Lucifer Pavilions
Jim sat at his desk gazing out of the window. He was eating a bowl of cereal and tapped his fingers on the desk in time to the Stone Roses coming out of the speakers in the room just along the corridor. Jim had been here for a while. He was waiting for something. He was waiting for the woman across the way to come out. She didn't though, I mean, obviously, she did sometimes but she hadn't lately. Then she did. Her raven hair, and in the car, and ... gone. Hmmm. Now for a cappucino...
posted by Mark Baker @ 11:34 am
11 Comments:
Jim loved cappucinos. If there was one thing he loved more than cappucinos it was sitting at his window looking at people, watching them, seeing what they did. Jim was scared. He was scared to go outside. But what he was was inquisitive - inquisitive about the world outside, particularly about his street - Lucifer Pavilions. Jim lived at Number 9, Lucifer Pavilions.
He knocked on Stephan's bedroom down the corridor.
Firstly to ask him if he wanted a cappucino, but mainly to tell him to turn off his stereo or at least change the record.
When Jim went to bed last night, he had to close his door to stop the sound of Stone Roses keeping him awake. And this morning when he got up, Stephan was still playing that same, bloody album.
There was no answer. "Stephan? Oi you lazy bastard you up yet?"
He tried the door handle and it opened, to reveal what looked like a bomb site. All Stephan's papers were strewn all aross the floor along with the contents of all his drawers.
And perched on a chair, propped against the far wall was Stephan. Blood and brains covered the wallpaper behind his head like a great red fan of red feathers.
Oh my God!!!!! Time stood still or moved very fast or something - Jim felt himself vomiting up this morning's English breakfast all over the carpet. Oh my God!!!!! Jim sat down in the hallway on the carpet and tried to gather himself, tried to guard himself against the huge wave of darkness and panic threatening to overwhelm him. What the hell??? Had he really seen what he thought he'd seen? He couldn't look though, just couldn't look - the whole world might come crashing down all around him. Silence spread out like a blanket through the apartment apart from his breathing. Jim's breathing.
A phone rang and Jim nearly fell over a chair in panic.
The sound was coming from inside this room. Somewhere, Jim realised, beneath a pile of strewn papers, Stephan's phone was calling.
yes, man, replied Jim not knowing what the hell he was doing. "Yes, man" he said in a throaty voice, the first time he'd spoken since Stephan had popped his clogs and now Jim was Stephan he was impersonating Stephan - why not? Since there was no Stephan now. There was a vacancy for a Stephan and Jim had never been any good at being himself ...
He woke with a bloodied nose.
"You bleedin' fool, Jim" he groaned to himself. "What did ya have to go and say that for?"
What had he done? Jim hadn't been out of the flat for nearly six years. Stephan had taken care of his shopping as had Ahmed the previous flatmate, before him.
Still on the floor, he put his head back to stem the bleeding. And that's when he noticed the envelope taped inside the light shade, dangling from the ceiling...
Ok, man, he thought to himself, let’s just try and get a grip here shall we? Stephan’s brains have been blown out and I’m impersonating him – I’m going out on a big night at the plaice chippy with Ollie!? Why? Why am I doing this?
The cold night air blew in through an open window, making Jim shiver. He couldn’t just stay here, he realised. He had to do something. There was blood everywhere – Jim was covered in blood – his own blood – Stephan’s blood probably – he was knees deep in blood. He remembered Stephan – the good points – Stephan in fact had been a bit of a bugger, rather a sad case, but … he hadn’t been that bad. He hadn’t deserved this. Who’d done this to him? Who’d done this?
So Stephan had killed himself?
But it seemed a funny place to put your suicide note. Surely it could be easily overlooked up in the light shade?
He unfolded the note carefully...a small photo dropped out to land face down on the carpet. He started to read the note.. and then froze when he read the signature at the bottom. It was not Stephan's name that he saw.
"Kelly"...Kelly? Who the hell is Kelly?
He remembered the photo and bent down to pick it up. He dropped it again as he gasped in recognition.
It was a picture of the girl across the way with the raven hair. The girl he watched every morning for the last year. Kelly...
Jim looked over to poor Stephan again. Except that this time he was calm and could take in what he saw. And he saw that Stephan could not have killed himself...
Because there was no gun.
"Stephan?"
"No, man, I'm not Stephan"
Jim ran - he ran towards the front door that had this complicated chain system - oh my God - why, why had he installed all these fucking chains!? He could hear and feel breathing down the back of his neck as he ripped and tore and scrambled and scuffled at the chains and then before he knew what the hell he was doing he was out in the open air, cold, fresh, sharp like a biting sting on his cheeks, running madly, everything aflail down the garden vaulting the hedge and madly running down the street til he got to the end, turned right and kept on lungs fucking bursting now then he looked round. A wide-eyed man with a fucking axe was bearing down on him!
The wolves of Dunkirk gathered round to listen to all of this. Poor old Jim - now though he's out of the house and what might he do? Stephan melts away to go back to the house to clean up blood and gore and Jim is just left there in the middle of the road feeling like bananas, feeling as if he can't move what with agoraphobia and all. A passing policeman says, "Hello!" "Hello!" Jim replies but it sticks in his throat - poor old Jim can't even speak - all he wants is a packet of Trebor mints what he'd like would be to rediscover the sweet shop of his youth - Mrs MacMuggins and her sherbet dip, her fruity picnics and sherbet gobstoppers by George - no though a red mist is descending. "I live in Lucifer Pavilions", he thought to himself. "This is what it means. I'll never escape, I'll never escape from Lucifer Pavilions." Just then Kelly literally bumped into him ...
"Oh sorry, I..." started Kelly. "Wait a minute. Aren't that guy across the road in Stephan's flat...you're always staring at me when I set off from work."
"Umm.. yes. My names Jim. And it's my flat." Jim said as he extended a hand.
"I don't really care what your name is. I just want you to stop watching me. Makes me feel fucking creepy, so just pack it in please"
Jim limply drops his hand to his side, and then remembers something in his pocket. "I thought you were in danger. I've never talked to you 'cos I can't leave the flat. I'm agrophobic" Jim started as Kelly turned to leave.
Kelly stopped. "Well you seem to have cured yourself pretty quickly!"
"As I said I thought you were in danger. I found this" he said handing her the suicide note. "I found it in Stephan's room"
Kelly read the note. "Why that creepy little fuck. I can't believe he kept this. That was years ago. Just cos he saved me from doing something stupid once, doesn't mean that he's my boyfriend or anything!"
Jim was taken aback. " But he said.."
"I don't care what he said. I've told him I want nothing to do with him. Jesus, how many other stalkers live in that fucking flat of yours? Are you breeding 'em or something?" Jim's face reddened and he turned to go.
"Oh shit. Look I'm sorry. I'm just shooting my mouth off. I guess if you are homophobic or whatever it was, it must've taken some balls to come out and find me."
Jim paused and looked into her eyes.
"Jim isn't it? Look, as you're out already, what about a ...I don't know, a coffee or something?"
"I'd love a cappucino" Jim blurted. Kelly smiled and took his arm.
Post a Comment
<< Home