Short Story 1: The Last Days Are Nigh

The Last Days are Nigh


Yes, they are here dear brother.
they have arrived at last.
Journeyed through dark, fire, dirt
determined to meet us.
Yes, smile happily dear brother
The Last Days are Nigh

We must dress ourselves
the dance will be amazing
every man, woman, child
jyriating melodically in the harmony of species being

The Last Days are Nigh, brethren,
Come, come!

There was a man in my bedroom this morning. I don’t know who he is, but I feel he belongs. Though he woke me suddenly, from a coherent narrative dream of a life with no mysterious men and no fanciful appearances, I was never frightened. I suppose I stlll am not frightened, but there is a creeping throughout my person which feels akin to fright. Perhaps anxiety’s the word...

He woke me with a smile. Leaning over me, his arm still stretched out, his hand still lightly placed on my shoulder from where he had rocked me a-wake. I opened slowly to him staring at me, smiling the largest smile his face could possibly allow. His eyes, his face, all the image of pure jubilation, glee, yes even ecstasy. I found myself staring, bewildered, at a strange man in my bedroom, face alit with joy. Bewildered, not shocked, not alarmed, not even as much as surprised; no, just bewildered.

He had a trustworthy face. The type of face you find on a doctor, a philanthropist, a social activist, a successful relative. His smile fit his face too well, hugged it in a way that could only come from long use, and perhaps practice. His face muscles were chiseled for expressions of happiness; you felt like he smiled every second of his life.

He wore a suit. Black, clean, extremely well cared for, and it fit him in an honest way. It was the kind of suit that you expect a person to buy when its on sell; expensive, but bargained down due to a capitalist market based on the ‘now.’ One envies a person for this type of suit; not because of its probable initial cost, but because of the deal, because of the amount of money he saved one it. It was a well-cared for bargain suit he wore.

We stared at each other, his face not four feet from kissing me. He smiled, chuckled, stared, said, “Wake up, dear brother, the last days are nigh. We must rejoice.” My slow, monotonous blink must have alarmed him to my then inability for comprehension. He smiled, and moved towards the center of my room. Mysteriously, my room was now re-arranged; arranged the same, but the room seemed to have been flipped. Where a window was a wall now is, where a wall a window, where a desk a door and a door a desk. Intense sunlight pierced the room for the windowed wall; an obnoxiously intense sunlight. It would have certainly waken me in a matter of dream images from now, had not Mr. Smiley face. Out the window I saw only a white cloudless sky. Mr. Smiley face pulled away, walked around the room slowly, dusting off my (his) suit, smiling his jubilant smile on his doctorial face.

“They have arrived! They have traveled through dark, dirt, fire, and blood. Slowed by the weather of necessity, at times windy, at times artic, at times arid deserts of fate. But they have arrived on time. The last days are nigh dear brother, we must rejoice before it is too late.”

Every word was filled with so much happiness I nearly feel ill. Still I felt as if it pained him to speak, as if communication took him from his blissful thoughts. There was something he wanted to tell me; I could barely raise myself from my bed sheets, which seemed intent on holding me down, (as if I were a madmen, being held down by orderlies ready to give me the shot I needed to relax) let alone comprehend this (what must be) drugged induced speech of a stranger. I sat up only with an effort; I could only imagine that Mr. Smiley face thought my struggle melodramatic, and I resented the fact that he would misunderstand my serious attempt to sit up and address him properly. Never had I wanted to return to slumber so vehemently, never have I struggled against my natural, sleep demanding impulses to return to bed for another minute; all this after having been awakened by a strange, black suit wearing smiling madman of a philanthropist in my bedroom! It were as if I were drugged, with enough tranquilizer to lullaby rhinoceros to sleep.

I sat up fully finally, slightly out of breath. This is how things have gone, thus far this morning.

“Yes, yes. Awaken in the light of this new day, a close relative to the Last Days ahead,” he said, looking at the window, face a lit by the spotlight sun. The light blinded much of his face, yet I swear I can make out the doctoral smile. Who is this guy? What the hell is going on? Am I dreaming?

“Wh…who…who the…hell are you? What the… what, what are you doing in my room?” I saw myself saying, felt my self struggle to say it as if drugged and doped, but these words I never spoke. I stared in silence, trying to…trying to do something.

Smile, he pulls away from the window, slowly draws near the bed, his terrific black suit like a fly guy’s funeral outfit. Glides towards me in this topsy-turvy room of mine, my door where the floor were.

“The Last Days are Nigh

Yes, they are here dear brother.
they have arrived at last.
Journeyed through dark, fire, dirt
determined to meet us.
Yes, smile happily dear brother,
the Last Days are Nigh

We must dress ourselves to address
the dance, man dancing with destiny
every man, woman, child, prepared for the end
celebrating the finish in existent ecstasy.

The Last Days are Nigh, brethren,
Come, come!”

Ok. Yeah, yeah. I’m definitely dreaming. Weird, I’m conscious of myself dreaming…Wait, what the hell am I talking about? This guy is a fucking psycho! I need to figure out what the hell’s going on. What did I drink last night?

Mr. Smiley moves to my relocated closet, moves through my shabby New York wardrobe. “ You know, men dance differently in the last days. It as if truly knowing nothingness and death, one begins to truly know being and life. Yes, men dance naked, no masks, no lies. Pure natural human passion, swaying to the throb of existence. And oh, the moves the ladies will be bringing out. Yes! Arise brother! Dress yourself! Ha, ha!”

He pulls out a black shirt I got from eBay. Throws it at my lap on the bed. “Watch it, buddy! I don’t like to iron anymore than I have to. You cant go around slinging people’s ironed ebay shirts around.” Again, not a word came out. He starts in on my slacks; brings out the only pair of black slacks I own. I hate the color black, anyway. I refuse to buy black clothing. What? Stop!! What the hell is you’re problem!? A strange man, who you did not invite in your home (or did I) is going through your clothes, has already re-arranged your room, and now is trying to force you to get dressed in black clothes, and all you can think about is your distastes for black clothing? Wake up, man, you are seriously dreaming…

He throws the slacks at me. Takes a seat on my dresser, smiling, as if waiting for me to get dressed. “Things will be different now, dear brother. You’ll see. Nothing will be the same. The last days are nigh. The world to come will be marvelous and majestic. Never will we come down from the high of this dance. Ecstasy eternal, dear brother. Yes the last days are nigh.”

Somehow, my hands grabbed hold of the shirt, began unbuttoning the top buttons, began placing the shirt over my head and on to my upper torso.
Somehow my hands re-button the shirt, up the midsection and on the sleeves. What am I doing? “Who are you!!? Get the hell out of my room!! What the hell have you drugged me with!?” Nothing. Not a word, though I felt myself say this, I saw myself say this. Nothing, though.

I move to the side of the bed, start to roll the pants up my legs. “Yes, smile happily dear brother. Its all over. We are in the last days. We will dance on a hill, hand and hand with the end. I can’t wait. Dress yourself, quickly! Ha, ha!” I button up the pants, tuck the shirt in as best I can in my current position. Ah well, if it’s a dream, it’s a dream. Nothing I can do about that. Go with the flow, right? Besides, I can’t even control my own actions at this point. He throws me my belt. As I wrap it around my waist, shoes and socks are passed to me.

What’s this guy’s story? I’m coming to understand there’s some dance we’re going to. Something about last days? Last days? Sounds like…like death. Or the end of something. I am dying? Am I dead? No, no such thing as an after-life, so I’m not dead. Dying, then. I’m dying. No, I’m out of it. This is just a bad dream. Is it? Happiest nightmare I’ve ever had, if that’s the case.

I stand up, socks, shoes, and belt all on, and walk to where the mirror now is. Mr. Smiley face, smiles at me, watching my every move with an unmoving grin. What a doctor, this guy! I adjust my shirt and pants in the mirror; I guess I notice that there is no world around me in the mirror. Just myself, fixing my attire in an infinite white space. I don’t really think I notice, though, or if I do I don’t seem to care. I’m going to die, and before I do I’m going to dance. I think I remember him talking about ladies.

‘Excellent. Let us rejoice. They have arrived. Through dirt and dark and fire, arrived. Come to strip us of masks, of roles, of self-deceptions. We will be ourselves now. We will live as never before in these the last days. Come, come, dear brother.”

Smiley face heads to the door. “Wh…whe…where are we going?” “Where? We are going to the hill. To dance.” “Wh…why are we dancing?” “That’s what you do in the last days. You dance, and rejoice.” “Wh..what do you mean by the last days?” “You know exactly what I mean. Its all over. Now come on. Our dance partners are waiting.” Wow, I’m actually having a conversation. Strange, though, as I don’t feel or see myself talking at all this time. “Our partners?” “Yes, are dance partners. They’ll be forced to wait if we don’t hurry. And we can not replace last days. They come and they go. We must be quick.” “What are our partners like?” “They are women and men stripped of pretense and illusion, naked and living like never before. Dancing every drop of energy out of their bodies. Come, come.”

Smiley face walks out my door, where my desk once was. I try to wrap my head around this dream, if that’s what it is. “Well,” I see myself say, “if these are the last days, there’s nothing I can do about it. Might as well dance. Can’t see myself living the last days any other way. That’s what you do in the last days, anyway. You dance and rejoice. Besides, there’s going to be naked women.” Hell, now that sounds like my type of dream. And out the door, and towards the last days, I followed the strange, smiling man who calls me brother.

Yes, they are here dear brother.
they have arrived at last.
Journeyed through dark, fire, dirt
determined to meet us.
Yes, smile happily dear brother.
The Last Days are Nigh.

We must dress ourselves to address
the dance, man dancing with destiny.
Every man, woman, child, prepared for the end,
celebrating the finish in existent ecstasy.

The Last Days are Nigh, brethren,
Come, come!
To thee I shall never lie.