Picture a world where taste is sacrificed for nourishment. A time of light and dark, but no dusk or dawn. What tales of lunacy would such a place inspire?
Sit in the passenger seat next to me now, as I guide our vehicle through the labyrinths and blocked off motorways. Look in the rear view mirror; you’ll see the sign for the time and place we have just entered. The FryLite Zone.
Here’s a tale regarding a lonely twisted man, who was given a chance of redemption. Unfortunately he was given it in:
The FryLite Zone
Alone together.
I was born into money, and have lived within it’s grand design ever since. There has never been a time when I felt the need to want, it was always just expected and as a result occurred. You may feel that this was a luxury. I fear your chagrin but in reality you know little regarding opulence. When nothing has been truthfully accrued then what appears is always never truly respected. If this offends your misjudged and misguided sensibilities, then accept this awful truth; my people will always be in control of yours, and we do more often than not, get what we want. That is we are until the final chapter. I know that now. But it's too late for me. Alas it was not too late on that night, for on that night, for whatever reason I was given a chance.
The evening started as they always had. Alone. Not one for others I dined alone and bathed in the luxury of solitude, garnered in the knowledge of acknowledged superiority. Why require others? It was only as I lay my head upon the sumptuous pillows plumped upon my bedstead and turned the table lamp out that I realised someone was in the bed next to me. I smelt his sweat, felt his shape and as I turned staring into the darkness of the bedroom saw his vague outline. This silhouette with its spindling whiskers and unkempt hair shuddered then said these three words. Words I would spend the next thirty years fearing. "No More Life...NO MORE LIFE!!!!!!" a gnarled hand stretched out from under the blankets reaching for my face. Terrified, I pulled the blankets over my eyes. Clutching the fabric I begged that whatever I had been adjacent to “Be gone!” Please, oh Lord in Heaven make it be gone. Please let it be a piece of undigested turnip playing tricks on my maladaptive mind.
Truth is I know what I saw and experienced and knew that it was sent as a warning. I should never leave the house. I would die if I did. With this foretelling I spent the next thirty years in my room. Maids and butlers paid from Ma and Pa's money allowed me to exist. I knew that I would never allow the treacherous spirit, which had invaded my space to claim my right to life on this blue and green Marble.
I woke this morning and saw a butterfly. It flew around the room and landed on the flowers I insist remain. It lit the room as powerful as any man made light and just before it expanded it's wings to their majestic breadth it hit the window, nailed closed by my orders, and died. I realised. I understood. I had never known the joy of love. I had never known the disappointment of loss. The room grew darker. I had never known curiosity. I had never known how it felt to be truly satiated. The room was pitch black. I had never known life. I turned in the bed, my beard and unkempt hair scratching the pillow. I saw the young man in bed next to me. I realised I only had seconds. Looking at my younger self I begged of him to "know more life, know more life!" and stretched a kind hand out to stroke my/his cheek. My younger self pulled the covers over his/my head. My wings hit the window.
