Post by sersi on Jun 17, 2013 21:35:32 GMT -8
prologue
In the right light, Ashley suddenly decided, the hotel room she had booked wouldn't be so bad. It was a small thing, the room, about half the size of a rich woman's closet holding only an uncomfortable bed, an uneven nightstand, (contents: One Gideon's Bible showing incredible age despite not having been read once since its original abandonment in this temple of all things un-bibley decades ago), and a lamp that hummed and sputtered when flicked on in a way that reminded Ashe of drowning. This was the kind of room rented by the hour and used in half that time (if lucky, or at least determined), although by the stains on the walls and bed sheets Ashley estimated merely a third, on average. She shared the room with three ghosts - a John killed by a whore, a Whore killed by her pimp, and a Pimp poisoned by a John filled with dreams of luring his exotic love away with promises of freedom and methamphetamine, (Ashe had been told their first 3 years of being forced to share this room had been quite awkward), constantly bickering in hollow, distant voices and becoming the faded translucent blue of an old lo-def television image in the light of Ashley's laptop screens. In the distance she heard the rapid "drip-drip-drip" of a leaky faucet spilling into a porcelain sink. Her room had no bathroom, and this sound disturbed her much more than the ghosts.
The "right light", she concluded, would be if this room burnt to the ground.
A roach crawled across a stained window, the small amount of illumination offered by Chicago's abundance of light pollution now casting alien and monstrous shadows across the room. Her attention briefly drifted to the flickering shadows of antennae and watched them jump and dance in the half light. This means something, she thought - some sort of primordial morse code or smoke signal. She could feel her consciousness beginning to bubble to the surface from under a thick sea of hallucinogens - I should be home soon, the other Ashe thought. Anna may be home soon, it rationalized as the id fought to keep control.
On one of her laptops a chess game played out - she had scripted the moves days before, the outcome of the game not nearly as important as the patterns of the pieces battle. Her opponent thought she had trapped herself and was moving in for the kill. On her other screen fractals traced out ancient diagrams and the true names of spirits, demons, and the occasional pizza delivery boy. Behind her The Whore tried to strangle The Pimp, and Ashe nodded. As her phone began to vibrate she felt herself surface, breaking through the ice of unreality to the surreal chill of reality, and at that brief moment at the threshold of both she understood. She smiled to herself, fingers dancing across both keyboards instinctually, press enter and the command line is sent before she was even fully awake. Behind her the voices of spirits fade into oblivion, the only wisdom they had imparted being that Hell truly is other people.
Her phone told her she had ten minutes left with the room, possibly an hour before Anna got home, and that she had 3 missed calls. One laptop told her that a young boy from Wilkes-Barre, PA was fairly terrible at Chess, but that didn't matter yet. The other told her that tomorrow someone was going to have a very bad day, and she frowned slightly as she closed it, folding it into her case before turning her attention back to the game. Eight minutes. She sighed and typed out a quick message to her opponent before making her last move.
"Do you know what the most important piece is in chess?"
Five minutes. She didn't wait for the answer, instead closing the notebook and putting it with the other, slinging it over her shoulder and sliding out the window. Down the hall she could hear a drunken man leading a woman pretending to be more drunk down the hall. He had talked her down to $35 for this rendezvous, but would end up paying her three times before passing out while she steals his watch and car keys. Ashe smiled to herself, sliding the window closed behind her and drawing a smiley face on the glass, her finger leaving a clear trail through the filth and dust.
Check.
In the right light, Ashley suddenly decided, the hotel room she had booked wouldn't be so bad. It was a small thing, the room, about half the size of a rich woman's closet holding only an uncomfortable bed, an uneven nightstand, (contents: One Gideon's Bible showing incredible age despite not having been read once since its original abandonment in this temple of all things un-bibley decades ago), and a lamp that hummed and sputtered when flicked on in a way that reminded Ashe of drowning. This was the kind of room rented by the hour and used in half that time (if lucky, or at least determined), although by the stains on the walls and bed sheets Ashley estimated merely a third, on average. She shared the room with three ghosts - a John killed by a whore, a Whore killed by her pimp, and a Pimp poisoned by a John filled with dreams of luring his exotic love away with promises of freedom and methamphetamine, (Ashe had been told their first 3 years of being forced to share this room had been quite awkward), constantly bickering in hollow, distant voices and becoming the faded translucent blue of an old lo-def television image in the light of Ashley's laptop screens. In the distance she heard the rapid "drip-drip-drip" of a leaky faucet spilling into a porcelain sink. Her room had no bathroom, and this sound disturbed her much more than the ghosts.
The "right light", she concluded, would be if this room burnt to the ground.
A roach crawled across a stained window, the small amount of illumination offered by Chicago's abundance of light pollution now casting alien and monstrous shadows across the room. Her attention briefly drifted to the flickering shadows of antennae and watched them jump and dance in the half light. This means something, she thought - some sort of primordial morse code or smoke signal. She could feel her consciousness beginning to bubble to the surface from under a thick sea of hallucinogens - I should be home soon, the other Ashe thought. Anna may be home soon, it rationalized as the id fought to keep control.
On one of her laptops a chess game played out - she had scripted the moves days before, the outcome of the game not nearly as important as the patterns of the pieces battle. Her opponent thought she had trapped herself and was moving in for the kill. On her other screen fractals traced out ancient diagrams and the true names of spirits, demons, and the occasional pizza delivery boy. Behind her The Whore tried to strangle The Pimp, and Ashe nodded. As her phone began to vibrate she felt herself surface, breaking through the ice of unreality to the surreal chill of reality, and at that brief moment at the threshold of both she understood. She smiled to herself, fingers dancing across both keyboards instinctually, press enter and the command line is sent before she was even fully awake. Behind her the voices of spirits fade into oblivion, the only wisdom they had imparted being that Hell truly is other people.
Her phone told her she had ten minutes left with the room, possibly an hour before Anna got home, and that she had 3 missed calls. One laptop told her that a young boy from Wilkes-Barre, PA was fairly terrible at Chess, but that didn't matter yet. The other told her that tomorrow someone was going to have a very bad day, and she frowned slightly as she closed it, folding it into her case before turning her attention back to the game. Eight minutes. She sighed and typed out a quick message to her opponent before making her last move.
"Do you know what the most important piece is in chess?"
Five minutes. She didn't wait for the answer, instead closing the notebook and putting it with the other, slinging it over her shoulder and sliding out the window. Down the hall she could hear a drunken man leading a woman pretending to be more drunk down the hall. He had talked her down to $35 for this rendezvous, but would end up paying her three times before passing out while she steals his watch and car keys. Ashe smiled to herself, sliding the window closed behind her and drawing a smiley face on the glass, her finger leaving a clear trail through the filth and dust.
Check.
