My Cold City

Go down

My Cold City

Post by PiEdude on Tue Feb 08, 2011 10:02 pm

This is my city. I donít own it, I donít run it, but this city belongs to me. All the cold in the air, all the warmth in the hearts. All the stars in the sky and the moon that watches with them. Every flickering street lamp, every cracked window, every lost soul. Itís all mine. And I wouldnít trade it for the world.

As I walk these streets I find a million people with a million lives, and a billion stories to live through. Thereís plenty to see. Like a man lost in his thoughts and his liquor. Or another, younger man just trying to find his way back home. Of course there are the occasional lost pair of people trying to find love, or just the way back to each other. Donít look at me like that. Sure, I may have interfered a bit with one of those, but wouldnít you?

I look around. Itís late now. Thereís hardly a body on the sidewalk and rarely a car on the street. Everyone who can manage it is someplace warm, and everyone else is asleep. Not me though. Iím still here because I love the cold. Not so much the temperature, but the honesty of it. Cold is truth. It brings out who people really are, and what they can be. It holds down things like logic, and common sense, and forces people to feel their heart. To see their own souls.

I breathe out, but there's no miniature cloud of mist dancing before him. No fog of crystallized water droplets escaping my mouth and nose. I glance across the street to see a homeless man stumbling down the sidewalk, and odd determination to his every step. I envy him.

Seems like a good time for a cigarette. I pull one from my pocket and light it. The tobacco smell carries brilliantly through the still, chilled air. I inhale, but donít feel anything. Itís just a show. These things can kill, but not me. They canít even touch me. The smoke flies right into my lungs, and hover there a moment before being completely evacuated by my exhale. The smoke canít hurt me. Iím not even really here. Because Iím a figment of my own imagination, right?

I canít always help as much as Iíd like to. Limited influence. I do what I can of course; I just canít do a whole lot. Sometimes people are just too far away, physically or otherwise. Like a cop in her first (and as always, hopefully last) shootout in some distant gas station, or a ghost trapped in the remains of his own ravaged mind and spirit. Damn, doesnít that sound familiarÖ?

However, when I can help, I try to make it count. What I can do isnít always obvious. Usually, my help is mental. It can be as subtle as implanting an idea, or manipulating the surprisingly permeable to a drunken manís mind. It can even be as direct and physical as telling a young man that ďshe will have green eyesĒ. And itís always nice to see results.

Ultimately, what would I be if I didnít tend to the inhabitants of my humble city? Nothing good, I can tell you that. The temperature drops a bit, or at least it seems to. Every window I see is frosted over. Cold on the outside, but still warm on the other. I take another puff of the cigarette. It still doesnít do anything for me, but the smoke looks pretty damned cool, doesnít it? Oh, yes, and donít smoke kids, itís bad for your health.

I own this city. I own all you see. Its streets and its people. Its homes and its hearts. Itís all mine, and I take care of it. I watch over it. I protect it, and I guide it. I have it, and I hold it. Mine to keep, in sickness and in health, good times and bad. Till death do us part. But now Iím starting to sound like the Spirit. Just, pretend you never saw that movie.

Now, who am I, you ask? Well, wouldnít you like to know? Maybe Iím the Jazzman, the Scientist, Major Tom, Ironman, the Man Who Sold the World. Maybe Iím nobody. Hell, maybe Iím everybody. What if Iím God, or the devil? A guardian angel? A watchful demon? How about the Buddha? What about Kane? All or none of the above?

The truth is, Iíll have to get back to you on it. If I said I knew, I'd be lying.
avatar
PiEdude
Crimson Jester

Male Number of posts : 4572
Age : 25
Location : In the middle of a hollowed crust.
Registration date : 2008-03-24

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Back to top


 
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum