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Kajun / Blog

Exodus

He awoke in his accustomed fashion for the last time

Disheveled, stained denim and long hair clung to his sweat-soaked frame as he peeled himself from the damp, sheetless mattress

The sheetless mattress that sat on the carpetless floor in the small, unventilated room with only one grime-encrusted window staining the sunlight as it passed through

The same small room that had been sanctuary and prison all the days of his life, until now

A small clock erroneously flashed “12:00” near the far corner of the room, its silent warning unheeded

He took one tenuous step then another to the door - Treading over stray clothes, stuffed animals, used condoms, cigarette butts, broken toys, triumphs, defeats, exultations, and despairs in the two strides that completed the journey of egress from his room Spanning his life’s accomplishments with little more notice than he’d paid them when they were relevant and new

He paused briefly at the door to yawn

Resuming his course, the sickly-sucking sound of his feet meeting and leaving the vinyl flooring fought to be heard over the ringing that perpetually permeated his hearing as he made his way down the narrow hall

Finally he came to the kitchen, normally a raucous arena ringing with hurled barbs and insults that today was deafening only in its silence

A silence broken only gently and intermittently by a stray droplet of water escaping from the ever-leaking faucet or a drop of the sticky red miasma falling from the cluttered tabletop to mingle with its kin in the puddle on the floor

Through this sticky red pool he tread, taking care not to jostle either of his parents who sat at the table in awkward, askew, yet silent repose

He reached down and righted a chair that had been overturned, bracing his hand on the wall in the exact spot as a bloody handprint then absently brushed the gore off on the thigh of his spattered jeans before taking his seat

In silence they sat. He smiled occasionally as he looked from his father to mother and back again, noting the way their eyes were locked on each other, lost in each others’ gaze the way fairy tale lovers do

Finally he rose from the table, turned to his mother and kissed her gently on the top of her head, the hair of her thrift store wig matted in blood over the concave skull left his lips stained crimson as he did so

He then turned towards his father and patted him firmly on the shoulder, feeling the jagged edges of bones in the neck, shoulder, and ribs grind together under the impact as a few stray hairs of his comb-over swayed gently like reeds in a spring breeze

Without hesitation the then made his way to the door and opened it, feeling the morning sun bathing his body and baking the flecks of blood that covered his form into tiny rubies

A gory raiment of glory

He paused for a moment, basking in his newfound freedom

He smelled the dew mingling with the scent of wildflowers and his own filth

He felt the gentle wind as it drew up goosebumps that cracked his blood-canvassed body art

Then he began walking, making his way into the wilderness of the world, passing animals who cast baleful stares at him; their distain so blatant it bore an acrid taste

They all knew he was no longer a creature of this world

He was man

And on he walks…