The day had begun, he watched it arrive pink then orange, then sat in wonder at the creation of a red apple easing itself upon the land. The world yellowed and the moment had gone. He sighed then picked his bag up, and walked into the quiet city.
He found the remains of a pizza on top of a bin, he sniffed then drank half a bottle of water he found up against a wall. The ghosts would be coming out soon, there was one, pale and smoky, jogging past him. He knew he was invisible and on impulse gave the jogger his middle finger. There was not an itch of response.
The city had a big market, he remembered it from a different life, and he let his feet pick the course. A market was a good place. Occasionally he knew the ghosts sensed his presence, but at the market he was very invisible. Atop a hill he looked back from where he had walked up from the river. The city was washing it's face of all traces of night. Trams rattled, sparrows chattered and the murmur of the ghosts made one sound. Thrumm. Neither pleasant or disagreeable. It was all one, as it had been since a series of seizures had fused his thoughts and habits. He had a flash of a different life then, tried to hold it but it fleeted away. He turned to the market.
The Market got busier with every heart beat, more ghosts arrived with every breath. The Thrumm sound got louder, the banging of objects a bass line. The song of the Market gave him pleasure. He found a corner and sat down with the pigeons. He was watching for something. He thought it must be a someone, who might be able to take him home. He examined each ghost as it walked past, he thought he would know the one but it had been many weeks or months, he couldn't define time, was it years? The ghosts passed and did not look at him, he gave the middle finger to some of them. He pulled a bottle from his bag and began to drink, then to sing. Some of the ghosts turned to him then but not to catch his eye. He sang deeply and sadly, he was in harmony with the song of the market. He sang and waited for the one to take him home.
The market went in reverse, and got quieter, the ghosts glided home and their song became a whisper. The one he was looking for did not come and he was very drunk. He staggered to the place where he could see the sun set. In the morning, he found himself where the red apple rose and the day began again. He found some pizza and half a bottle of water and wandered up to the market.
There came a day, a week later, or was it a month later? The apple rose and fell to a shorter beat was all he knew, and on that day, there was a disturbance at the market. A great swath of ghosts were chanting, and waving placards, ghosts on horses weaved into them and knocked them over. There was great anger, great fear and blood was being spilt. He sang to it, angry too, then excited, had the One come? He stepped out of the shadows and the pigeons, waving and stomping, shouting a song. The ghosts were pell-mell, and many were hurt. They were being herded and carted away. As he sang and danced he felt their eyes start to see him, and his own eyes cleared too, he could see the people, their cloths coloured and their eyes gleamed. The people. He danced harder and waved his bottle around, stomping, with each movement the dream world he had been living in peeled away. He dropped his bottle and it smashed at his feet. Police heads turned to him, "Take him away!" Shouted a muscled leader of the police, was he the One? It was a final thought as his dream self. His mind cleared fully, back to the man he once was and ironically he realised that the policeman was the One, and that he had been marked by the sergeant as a subversive part of society. Many strong men descended on him and crushed him into the ground. One was sitting on his chest.
"No!" He attempted to shout, but the air had been forced from his lungs. "I am back! I have been gone to the dream lands but I am back and you can see me..." That was just a thought, he could not speak and as his heart gave out, he wondered if he would go back to the dream lands or to something else.
