Night Stroll

When there was nothing in sight, I found a hotel. I was walking for thirty-three long hours without any food; the river was flowing from head to toe; exhaustion was in my head; the jar was filled up to the brim. It was about to explode, but when I saw that hotel, I told myself it is what it is, and I entered through the back door.

The restaurant was relatively full. I don’t like places with people, animals, or anything that has a soul. I didn’t understand their gibberish. It was a fruity, sweet-smelling room. I did not like it, but it is a habit of not liking things, and I like habits. It makes me realistic, disciplined, and a seeker, but most importantly, it keeps me sane.

I sat on a table. My head was spinning, like rats playing poker, and I was hungry, like rats playing poker are hungry. I did not want to eat there, but I told myself that it is what it is. I ordered something, I don’t remember what. The waiter was fairly slim, a feeble one with pale skin. He was good-looking — or maybe not; I don’t remember but I liked him. When the food was served the waiter at the other table winked at me. I felt like vomiting on that plate and his face, but I ate that slimy snail.

I don’t know how much time passed before I felt my legs returning to me after being chopped down and eaten by a group of cannibals. When I looked up again, some faces were changed, most of them were. I saw two people with full coats and round caps in their hands talking authoritatively to an attendee, and behind them was a sign that said “Beware of Vampires and Dogs.” I thought at that time that this can’t be true, that they are only imaginary creatures in the books, created by lonely people sitting so long in the same place that they don’t know anything other than writing and sobbing. Without a second thought, I got out of that place.

I wish I had taken that sign more seriously. I wish I had been more careful so I would not have been in this situation, lying in a dog’s piss and making small talk to a vampire, but now it is what it is. Cain is doing something on his cell phone. I can only see his back, but I know he can see me; he can sense my heartbeat getting faster; I know he is listening to my glands pumping saliva and my throat swallowing it slowly. I do not trust my memories anymore. I can only see a purple sky now, with two moons and people who are sad, angry and betrayed. Until he is busy, let me recall what happened next when I got out of that hotel.

The night was dark, silent, and ominous. I was finding my way through streets with small trash cans and tall buildings, with heavy smoke in the air and little clarity in my vision. I felt someone lurking in the shadows created by the melancholy moonlight. I did not like the moon smirking at me. I like lamp posts better. When I looked back, that hotel was gone, so far behind that I couldn’t see it anymore. It felt like rain, but it wasn’t raining; it was cold, slow, and prickly cold.

I kept walking, taking big steps; my hands were shivering so much that they could not light cigarettes, also, the lighter was out. The cold was too much for me to bear. I did not belong here; I feel cold more than anyone else I’d ever met. I need a hot climate; perhaps I’ll relocate to the east, I reasoned at the time. I could not breathe walking in that freezing refrigerator. I wanted to suck in as much air as I could, but my lungs opposed me. It was a weird place. I saw a tall building looking at me, a woman walking in the sky with her baby, ketchup all over the road — it was a weird place indeed. I did not get bothered by that because it was in my habit not to. But suddenly the last thing I wanted to see was in front of me. The shadow lurker showed itself. I tried to ignore it. I tried to walk past it, but when fate hangs over someone’s head, they do not walk; they run; they run for their lives.

At first glance, it seemed ignorant of my presence. It was menacingly searching for something in that big pile of trash. I tried not to look at it, but my eyes were fixated on that monster. It was large, with four big legs and paws with nails as sharp as blades, ready to cut the finger of a child who is playing near a lawn mower. It was completely covered in black fur. I saw the whole thing one second, and the next second I only saw warm breath and saliva leaking down its mouth and seeping into a drain nearby.

I was scared; my brain was numb, and my heart was crying at the disparity of my life and the way it had treated me. It never occurred to me that these events would take place when I awoke this morning, as excited as life, looking forward to the day. Now I was afraid of dying, either from the cold or from this monstrosity that was staring me down. Tobias started walking slowly towards me, very slowly, with its dreadful eyes shining bright under the moon. I was walking until now, but then I ran.

And the worst thing you can do when confronted by that beast is run. I have read somewhere that you do not run from dogs. They are fast and evil, and they like hunting. You ignore them. “You should remember these points while meeting a dog,” the article said. Instead of ignoring Tobias, the numbness of my brain ignored all the rules I had read. The game had started, the hunger games, in which that horror was the hunter and I was its prey, in which the smile from the devil’s face took all the life from mine.

I ran, I ran, and I gasped, and I ran. I ran fast, as fast as I could, but every time I looked back, it was getting closer. The closer it came, the faster I ran. Hundreds of miles had passed, but the chase was not getting over. I was not running from a dog; I was running from Yama. This is the worst that can happen, or so I thought. Two more Tobias’ stood in front of me. I became a god particle that came to a halt after completing its life cycle.

“Hey, you okay?” Cain asked, interrupting my train of thought.

“Fine now.” I replied.

“Okay.” he smiled.

Where was I? Ah yes, I was about to die. One of the dogs jumped over me, opening its mammoth-like mouth with its forty-two teeth, trying to eat my whole head. I tried to punch it, but my hand slipped. It had a secret weapon — a violent and ruthless weapon. It bathed me in its acidic fluid. My whole body was in pain, itching, and twirling like a worm whose body is sautéed with salt. I was drowning in a dog’s piss.

That acid was melting my skin, and hydrogen sulfide filled up every cranial cavity of my brain. I was about to die when I saw Cain for the first time; he came out of nowhere like an angel. I was relieved to see someone else on that weary night. I blacked out, seeing his slender face and his snow-white fangs. I was at home, in my cradle. I slept.

“Hey man, get up,” Cain said worryingly.

“Can you hear my voice?” he asked. “Can you tell how many fingers there are?”

“Get up! You are going to put me in a lot of trouble.” He started shaking me.

“Get up, get up!” He punched my chest, grabbed my mouth, and started kissing me.

“Get off me, you pervert,” I shouted.

I got up, sitting on my butt I looked at my legs, thinking how am I still alive. The dogs vanished into thin air; they were nowhere to be seen. I was crying from happiness on the inside, but I didn’t want that to be seen by Cain. I wanted to believe that I still had that rock-solid control over my emotions. I still wanted to believe that I was superior to everyone else when it came to managing emotions. I made a calm face, and without twitching any of the eyebrows, I said, “What the fuck was that?”

“I was worried about you–” he said.

“There was nothing to worry about,” I interrupted.

“Nooo. You were crying,” he said, “when that dog started licking you, you started crying.”

“No, I wasn’t.” I wiped my eyes hastily and said, “I was playing with it.”

“It sure didn’t look like that, but it doesn’t matter if you are okay.” he said, “By the way, I’m Cains Jawbone.”

“Ken?”

“Cains.”

“Ken.”

“Cains Jawbone.”

“Sure. Hi Cain, I’m Grey.” I said.

He saw me thinking about the events, or maybe he noticed my eyes searching for his fangs that were not there now.

“Hey, you okay?” Cain asked, interrupting my train of thought.

“Fine now,” I replied.

“OK,” he said, smiling, “now you look like you can walk on your legs, so I must depart; I’m in a hurry. Also, be cautious. I’m leaving you with yourself.”

I looked at him annoyingly, but he must have seen my expression of thankfulness.

He went on his way while I was there, sitting in a park and looking at him like a flower had bloomed and a friend was lost.