Entropy and other inconveniences…

linked to this story here: X

„Nobody took a dump here.“ A scrawl in black sharpie stretched over the upper right corner of the booth door. „SEXXX! Call 314-159-26.“ The lower margin of the door warned about the pervy limbo dancers.

Andy cracked a smile and checked for the naked chocolate bar and the newspaper in the inner pockets of his long leather jacket. Someone flushed a toilet two cubicles to the right. He heard the somebody leaving the public restroom without washing hands. The door slammed shut. Andy sighed. He squeezed his notebook into one of the butt pocket of his denims. His naked toes felt wet and cold on the tile floor. He took a deep breath. The air was stale, the aroma of urine was overwhelming. He consoled himself with the fact, that in a blink, he was going to disappear from the questionable puddle.

A whispering fizzling noise echoed from the walls of the room, and Andy concentrated upon an imaginary spot, half a step away, in front of his navel. A little sphere of pale blue ball of brightness formed instantly. He cupped his hands hovering two inches away from the light. He made it bigger and bigger. The muscles in his arms vibrated with effort, he made the sphere spin. He stretched it  over his shoulders and took a deep breath.

Andy stepped into the pale blue vortex in front of him.

The bathroom, and the rest of the world at his back folded, and faded to nonexistence. Everything went black. The muscles on his chest and back rippled with tension and fibrillation.

At the edge of his visual perimeter, the pale blue light twitched and sparked.

He stood in an Andy-shaped hole in the fabric between realities. His spine tingled and burned, as if his skin had been shock frosted. He felt lightning licking and stinging at the back of his head and around his shoulder blades. His fingertips and bare feet stung with electric pins and needles.

Entropy swept over him like a tidal wave, knocking his breath out, leaning on him, pushing downwards. He bowed his head. Submerged in the currents of energy flow, he slid through spacetime layers into lower energy state realities. The torrent caught him in a tight grip around his waist and yanked him down.

He hated this part. The sinking feeling in his stomach froze his mind. He panicked.

He usually did.

What if, he got a hypo here and had no strength to get out again? Would he die, or would he be arrested in the terrified state of  just realizing, that he was about to die?


His instincts took over. „Hold onto something.“ They demanded. „Let it guide.“

His hand grabbed his daughter’s little praying bead bracelet. The pressure that made him bow, lifted suddenly.

In his imagination a happy family breakfast flared up. Ava buttered a bun for Emily. He was drinking coffee. He smiled.

Depressurizing made him dizzy. The breakfast table faded, as he stopped focusing upon it. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear. He closed his eyes. For once, no static filled his head. Calm. He imagined this was peace. Surely this was what it felt like.

He wanted to remain. Inertia crept into his mind. But he knew he couldn’t stay.

He never stayed.

Peace was not human nature. Guilt was. Sickness, decay, futility, death, war and famine were too. Always suffering…

The burning sensation chewed up his limbs, his arms and legs stung. His face hardened into a heavy ice mask.

Transition was a bitch. He couldn’t breathe. His eyelids weighed tons, lips sagged.

He couldn’t stop shivering. The clench of solid inertia overpowered his bones, his organs, his muscles.

The breakfast table flickered again. It hung in front of him, some steps away, taunting. He shuffled a foot forward. He had to keep going. He had to reach it. The darkness pushed into his pores, dissolving in his veins.

He felt sick and broken. Entropy knew he was, and caught in his edges, in the fissures of his brokenness. It cooed to the darkness, that sprouted in his body and soul. The rotten blackness in him grew. His heart seemed to transform to a homing beacon to catastrophes and bad intentions. He had no time to brace himself. The dizziness tipped him out of his position. He spun, but his heart slowed.

He had to keep moving. The gaps between his heart beats grew.

Sick yellow light shone somewhere in front of him. It flickered like a candle a mile away in a dark stormy night. He tore at the slowness of his body. He tore at the spinning of his senses.

Move. Just.



He fell to his knees in a moving cargo elevator, between Floor 17 and 18. The air around him crackled and fizzed. The elevator stopped with a sigh and a jolt. The lights flickered a slight bit.

For a moment, Andy’s arms remembered the shape his dying daughter. The smell of strawberry shampoo and blood hit him. The memory sank deeper and vanished from his consciousness, as his heart accelerated. The familiar pain burrowed deeper into his spine. Guilt zeroed in of him, and he knew he had the right timeline.

He shivered violently. Rime coated the walls of the elevator, his clothes, skin, hair, brows and eyelashes.

His mouth was a desert. His lungs tried to breathe. His heart tried to crawl up his throat. An invisible hand compressed his chest. Air refused to get in.

Andy propped his arms on his knees.

No hunger, no cold, no nothing.

His body willed itself back to normality and tried to swallow.

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