outside world. The sun is peaking through the branches of a large tree that is almost bare. Leaves are parading around the tree, mingling with the light breeze. In the distance I see the tail end of a limo. I'm wondering if I was drugged and kidnapped by rich people. About this time I hear a knock on the door. " Are you awake yet, sir?" says the voice of an older man. The butler, perhaps. I open my mouth, but no words come out. I hear footsteps, slowly fading down what seems to be a long hall. I couldn't answer, because maybe I'm not the sir he was calling for. Looking around the bedroom, I see that this couldn't be a male's room. The walls are a salmon color, with paintings all around, with a few dolls around eerily facing toward the bed. The wall with the door has nine paintings perfectly aligned. They are all of beautiful women with words beneath them. The words are in a strange language, maybe Latin, and they read, EUTERPE; CLIO; ERATO; POLYHYMNIA; TERPSICHORE; THALIA; URANIA, but the last one, which made me feel uneasy as I read it, said THIS WAS MELPOMENE. But it is not those words that frightened me, it is that the bottom portion was a painting of a woman with blood going down her robe, and the top portion is a mirror. The question in my mind is whether or not some girl was killed here, maybe in this room, or for some reason, this is hinting at my fate. Maybe this was my fate. But I must know, what is Melpomene? "Are you awake now, sir?" It's time to live up to this dream. It's time to know who I am, where I am, and who wants to kill me. "Yes, I'm awake." "If I may come in, sir.." After hearing my voice, this person knows I am supposed to be here. Maybe I'm a patient in my own home. Maybe the psychotic piece of artwork is my sister's. Or maybe I'm in Heaven, after dying. This couldn't be Hell, it's too tranquil, however, I don't know why I'd be in Heaven. While thinking this, the man enters, and just as I thought, he is an older man, and judging by his clothes, he is the butler of this house. "There is tea downstairs, if you are not feeling better yet," he says in a calming voice that is so genuine. His eyes appear almost watery, but maybe it's his old age. "No. I'm fine, thank you. May I asked you something?" "You may." "Am I a patient? Like, you know. Do I have amnesia or something? What's my name? What's your name? Where am.." "Sir. I assure you, you are not suffering from amnesia. You have known of me since the day you've been able to eat pie and distinguish it from brussel sprouts. As for your name, you've never told me, so I've always called you Sir. My name...well, you've never asked my name, Sir. And this beautiful place, is yours. All yours. Look out that window over there. Do you see that pink sky bleeding into the land? All yours." "So I have no idea what you're talking about and yet I don't have amnesia?" "Listen, sir. This must seem so perfect to you, but there is Hell to be seen in this place. You awoke today from a long sleep. There are more worlds out there than you understand. Not afterlives--alterlives. We create our own universes and find them when we discover our destiny. This world was made for you to discover something. And to die with a smile on your face. When you were a bit younger--maybe a day ago, maybe a hundred years ago--you told me we create fate. It was you who told me that we decide if we have nice lives or bad ones." "I don't understand. How many years have I been alive, really? Did God do this?" "It is obvious your memories are intact. You know of the word God. Odd, however, since you're an atheist." "Oh. I am? Yes, I am. I do know that. WAIT! That girl. The one I keep thinking of. Who is she?" "There is Hell to be seen in this place, you better get sleep," the butler says as he exits. Hell isn't real... At the moment, I'm looking through things in this bedroom. I'm still not certain whose room this is. But there are many odd trinkets, toys, books, and notebooks everywhere. In one corner of the room, there's what seems to be a type of childrens playset. Three headless ballerinas are dancing, one in front of the other, getting smaller with each ballerina, with a little swing next to them. Then to another corner, I see a type of snowglobe on the desk, but with no snow. No snow covered houses, no children building a snowman. Just a crystal ball with a thin layer of grass at the bottom. I sit it back on the desk, exactly as I found it, then take notice to a cardboard box next to the desk. It has a lid that isn't quite covering the whole box, so I push the lid a little more to get a good peek, and oddly it's just a box full of wooden doll pieces and little doll clothes, and I'm compelled to look through them, hoping to find some type of message at the bottom of the box, but my search came up pointless, because the only thing out of place is a doll head that looks as though it's been burnt. Why? I lick my thumb and then begin scrubbing the head, and for some illogical reason, all the ash comes right off. I'm now feeling in a silly mood, so I give it a body and dress it up in a tuxedo, for whatever little girl slept here, maybe this is a gift or dedication; which I'm unsure. I'm sitting against a wall now, still looking around at the dolls, and letting my curiosity build on what is written in all those notebooks. Then I notice the ballerinas and the swing. I walk over to it with the doll in hand, and place it in the swing. Then I get light headed and fall to the ground. What's going on?! The wall turns into...muscle. It's a giant muscle with veins, And the whole wall is pumping like a heart. THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP..... "BUTLER GET IN HERE! HELP!" These are the last of my memories, until I awake to see him next to me, sitting on the floor, just watching me, though something seems very spiteful and intentional about him just watching me, he also looks concerned; it's those glossy eyes. "What happened?" "It happens, Sir. I've learned to let it be, because you know what to do." "But this was not normal. The uh.. That wall. It was alive." He looks at me for a moment, "It happens, Sir." and then he stands up, and reaches his hand down to help me up, and I hesitate to take it, but nontheless, I do. But then he says something that almost makes me faint again, "Get ready for your show, it's in five hours, and we've got a two hour drive a head of us." "Uh, what?" "You're a rockstar, and you've almost made it big," he smiles. "Now go to your dressing room, right across the hall there," he points, and then shuts the door behind him. I know he's laughing to himself, he knows I'm playing a game, and I'm the player that doesn't know the rules. I run to the notebooks. Page after page of stanzas, completed poems, and single phrases. And now I'm smiling to myself. I'm a rockstar. I leave this room, to go to my in-home dressing room. And I enter to see a mirror with lights all around it, a big chair, and plenty of brushes and....make up. And then everything else is clothes, clothes and more clothes. And now I'm starting to remember who I am. Though I'm confused as to why there is make up, I'm very excited. I know this is what I want. I look through my clothes, and see so many nice things. "And today, I'm feeeeeeeeeeeeelin' beautiful!" I put on a plain black t shirt with slightly shortened sleeves, and it feels a little too small for me, but I go with it. There's a pink jacket with a big poofy collar, and long feathers flowing out of it like a water fall. The same poofiness is at the end of the widened sleeves. I pull it off the rack, and put it on me. I feel so silly, but I know this is right; this is what I want. I pull off the cargo pants I had on, and put on black bell bottoms, that feel really comfortable, because they're velvety. I pick out a white belt with a circular buckle, and then look through the shoes, and it appears I have quite a variety, even white high heels. But today I'm going with lace up knee high boots. And now I'm looking in the mirror. Perhaps I'm a dragqueen, maybe I'm gay. Who is that girl?! I feel very comfortable with what I'm looking at. And I feel as though I'm looking at myself for the first time ever. Then suddenly I rub my cold glass face on the mirror. And I feel as numb as a window, as transparent, as broken. But so beautiful. I sit down to place long faux eyelashes in my eyes. They are glittery and red. And then I do my nails the same glittery red, and in happiness, but in cold emptiness. My hair is long and curling on the ends, and frizzy. I brush it and then proceed to cut it, so that it gets shorter and shorter in the back. It was a blind man's haircut, because I have no idea what is going on in the back, whether it is ugly or not, but what I see in the mirror, is the most beautiful thing I can remember seeing since her. I stand up, and once again I whisper to myself, today I'm feelin' beautiful. The butler walks in, seeing the mess, "Don't worry about the hair, the maid will clean. But you did an excellent job. You're filling in the pieces. Now snap, snap. We still have four hours, but it never hurts to be a little early, your crew is setting up, and the band is already there. Today you make history, Sir!" He says as he begins to pull a hat out behind him, "And I'm your limo driver, as well!" He walks us out, and down the stairs, which are laid with red carpet. It is a spiral staircase, and paintings are aligned on the wall just before it stops about midway of the stairs. Down here is a beautiful living room, and a kitchen, which reminds me of food. I am tempted to ask, if we're going to eat before the show, but I suppose it's ritual to leave without eating first. We walk out the huge door, and I see that the sky is still pink, and appears to be bleeding into the ground. This is the perfect world. And I look to see that big tree, with leaves never ceasing to dance around it. He opens the door for me, and I say "Thank you,...." searching for a name. And he grins. He gets in, and we ride off. It's very blue in here now, due to the tinted windows. But the world is beautiful. He passes back white Jackie-O shades, to match my belt. And now the rockstar is complete. It's a long silent ride. I see no people at the buildings we pass. All the buildings are very clean, though they have no signs above them telling their purpose. I wonder where everyone is. "What time is it, Butler?" "Twelve Nineteen, sir." "How long have we been riding?" I see him smile in his rear view mirror, and then he looks back. "Two hours." And he was right on target with his estimating of the trip, because a few minutes later we're pulling into a huge auditorium. Cars are everywhere. And a very large black man and a white man of the same height and build accompanies him. "Hello, sir!" Just as gently and nice as the butler, and I smile at him and say, "Hi." I feel like the discarded gum on the bottom of his shoe, but he is my body guard. They both walk behind me, and I feel very much on top of the world. A few people gather round and take pictures, one girl of maybe 15 holds out a tablet, and begs for my autograph. She has black eyeliner coated heavily around her eyes, brown hair with red highlights through out, and a black attire. I look at the black man, puzzled, and he grins, and says "The Art of Flesh." I take the girl's pen and tablet while smiling ever so sincerely at her, and then I look at the paper, and wonder what to write. I have no idea. So I ask her name, and she says "Ashley," Then I do what is natural. Thanks for your support Ashley, The Art of Flesh She takes it and then looks at me excitedly, as I walk off, smiling. This feels like such a photographic moment. A permanent mark in history. So I am The Art of Flesh. We walk back stage, and the butler departs. My guards are behind me. Then I meet my band, all dressed in similar suits, almost like a modernized victorian style and in make up. They look at me and smile. I think they're a part of the game as well. They know everything I do not. "So don't bands usually rehease in a tour bus together or something?" "Well that is always the plan, but we know the situation was difficult for you this morning," says one guy with spiked black hair with green tips, and a long dark green jacket with huge gold buttons going down the middle. He's holding a guitar, so he must be the guitar player. We stand there quietly for a minute. Then a bald guy, also in the band, asks while smiling, "So have you been studying your lyrics," and they all laugh. It then strikes me for the first time in hours that I have not read a single line, other than my glance at the notebooks. "I've got it down." "We know," they say. The crowd is cheering, screaming, out there. "...ART OF FLESH! ART OF FLESH!..." I go out on stage, and they all whistle and go crazy. My band is behind me, and everything I do from here on is almost like a possession. I don't control my actions anymore. "I woke up today in a strange place, and I thought about this special girl, so this first song is for her." And my band know exactly what I'm about to sing, as the drummer starts, and the guitar picks up." You are a queen I just want you to know That wherever you are, It's so cold out there in the snow, And I will find you and save you, I'll be the King and I'll take you away. It's cold in here, Looking in my beauty mirror, I get lost in time, Because it's your voice I long to hear. Again. I'm shedding a frozen tear Because it's your voice I long to hear. Again. I'd walk in the snow just to save you. I'd die in the snow just to know you. My queen, I know you're out there. And my search isn't through. .... I continue singing, and everyone is following a long, a few people through out even holding up lighters, and I think this is funny, but I go a long with it. I play several songs through out the night, of different types, some heavier than others. ... Everytime I'm shot in the head, I blink as I hear the sound, and to prove myself brave, I must fire another round. ... The show is so surreal and amazing. After it is over, we're all drenched in sweat, and the guitarist comes to me, and tells me to go home, and that the next show isn't much farther away, so it'd be all right to ride in the limo again for tomorrow's show, but after saying this, his words become circular as he adds, "Hey, we'll meet again, okay?" he smiles. And I say nothing, or give any facial expression, I just walk off behind the butler, and infront of my bodyguards. I walk out, and people are standing everywhere wanting my signature. I give a few, and return to the limo. Now it's just the butler and me. "So did you enjoy your show, Sir?" He says, looking back at me. "Yes, it was quite nice. I'm starting to understand things. I know I'm dead." "Why do you think this?" "I don't remember life. I have vague flashbacks of a girl. The one I know is out there somewhere. But I do know this isn't it. This isn't life. I must be dead." "What, is death to you, Sir? It's when something is missing, right? It's when your life is missing. What's life to you?" He's serious now. "Without her, I am nothing." We are now staring eachother, with the mirror dividing our eyes between us. I think I've just read the rules. And at the moment I'm thinking this, the roof of the car begins to ooze red liquid. This scares me when I notice it, and then I touch it, out of curiosity, and I realize it's blood. The blood is slowly making it's way down the window, until it finally meets the bottom, where a puddle builds like the growing tear in an eye. The second it appears this way to me, the window to my right, becomes an eyeball, maintaining the shape of the window. The pupil is stretching and pulling looking in different directions. I look at the front of the limosine, at the Butler, and he is not there. There is no steering wheel, yet in the place of it, is a circular vein, that continues to throb. It's happening again, just like in that room. I look out of one of the windows that is still just a window, to see the world going in fast motion. "BUTLER, WHERE ARE YOU!?" I say as I begin to hear him now, but I cannot see him. Through the drumbeats, I hear a voice "THE WORLD IS NOT THIS IT IS NOWHERE AND YOU ARE THE CORE OF ITS CREATION BUT IF YOU CREATE NOTHING THEN WHAT ARE YOU?" I faint, and my next memory is in that room. The first room I remember awakening to. "Are you awake yet, Sir?" "Stop it! We've done this already, and I'm sick of playing!" I say, now angered. "Listen, come in here. I'm ready for you to talk to me." He walks in, innocently as ever, still genuine, but now he's beginning to look genuinely sneaky as well, "You created me, and I am your servent. This world is the perfect world to you, but humans are lazy, and they all need motivation, you all need motivation, to achieve the perfect world. And there is one thing that will make this entire universe manifest out there somewhere, someday. And she is it. You are a dreamer. As we are speaking, you are somewhere transcribing our very worlds in your head. I am looking at you, beautiful as you are, but this is not you. YOU, the one sitting here before me, are the model of the person that is dreaming you." I look at him, with a tear creating a path down my face. "Why are they doing this? Why are they making everything complicated? Is THIS why God does not exist?" And his face mimics the actions of my own, as he now has a path going down his face. "Listen to me, Sir. The guy outside of this dream, The You, is suffering too. He is suffering the past. And why you keep hallucinating these things, well, I see them too, but they are coming from you. You are trying to escape this place." He says this, as he stands up, and begins to exit. He still has tears flowing from his weak eyes. "Goodbye....Sir." He leaves my door open this time, and I still sit here on this bed, wondering what is going on around me, and before I come to a conclusion of any sort, I hear a loud bang. The butler has shot himself, it seems. I stand up, and notice the doll I made has his hand around the third ballerina of the toyset. I have no idea, if this happened on its own, or if the butler placed it, but either way my doll fancies a ballerina. Everything is an illusion, all of it. I grab the snowglobe, the empty one, but I notice a flower bud, something beginning to grow. I feel like there's something magical about it. I take it with me, to go outside, to find some type of exit to this place, on my way out I look at the mirror on the wall once more. I have smeared make up all across my face. And below the mirror, I read once again, THIS WAS MELPOMENE. I'm now leaving this room, careless, with no more tears. I pass by the butler's body, as I walk down the final step. I step over it, without even looking down. I don't care; none of this is real. I walk outside, I first take notice to the dark night sky, still beautiful as it were in the day, and then look down and I begin walking in the beautiful green grass, and there are a rocks and a few fairly large stones scattered through out. I look at the snowglobe. There's life emerging with in it, and I think, "You know what, little flower? You're bullshit." And I throw it against the largest stone I see. A glittery dust-like substance scatters in the air, from the base, and suddenly, the stone begins throbbing, like a heart, just as what usually occurs. I see a face in the stone. Eyes, and a mouth. The mouth opens, and I see teeth, just like that of a human. Blood is steadily pumping out. And a fountain of water unleashes, from an eye when it opens, and it speaks, "You! Leave! Now is your chance. You have seen Hell, and now it's time to create Heaven." It says, as I back a way, not scared, but still confused. The stone has the voice of the Butler, except it's almost as if it's a choir of voices. And suddenly everything begins melting, and throbbing, around me. The beautiful sky is dripping down, like a watercolor painting. The tree turns into a bloody arm, with no skin around it, just muscle and vein. I look up, to see whiteness, where the sky has leaked away. "It's tearing down! It's all gone!" And as tradition, I am slowly fading away. PART II He's awake! Oh my god! He's awake, someone get in here! These are the words I hear amidst beeping machinery, as I slowly awake to see a doctor looking over me. "God, where are they? Didn't they hear me? Are you okay, Joshua?" He says, intently. "Joshua, huh? Hah. Yeah, that's it," I say as I sit up, "Oh man, what happened?" "You mean you don't remember a thing? You just stopped breathing, and someone found you. We have no idea what could have caused it, other than stress." I look at him quickly, and immediately ask, "Stress?" "You know, since your girlfriend died." The girl. Without her I was nothing. "WHO?! Why did she die? What happened to her!?" I ask, growing impatient and angered. "Oh Lord, you don't remember anything do you? Well, her case was very similar to yours, we believe. We never exactly knew what happened to her...we just.." "Was I dead, before I was revived?!" "Well, pretty much, but it isn't that simple..." "What is her name?! TELL ME, or I'll jump out of that window over there." He tells me, and then I run out of the room, a few members of the staff chase me, but I get away, finding a knife-like medical instrument, before I leave the building. Their carelessness is their fault. Everything is growing familiar, now that I know her name. And I even know where she is buried. I run there, as it is not very far away. I'm approaching her grave in tears. Under that pile of dirt, is her body. While thinking this, the tears are fogging my eyes, and I trip over a rock that must have been well bedded into the ground. Upon falling, the instrument stabs my heart, and I simultaneously bump my head on her tombstone. And I begin seeing a whitelight, just as they see in the movies and those evidence for Heaven documentaries, but now I know what that white light is, and for me it's the world I created. The world I am in, is fading to nothing. And here I am--yet again in a different reality, witnessing a sky that is blueish black, with lights complimenting it. Stars. I see Erika standing there, and I run to her. She's gazing at them. "Do you like them?", I ask. She smiles, just as I remember her beautiful smile. She hasn't spoken yet. "Erika, that place we just came from, the one where you were dead, and I was in the hospital...you created that world so I could find you, didn't you?" I ask, as I'm beginning to piece everything together. "Yes, and the world you were in before that one; you created it...to find me..., didn't you?" She looks at me, still smiling a beautiful smile, and I nod. "This is it, Erika. Our world. We have created destiny. All of it is ours. Isn't that amazing?", I say excitedly. She laughs, in amazement as well. I take her arm, and ask, "What do you want to call it?" She looks down at the ground, and makes the ground rise beneath us, so that we're on a well elevated hill. I create a tree full of apples, and pull one off the tree, to take a bite out of it. And she answers, "Earth," as we walk off, into the beautiful darkness.