The Permutation

Breakthrough (Part 16) Paul

Friday, November 4th 11:30 a.m.

    Time passed in agonizing increments. Paul mused at the cruelty of the passing of time, whenever you wanted something or were excited, time seemed to slow down and delay gratification as long as humanly possible. Whereas the moments worth living, passed by in brief and intense bursts, leaving the recipient pseudo-satisfied and wanting more. A sense of enjoyment was fleeting, slipping through eager hands like dust on the wind. People plodded along like the horse with the carrot eager for their next unfulfilling fix not realizing their life was passing them by while they waited instead of enjoying the moment at hand. The only alternative is to make nothing matter and to attach no significance to individual events. That's what Paul did until that fateful evening. Time was either too short, his date with Cade, or too long, waiting for his date with Diego.

    Paul's mother turned in early. That may have had something to do with some allergy medicine being crushed up and slipped into her cream of wheat and brown sugar. Paul waited in front of the television anticipation mounting. His leg would've been tapping violently if it were able.

    The only thing keeping him from enjoying the brisk, night air was the Jeach. He knew it was still waiting for him to make a mistake. All Paul needed was his time with Diego, and he would be able to handle anything. He'd feel Diego's soul leave this plane of existence, and Paul would swell with power, another one of his oppressors banished from his realm. Tonight was the night Paul would assert himself, making sure The Beings, the Jeach, and Diego Sandoval all would know that you don't mess with Paul Neiman.

Not anymore.

    Throughout the day, Paul's lack of sleep started to wear on his mind. When the television wasn't blaring, Paul swore he could hear laughter drifting on the wind. He turned up the TV louder. He drifted in and out of consciousness, but it was far from rest. His lapses took him to a faraway place that he only ever traveled to in dreams. The South Hills.

The laughter was louder here. Trees surrounded him on all sides, the scent of pine was cloying, and his heavy panting breathes weren't bringing enough oxygen to his lungs. Laughter danced between the trees, hidden by an interminable fog. He saw a fleeting glimpse of blonde hair in the distance vanish behind a copse of trees and headed towards it. She brought him here. She always brought him here. Paul followed her deeper into the woods. She would help him; she said she loved him. She never laughed at him. Something tickled in the back of Paul's mind. Deja-vu like he'd been here before, but that was silly. He hated the woods.

Laughter hemmed him in. It cavorted around him on all sides but one. Paul stumbled forward, registering somewhere that a blister the size of a golf ball had just popped, but it was too late to turn back. The laughter wouldn't let him.

Her voice drifted through the fog, "Just a little bit farther Paul."

He could make it a little bit farther, anything for her. Another smell added itself to the mix, gasoline. Paul catalogued that as an artifact of campers that had been here previously. That had nothing to do with him.

Paul stepped on something. It closed around him like a glove and lifted him into the air. He still didn't understand what was happening as the hemp dug into his flesh, leaving irregular diamond imprints in the folds of his fat. The smell of gasoline was much stronger here, and the laughter was right on top of him. Another laugh had joined the choir, and it was as beautiful as it was cold. He'd heard that laugh before, but never with that undertone of cruelty.

Three wraiths materialized from the mist. Wraiths he recognized. He knew them from another life, a life where he hadn't transcended, a life where he was the butt of all jokes. The last form to arrive from the mist wasn't a wraith, she was a Siren, pulled from legend to lure Paul to his doom. Her sweet song promised Paul love, and somehow she knew that was all he wanted. Paul realized how foolish he'd been to think anyone could love him.