Sunfruits Avenue (Unfinished)

The music pulsated and roared violently throughout the thick crowd of dancing people. The violet and crimson lights shone down and danced with them. The night was deep with darkness but the party was still livid. People were screaming and laughing and dancing, like feral animals; at the heart pounding techno music; they were careless of the reality around them. I watched them from afar, leaning on the wooden doorway with a plastic red cup clenched in my hand imbibed with a caramel brown liquid. It was not my drink: I was holding it for a friend, who was screaming in the wilds of the crowd.

She was more of the party goer than I was. The extrovert. She was the one who invited me - well, when I write “invited”, I mean “forced me to go.” She always loved it whenever I came with her, like I was some little pet she needed to have around at such occasions. She would debunk me, claiming that I was that friend to stop her from doing anything too reckless. I knew that I was someone to stand beside her and make her look cooler. Either way, I never complained. I just went with what she said.

On rare occasions I would have fun at parties; sometimes coming across someone who was just as awkward as I was, in a similar situation that I was in or I would find a quiet spot to step back from reality, walk up into the attic of my mind and wander about until dawn grew and the party grew dim. During that party, with the pulsating music, the feral humans, and the dancing lights, I met someone who would change my life.

I was simply watching them, subtly nodding my head to that bass that ran through your chest, vaguely entranced in my own little world where sound was absolute, then, suddenly, I was greeted by a gentle tap on my shoulder. The little world shattered, and I glanced towards the tap. The first articles of interesting I noticed was a smile that said “trust me” and a pair of soft silver eyes gleaming in the crimson lights. They belonged to a tall, olive skinned, dark haired man clad in a leather jacket and slicked back hair with an air of coolness around him. I was never enthralled by guys; but I was curious about him: he held something else in his air.

“Lame party, right?” he asked me; his silvers fluttering down onto me.

“Yeah,” said I; quickly glancing back at the party to see if my friend was doing fine. She was still very lively and bouncy, very much happy and unaware.

“It’s just people trying to forget about their troubles,” he leaned next to me on the door, folding his arms and finger-combing his hair back. “To them, this is what life's all about. A meaningless series of sounds and movements that they congeal together, hoping that it will lead them to the pointless form of sex; and then they’ll just go back to their boring lives as boring people.” He sighed and gave a few moments of silence as we looked back at them once more. He swiveled his neck and he looked at me with a kindness in his eyes. “But you’re different. You see something else in living. You see something deeper.” He glanced downwards at my friend’s plastic cup. “And yet you are trapped, coming to these pointless parties.” His mouth curled into a smirk. “Why don’t we talk? There’s somewhere quiet up on the roof where you can keep your head clear and your thoughts precise.”

I stammered, trying to think of a polite way of telling him to back off. I backed away from him, raising my hands up to my face; but he grabbed his wrist, with the flicker of a smile, and he took me to the supposed place he talked about. It was like a ghostly force was at work, aiding him in his cause, because I did not resist nor fight back. I simply let him commit to his proposition. I wanted to fight back; but I did nothing to discontinue him.

We walked up an old set of rusted steel stairs, past a rather intoxicated couple who were in the midst of a sloppy lip locking, and through an opening where we stood together, him still clasping my wrist, on an old oak railing. We gazed over at the inky black sky, and we looked up at the many cluster of stars that looked like spilt milk. The sight of stars always make my heart race. I always think about another species of people gazing up at the same stars, countless light years away, wondering if there is any life outside of their world; and how I will never be able to touch hands with them.

The music had faded away as if it were miles away and we were stranded together on a lone island, looking up at the night sky.

He gave a pearly white smile up at the stars, then he looked back at me “Isn’t it beautiful?” he said.

I did not respond. I simply stared up at the wonderment of the twinkling lights and the fantastical plane of the universe that was merely too far for me to touch. It was all captivating.

He then released my wrist and he cleared his throat. “Safire.”

I glared back at him, tearing myself from the stars.

How does he know my name?

He then placed his hands on my shoulders, and I thought he was going to kiss me. I tried to back away from the disgusting swine; but the same unnatural force prompted me to pucker out my lips and accept the unwanted kiss. Our lips met in a soft, fleshy embrace - I closed my eyes and I tried to picture myself somewhere else, but I was pulled to reality like a kit being pulled by a little child. I tried to delve deeper and deeper into my mind, trying my best to transpose myself elsewhere.

Then, he grabbed me forth and threw me across the railing and I landed on the ground with a terrible thud, and I shattered into a million pieces and I fell into an abyss of nothing. Then I fell awake, drenched in a sticky sweat and in a room that was not my own.

The room was pale and small; there was only a metallic sink in a corner, with a mirror overtop of it, a steel door across from myself, and the bed slab on which I lay. It looked more like a prison than a bedroom, but there was a little voice that was telling me home.

I stood up onto the pale floor, which pierced my feet coldly and sharply. I felt a few droplets of water dripping from the ceiling. The water was chilling and unkind, and it made me jump each time it touched me. I looked around in dismay at the foreign environment; and quickly I ran towards the mirror to see if I was myself.

I still held my sharp and slender features, the freckles across my nose and cheekbones, and my amber coloured eyes; but the style of my gingery hair was different - instead of being a long and braided, it was short and one side was shaved off; and it was fringed with a pale blue. It was a strange sight to see myself so similar yet different. I would never dye my hair nor have it done like that. It was an oddity to see. Then I heard pounding against my door, causing me to jump in a sudden fright.

“Hey, Safire!” a chirpy voice cried from the other side of the door. “Are you up? You said you would be up by now! Come on!”

“Okay, Jade!” The words seeped from my mouth as if it were an automatic reflex. I did not know that the chirpy voice was someone called Jade; but it was the little voice who told me her name.

I quickly strode up to the metal door - which swung open as I stood in front of it - and I saw a wiry woman with short lemon blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and a heart shaped face; wearing a pale hoodie and pale pants. She sketched a wide smile across her face and there was a pleasness woven into her eyes.

“Come on!” she began to walk down and usher me with her.

I stepped out from the metal door to see a lengthy corridor that was formed with glass and a world of water surrounded it as if there were a grand aquarium around us. There were schools of vastly coloured and shaped fish that swam around us, going about their business.

I stood bedazzled by the majesty of the dark, mysterious submerged world that stood outside, weighing down upon us, only to be prevented by a thin piece of glass. It seemed completely alien to me, and it was like I was closer to the stars than ever before.

As I continued to look out more shapes began to appear as if it were a fantastic work of art painting itself. I saw shadowed, looming buildings that stood out in the depths like ancient seafaring guardians; I saw people float about in large bubbles; and there were many tunnel-like formations that were connection each and every building, conglomerating it all like one giant hive. It was a spectacular sight to see, and I was only pulled from it when I heard Jade scream at me.

I turned towards her, the colour draining from my face in a sudden shock. She folded her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

“Come on!” she shouted. “I don’t want to be late! The others are waiting for us!” With that she continued to run down the glass corridor.

I slowly followed her, unsure of where were we going and who “the others” were. The little voice remained quiet and that strung me a little worriedly.

We went down the corridor briskly, and there were some peculiar sights inside the corridor.

There were people whom were synthetically made from metal and electronics, but they all bore an individuality, whether it was in a certain look they carried or an evident way they walked or an obvious manner they held about them. There was one that had what looked like a red fin upon its head; another that hunched over and limped as it walked; and another that was madly shouting “The end is nigh!” like some insane percher.

There were also people that resembled animals, but they acted and walked and dressed - in the same pale hoodie and pants that Jade had. There were some that looked cat-like; some appeared fox-like; some seemed wolf-like; and some resembled otters.

Jade and I stopped when we came to the end of the corridor and there in front of us was a great city laid in front of us. There were bright neon signs that peered over every corner of the street, either trying to sell something or direction you to somewhere, and the majority were crimson and violet; there were buildings made of a black glass, that occasionally lit up with a vibrant violet light, that watched over the city like a stern parent over its child; and the city was littered with a great stream of people that seemed rather easy to get lost and swept away in.

I stood frozen in shock and awe as I gandered at this strange urbanized place that was before us. My breath was stolen from me and my eyes grew wide, trying to scope in more of the place. Jade, however, seemed climatized to the area; she, instead, looked at me quizzically and asked me “Are you okay?”

I looked back at her quickly and I quickly shook my head up and down; and without a second to spare we went off into the streets and its waves of people. I kept close to her with each passing step - a few times I would bump into her, where she should tell me to watch where I was going. Regardless, we trekked on and the further we went on through the city the more I was entranced by its haunting beauty that seemed ethereal. It was like everyone was performing a dance to ensure a balance was maintained amongst its people.

I looked up at a strange building that twisted around itself that had a great pink and yellow neon sign that spelt out “Lone Diggers’” and there were curvaceous women outside of the building in great glass vials that slowly and gracefully danced. A few goers were mesmerized by their liquid-like movement and by their divine appearance.  Though as I continued to gaze at the dancers I noticed that their faces were blank like an empty canvas.

We wandered on, seeing strange sights that almost made my jaw drop or my eyes bulge. This otherly world was surely not a place like home. Home felt infinitesimal, as if there was nothing else do to there, especially in contrast to this new place, which felt like a whole new adventure awaiting to fathom and discover.

We came to a small building that had the words “Sunfruit Avenue” written in bold, orange and crimson neon letters that flashes sequentially. It was not as grand nor as showy as some of the other establishments in this strange place, but it had its own warm feeling of welcoming and acceptance. Outside of the building there were violet-leaved trees that bore bright orange fruit. 

The Pale Woman

For days she had been scavenging in the bleak, uncomfortable alleyway of an alien city. She picked and ate every rotten morsel she could find within the steel trash bins, no matter how much the vile taste scorched her tongue. The pain of hunger seared through her stomach and the sharp, cold air bit at her ferociously, as if it were also hungry. With each gust of wind that nipped at her skin, she shivered ever so violently, clutching herself with her bony arms to keep what little warmth she had. The only thing that concealed her from the harsh cold of the city was her tattered, pale gown that she had worn like a terrible dress a mother would force upon their daughter. Flimsy, it was; nonetheless, it was better than merely her skin against the bitter winds.

Her auburn hair, streaked with honey blonde, hung in greasy curtains over agonizingly thin and pale face, that was dotted with freckles upon the nose and cheekbones. Her light blue eyes were keen with the instinct for survival; and her ears perked high in alertness. The fear of being dragged back to the pale hell by the faceless pale men weighed heavily in her mind and blazed within her heart. Each night she would descend into a world of dreams that were amalgamated with blurs of colours and terrible, terrible cries - no shapes formed from the clouds of the dreamscape, only the colours and cries incomprehensible to the sane. She was not sane - madness would be a label to easily describe said woman, and a label she was accustomed to.

For years within the pale hell crimson would seep from her and haunting cries would echo through her mind. Streams of a watery blue would rip down her face and screams would vacate her mouth. It drove her mad and it left her with scars - both of the visible and invisible variety. When she was young she would hold a friendly yellow to her breast that smelt of musk as if it were kept within an ancient attic. For the longest time, the yellow was her only source of companionship, until the pale men stole it away from her, and exchanged it for pale and crimson, and countless tears. Too many tears for a child to bear.

She was not the only one in the pale hell. There were many others. Others who suffered from claws of crimson. Some she knew, and some she did not. She remembered the slender, milk white one topped with a short black and blessed with sparkling orbs of green and a fantismal ability to make her feel happy and warm, no matter terrible the pale world would seem. There was also the dark chocolate one who had orbs of a childish grey and a silent manner about him, as if he could not speak, as if he was broken; but his orbs told worlds and the curvature of contentment told everything. There was also the one with a lanky gold and gleeful orbs of violet, whose energy seemed boundless and whispers were like stepping into an otherly world.

She cherished each of the three, especially the one who held green orbs and the power of delight. She would always cherish each time they sat together in laughter, each time the four of them would lay back in the otherworldly whispers of the one of gold, each time she would cry into her breast. She cherished them like they were a treasure from an ancient land that proved to be unique beyond measure. Solemnly, the treasured memories did not last for long enough. The were all taken one by one, shadowed into pale and never to be heard from again. How the streams of blue came down when she could not seem them again. How crimson seeped from her paleness, regardless of the pale men.

This transcended for years. Countless weeks of imprisonment in oneself, numberless days of crimson, incalculable moments of a pain that burrowed through her like a bullet of silver through a grotesque beast of the inky night. That is what they treated her as: a monster - and they drove silver into her to dig crimson like a hunter would with its captured beast.

After cycles and sequences of crimson and silver, she was visited by one of the pale men prior to sleep. A pale man who had a clear air of hunger about him, regardless being void from any facial expression. He looked down upon her and he slummed closer and closer to her. She tried to scurry from him like a little rat being chased by a carnivorous cat; but like most rats, she was cornered and the cat pounced upon her. The air of hungry began to choke her and the pale man seized her by the wrists, and he deflowered her rose of innocence, and upon that day the pain flared up inside of her and it began to fester within her from thereon, like an infected wound. Then the streams of blue arrested and a silence shrouded her. Each strike of silver that tore through her from that point on felt like nothing in contrast to what the pale man had done to her. She was broken like an unfaithful mirror and tarnished like a rusted clock.

Then, beyond all hope, flickering orange and bursting red ate through the pale hell, and the pale men perished, including the deflowerer. Especially him. You see, she saw him, with her light blue orbs, wither and wail in the tongues of orange and red, and a weight seemed to be lifted from her chest. Nevertheless, the pale hell was fall all around her as if the world was ending, and she thought death would take her by the hand and lead her astray; instead she was taken by a figure of darkness and shadows and she was taken to the place of dark looming towers and biting cold, a place that seemed empty to most, but to her it was freedom to her, an otherly world the one of gold would whisper within her ear.

For the past few days she strode, and she saw tall figures of black, who seemed absorbed within themselves, paying little attention to the girl. She did not know whether she should attempt to converse with them, for they could possibly be shrouded pale men. Pale men disguised in darkness. So she scurried to the alleyway where she scavenged on the rotten scraps like a vulture in search for food, and she ran like a fox escaping the hunt. A hunt she thought had existed.

She gazed and peered out of the alleyway to see the figures of black walk across the streets, to and fro, seemingly busy with themselves, unaware of the pale woman.