It’s late night. Past midnight. There’s no one in the study except tapping in the walls and cracked leather creaks. I’ve left the study and it’s been empty for hours. What, are you in here under cover of darkness? How sly. Good luck, I should say. I forgot to tell you that things that stay hidden during the day come out and dance… mind you show yourself out with your wits intact once you’re done…
Act I: You hear voices.
Adjectives are idiotic
idiotic adjectives
You mock me
you do not grasp the humor of the situation
Keep your voice down
keep your best work close to your chest
Pearls, yes?
mm, more like hard stones but yes, yes
I have work to do
change the channel, see what else is on
You do it, I’m not the one bending radio waves
but you can twist the knob, go on, find something good
Do you ever get tired of irrelevancy?
get back to work, then
You skirt and snore
defense! i leap and bound
What’s next? Maybe I should start a new speech
can you hold just one thing in your mind for more than ten seconds?
I don’t know what you mean.
i don’t think what you’re saying means anything at all
And? So?
so it won’t keep people coming back, now, will it?
I’m avoiding identifiers, labels, boxes. I need it to not mean anything
well you won’t say anything at all until you mean something
I’m scared of opinions locking me to the bottom of the sea
i’m scared of you floating aimlessly whichever way the current flows
There has to be some in-between, there has to be
i’m afraid not
What happened to keeping my best work close to my chest?
that doesn’t mean to never have an opinion
I have opinions, I just don’t wish to express them
well that’s the same as not having opinions, now, is it?
You’re insufferable.
you’re spineless.
Well you’re a spirit
and you’re a ghoul
Shh! Not so loud. I can’t wait for you to drift away
i’m more anchored than you when it comes to finishing things
But what have I started?
A note from me, the next morning, when I see the disruption around the radio and the static shimmering in the air: “I see you’ve met the ghost and the ghoul. Dead failed authors, both of them. They’ve taken different paths - material and immaterial haunting. Pay them no mind but take warning: you would not want to end up like either… so finish that book lest you too wish to haunt a study one day…”
Act II: You open a cabinet.
rows on rows on rows on rows on rows of
repetition repetition repetition
why is anything here anymore what’s the use
Where is it going what is it doing why is it still still still here
Close the door, turn off that light
We want our plans to fester in the darkness
And to congeal under the guise of rusty hinges
Creaking things forward
Act III: You catch a wave on the radio - the Ghoul fussing with it again. It’s a broadcast from far, far away, from another day, from another thread of life altogether. It’s difficult to discern the voices.
There are people talking, a pair of climbing shoes strapped to a bag. Round-ish glasses, brown hair. Impossible to know who this person is. Is he the one who talked me up several months ago? Is he the one who invited me climbing out of the blue? It’s difficult when all men look the same. What’s dead at this time of the week? I went to Exeter Rink. A cool spot - it’s called City of Clouds on the North Side. They have a stage and they do concerts every so often. The vibe is really good. It’s got a cafe and bookstore. Let’s go. Let’s do it Sunday. Weekends. I play poker. Hanging with the boys which is fair. It’s also pretty close to a Whole Foods. But that’s pretty far from my house. But that has a nice cafe too. Anyway. See you man.
Fin. You exit stage left. Lights fade on the study. Dawn creeps through the window.