Sub Conquror

Peekaboo

The smell of black soil, like real coal, can be very frustrating. Ajax never knew that, the last time he smelt any soil, maybe it was the time when he got knocked out while learning to ride bicycle. That was a long time ago, so he wouldn’t care either.

He slowly opened his eyes, in the crowd of smell. It was fully dark. He waited for the adjustment. Human body is quite tricky, it can adjust one to any kinds of situation, yet can lose against every little odds for the poor decisions.

His eyes adjusted to the dark, yet so nothing. He knew, the most important and believable of the five senses had let him down.

He tried the others. The ears, the nose, nothing. Maybe there was somewhat of a gargling sound down, but he couldn’t say more. He took a pinch of soil, and put it in the mouth. It tasted usual, like soil. What does the soil taste like? Like sand? Like some very small irritants bursting out the tongue? Yes, similar, but the irritants were wet and refreshing. He couldn’t gulp them down his throat, yet he liked to keep them in his mouth.

He tried to remember where he was, who he was. Yes, he remembered. Ajax Relish, in his 19s, nearly, short of two months. He lived with his family, he liked that.

He last remembered himself in the bathroom. He was taking his pills before sleeping. Was this a dream? Maybe, or not. He wasn’t a guy having dream every night. He had dreams some night, he couldn’t disagree. But they were not this type of absurd.

He slowly tried to get up. The pain wasn’t too much, yet he was vulnerable to any minor pain, since the bicycle failure. He couldn’t convince himself that pain was just some physical setbacks in life. He portrayed the pain as a monster, rolling down in his cupboard. He succeeded in leaving every fear from his childhood, except the pain.

He touched his right knee. It felt like bruises. Maybe it was like the map of Nevada. His grandfather taught him this, to portray any bruises as a map in the country. He remembered Nevada. He visited there once, alone. It was maybe last month. The foods there was quite above average. But that was not all in Nevada. The real thing was the dogs. The stray dogs were a part of attraction there. He remembered counting a bunch of them, running in the neighborhood, mostly owned by the punks. Yet they tried to live up the most humane behavior as they could. It was funny, seeing abandoned dogs trying to be human to compensate for the sinners.

He moved his hands around, to get a support in standing. He found a wall, a big one. He couldn’t reach or see the upper edge. But the mossy outer side was enough to help him get up. The wet walls was like mountains, the ones with a huge waterfall. Was it Niagara? Maybe, he couldn’t plan on dreaming things. Dreams are beyond one's controls, and the night dreams? They are out of control like cancer.

He had no plan staying in this dark for so long. He needed to get out of here, he badly needed. He looked around. The darkness was quite dim after a while. Yet he couldn’t see clear. It was time to play blind.

He slowly put his hands on the walls, and slowly moved to the right side, keeping his feet close to the ground. The wall was beyond reach. But he couldn’t quit without trying. He kept his feet and hands too much cautious. He had to. He didn’t know where the edge was, both for the wall and the ground.

Suddenly he found a small edge to the wall, it was far right. He slowly climbed to the edge. Maybe it was a mountain, not the Niagara, but something else. The gargling sound became loud to him. He measured the way with his feet, sideways. It was wide enough to walk, of course while being cautious. He started walking.

He tried to observe the place, with his other senses. The smell of black soil was gone, the new smell was rather more refreshing. It felt like a relief in hell.

He felt no panic in himself. He was so sure that this never could be real. This never shouldn’t be real, for some reasons. He had a hard time, with his family, in his college. Hard times are a sheer indication for bad dreams. That's all.

He came across a big shape shadowy figure. It wasn’t moving, so he could assume that it was some rocks from the mountain. He slowly approached to it. He carefully touched it with his bare hands. It was more mossy, more wet, and full of small holes. But he was familiar with this spongy touch. It was a tree.

He could say it without even looking at it. The fragrance was all, the touch was all. Ajax used to roam around the trees every time. Nature was his playground. It should be always, for everyone.

He sat beside it. When was the last time he was sitting under a tree? He could remember the day, it was raining.

It wasn’t suppose to rain that day, Ajax was sure. He saw the weather forecast that day. It was grandpa's birthday. He was happy, maybe the happiest he could be in his entire life.

His backyard had a tree, a sugar maple tree, quite a gigantic one. He used to measure himself with that. The tree would grow faster, he would have to mark himself from the start. His father loved that tree.

That day, he was playing beside the tree. His mother came into the backyard.

He saw her, 'Mom, when are we gonna go to grandpa's?'

She was happy about going, 'Soon, Ajax. I even prepared the picnic basket.'

He was curious, 'What are the lunches?'

She frowned, 'Not until grandpa reveals them, okay?'

He nodded. It was for the birthday boy to open up the surprises.

He shouted, 'Dad, you home?'

His father came from inside, 'Yes Ajax, I am here.'

He looked into his eyes, 'Dad, can we play just once?'

She was confused, 'What play? Were you guys planning on playing anything?'

He looked at his father, 'Yes, he lost a bet.'

She was quite angry, 'I thought I told you not to bet anymore.'

He apologized, 'I know, mom. And I am sorry. But I knew I was gonna win this time. Dad said today will be rainy day. I said the opposite. And you can see who won.'

She looked at his father, 'Well, you messed this up, so let's fulfill the bet.'

She looked at him, 'What do you wanna play?'

He replied, 'Peekaboo!'

She sighed, 'Oh well, there is still time to spare. Maybe one round should be enough, right, Richard?'

His father nodded, 'Whatever to repay the debt.'

She kneeled down to him, 'Okay Ajax, you are gonna go behind the maple tree, sit there, and loudly yell Peekaboo for fifty times. No mistake, okay, honey?'

He nodded, of course he wouldn’t make any mistake.

He ran behind the tree, slowly sat on the soft grass, started to yell Peekaboo.

He felt a rush in him. He needed to find them as a success. He never lost in this game.

But that day, he lost, lost for real. He ran towards the home as soon as he finished counting. It was nearly evening.

He looked everywhere. The bathroom, the rooms, under the sofa, even inside the washing machine.

He couldn’t figure out.

He looked for two hours. He yelled for them, pleaded them to come. All he could hear was himself pleading.

He yelled for a long time, 'Dad, I am tired, it’s late. We should go, please, come out. Hey mom, please, I am starving. Let's go, please.'

But he couldn’t here anything, at all. He was standing, beside the tree. He couldn’t figure out what was happening.

Suddenly, it started to rain. It was heavy, heavier than his yelling. He could feel the raindrops piercing himself.

He yelled again, 'Dad, you were right. I lost the bet. Please now, please come out. See how it’s raining.'

He cried a lot, heavily, with the rain. He knew somehow, that no one is coming out. Yet he yelled, he cried.

He realized, he wasn’t beside his backyard. He was in the dark place, beside a tree. He realized, all the memories about a piece of s**t maple tree took him to his own memory manhole.

He touched the tree again. It surely had a fair resemblance to that tree, in touch to be exact. He was just waiting to this shitty dream to end.

It started raining. He could feel a little drizzle over his whole body. The rain was the redemption for him, maybe it was time for his redemption, maybe.

He stood up, maybe it was not too late for anything. Maybe it was his chance to be with everything, yet with nothing. He didn’t know what he was thinking, but he could care less. He stood up, and started to walk.

But consequences had another thing planned for him. It started with the very familiar black soil. He slipped on the wet, muddy soil. He tripped, lost balance. He went to a redemption he never thought of.

He slipped of that level. He felt an eternity, while he was in the free fall. It was the total summary of his cherished moments, yet it vanished away in second. The next thing he knew, he was struggling in water, deep water.

That was when he saw those eyes, those sinful angry eyes, looking at him from the shore far ahead. The wyes were glowing, he could see the owner of the eyes.

It was a crippled, large, filthy dog, portraying its anger in eyes to him.