Liminal - Extract One
Prologue
That night the nightmares troubled me again. In my sleepy haze the buzzing sound of current zapped through and around the fibres of my skin. Pulses of beeping sounds and sparks of light engulfed me. My heart melted with dread overflowing with boiling, crimson blood. I could feel the piercing of needles into my arm’s crevice, plunging chemicals through my bloodstream.
From the distance yonder, two unblinking daggers of light pursued me. I am not meant to be here.
Through those lights, I could see gloved hands wrapping their fingers over my eyes and mouth suffocating me. Helplessly, I scattered my breaths before my orifices were blockaded and my lungs were beating with fear.
Suddenly, the captivity of my held breath was released and I slung my head up from the pillow. My torso pulled itself up like it had puppet strings attached to it. Except, I had to crack my puppet limbs and puppet spine back into place.
I caught my frantic breath and slowed it down. With deep breaths, I tried soothing the emotional storm I’d been in. Yet, my eyes were still watery from the event.
Scanning my peripherals, all that I could make out were white dull yet breathing walls. In my dizziness, everything seemed to spin and dance. Then, pause. Still and boring.
Four white walls. As captivating as a padded cell. Silently, I lay still in my box like Schrodinger’s cat. Invisible.
What if there was more to today?
The thought terrified me. But then, it was that buzzing sensation that called for my attention to get up and out. The potency of being alive today came with more of a kick than before. This morning, in my entranced flurry of perception, I was ready.
Awake. Sleeping. In the middle? Liminal.
Almost in response to my realisation, sunlight snuck it’s way into my room through the slip of my curtain. Beckoning me. Reaching through the window. Scattering sparkles over the eroding apartment complex. I sat up to take a closer look.
City
That morning, I confidently peeled back the curtains to unveil the crowd of buildings eager to greet me. Bathing in the rays of sunlight that were caught and reflected outwards dissipating in streams of colour. Silver plated prisms that each seemed to grow and cultivate day by day. Strips of metropolis each divided by beds of water that attracted birds to furcate in parades.
Our urban sprawl was sweetly glazed in iridescent lights like a christmas tree. It had become a monumental hotspot for attraction- One big advertisement, magnetising agriculture like flies to a lantern. A world of busy I looked down upon, only to see ants working away with individual tasks, agendas and responsibilities for their colonies. Smart black waistcoats, briefcases and mobile phones.
Up above, was the infinity of cosmos unexplored, sectioned from us with thick flowing clouds and smog flowing freely in floral patterns. Brush strokes of organic, smooth textured foaming bubbles of soap and pillowy marshmallows. A bouncy scape of comfort and serenity.
Caught up in my intense fantasy, it dawned upon me that I was missing something…
Company.
I’d forgotten today's motive was to meet up with Michael. It all felt so meaningless in the grand scheme of things. But I snapped back out of it. I was going to get there today. Even if it hurt.
Looking down at my phone, It read.
‘I’m outside’
Michael was always very brief and straight to the point. It was in every aspect of his demeanour- sometimes it came across as rude: other times easy to comprehend.
It was his idea to lead me to the mall this time, usually it’s me with the ambition to go and do something like that. Nonetheless I got everything to go. Pulled the door open.
Leaving the room through the door was exhilarating. Instantaneously, all my problems felt resolved. Even as my feet skirted across the dirty floor texture. Which reminded me of the poor-kept flooring you would find in a hospital. It was dusty, unhygienic and sticky.
The continuous pale corridors melted into an endless passageway, crossing my feet over a beigey tousling carpet. Wallpaper waved around peeling itself apart in a sick plea for attention. A dated light bar above my head droned the whirring sound of council maintenance.
It was a pain traversing down our shoddy, endless stairway. Spiralling down circles upon circles, thinking timeless thoughts, ruminating about my life. I always detested living in the now- always looking for an escape. Reposefully, accepting the story written for me.
Michael stood at the main door in a huff. Despite the sun being so buoyant and the birds’ choiring. I daren’t ask if he’s ok though. I’ve learnt as much over ten years.
Everyone seemed to have something to do today. The streets were littered with people, traffic and commotion. I looked through the glass panes to my left to see countless people in suits and ties overlooking documents on their computers. Then to my right, a smokers group congregating underneath a lime green tree. Puffs of smoke billowing upwards into the shrubbery of the willow, and my lungs. Smelling the musky cigarette tar was enough to kick out a cough from me.
I shrugged back my shoulders and grew to face the stirring crowd of life. Fixed into their roles in shops, café’s, business enterprises, and creative innovations. All blankly faced, rhythmically treading along the city streets, which were simulated in long rows like a program.
Michael’s long, curling brunette hair, glossed with sweat, flowed through the wind as he walked unevenly, weaving through the crowd, grasping his frail bony fingers tightly around his cigarette. His basic, blue denim jeans hung to his skin, tight underneath the fashionable silk shirt. Long sleeved, expensive looking.
With a visible skull that pressed into his pale thinned out skin. Sunken eye holes carved into him with blue eyes that were greyed by sorrow and solitude. Decorated in freckles that brought back a childish charm to what had become of him.
Streets echoed with comradery and yet we were so lonesome at times. Like those spending ten hours a day in their stuffy offices crunching numbers for the bigger man. With the same question. What am I doing with my life?
It was all too normal for us to stay quiet walking. Michael wasn’t the talking type, tensely scouring around, ready for something to jump out. Cowardly I stick close, a worrisome bundle of hassle tied in millions of knots.
All until we paused, I turned first as I saw the café. It beckoned the both of us with a fluorescent olive green sign that read, ‘Le milieu café.’
Ambiance, comfort and the scent of good coffee permeated my soul. Outside, were warm metal pub chairs with matching green aesthetic umbrella poles. Saucers and teapots, older men and women taking in the calmness of it all.
“We could stay here?” He proposed.
This caused me to bounce back surprised like an excited puppy.
“Sure!”
We were snuggly entrapped, like fish to bait. It was entrancing. Michael meandered towards the till while I was tasked to find a table for us. On the onset the parlour appeared as any outlet serving coffee in the City. Except, crossing from the queue my eyes were met and enchanted by a pine-green grand hall of chairs, tables and art dimly illuminated by candles and the sparkles from overhanging chandeliers.
Gazing around, the area seemed familiar. The ceiling and floor seemed to meld together like interwoven fabric. Walls around me were draped in olive-green curtains. In my seat alone, I felt microscopic.
Michael ordered some beer at the till, I bought some Earl Grey - like a true British would. We sat right in the corner - a booth of privacy to enjoy each other's company. With Michael, I didn’t feel so microscopic anymore. Families of tables and chairs were planted in an array. Quite a diverse flood of people were plotted opposite to us in their pacts eating madeleines, croissants and talking
Whilst watching, I found myself enveloped in a proustian reminiscence. Stumbling back into Paris, 2019- a holiday I couldn't forget. Maids that would cater to the most delicious of brunches, deserts. Lakeside walks through valleys of bramble and heather. Ancient villages that looked straight out of a fairytale. And best of all, outside café parlours in the city square. Rife with cheery faces and soothing spirit.
The same sort of old faces were now staring callously back at me. I didn't mean to intrude upon them.. Looking away from their ratty expressions and beady eyes, I felt guilty and ashamed.
Le Milieu’s comfiness came from its homely persona. Nostalgic vintage lampshade lights hung above each table, cushioned colourful sofas that you could stay in for hours. Dark chocolate walls that framed authentic French artwork. Each with a different story, different styles: they all depicted one café though- all of them had the Le milieu café centrepiece in a surreal, dreamy artstyle. A frustrated abstraction.
Letting my dead feet stretch out underneath the table, anchored me to the floor. Sipping down my tea, then adding milk, mesmerised me. Watching the infinite descending spiral fall into the drink as the colours intertwine into a hazy oak. Letting the natural plant polyphenol flavour swirl into my mouth. Holding the porcelain teacup cautiously with two fingers.
Interrupting my special process, Michael brought out a spurring glass bottle of booze in front of me. My eyes locked onto the target. I followed after the bottle bringing its wheaty sweetness into my mouth and guzzling. Surprise, surprise, It always had to go there.
What a shame to ruin this friendly family feeling with alcohol. Michael and I always did drink - It always seemed to bring out Michaels character. Me? I just flowed with it
Drink after drink - I could see us from others’ eyes drinking, laughing, fooling around. The parts of me that parented the rest were away - watching me - but from everyone else's perspective, bound away from my fun. Come to think about it, a strong sense of dissociation cut its way through the whole of that morning, before I had even drank. Being here drunk took down the ruse of normality that took over. Things just weren't as they seemed.
Surely enough, people started leaving - we crashed it. Sun set. Shifts stopped.
Oblivious to the fact everyone was out and gone, while we were on Instagram.
A sudden sleepiness hit me strongly, without a chance in hell of fighting it.
Wooden tiles pooled and sank into fluid liquid patterns. Tiny waves emitted from underneath my feet. A step forwards from the chair and I would fall into the mess.
Our room rotated slowly diagonally leaving me completely unbalanced. I mean it was absurd.. The paintings were all black, my body locked in place trying ever so desperately to get up. My limbs seemed to be struggling to keep up with where they were intended to be.
Laying back into my chair, low sombre piano notes from the speakers streamed into my head. Purifying the anxieties and strifes to warm camomile and sweet cinnamon serenity.
We were left alone.