JayKillbam

“The Portrait”

rating: 0+x

“You coming?!” Russel shouted at me, his voice nearly getting lost over the blaring house music as it traveled down the stairs and into my ears.

“Yeah!” I responded as the metal door behind me closed, slowly filtering out the higher frequencies.

The door slid snuggly shut as the last bits of the electric synths faded out, leaving behind only the persistent, dull, thump of the bass drum. I looked up at Russel as he hurried up the stairs and disappeared behind the curtain at the top.

I was not as quick as my younger friend, Russel. He had invited me out tonight to let loose and get a few things off my mind. Most notably the fact that the girl I was in love with had just moved away to Nashville with her new fling. We had been an off and on thing for years at this point, with no real progression made either way by either party. So, it was only a matter of time before one of us pulled the plug on our unique “friendship”. I just wish I had been the one to fire first.

I reached the top of the worn stairs, the pounding of the music below vibrated the floor like a foot massager. I threw back the moth-holed curtain to find many scattered beanbags and mattresses. In almost every rest-spot, one or two individuals lay unmoving and silent. The only active persons were myself, Russel, and the man with whom Russel was talking to. He was of about our age, maybe a bit older, with large glasses that unapologetically said “nerd, but party-chic”. I made my way over to them, passing no less than twelve lifeless bodies, each strewn upon their chosen nest.

“Ahh, Jack, so nice of you to finally join us.” Russel jabbed.

“Fuck you Rus.” I reeled as I slapped the back of my friend.

“So, what is this?” I queried, looking around at the resting masses.

Russel’s new friend looked at me from a space far behind his spectacles. “This my friend, is Art.” He turned to the dilapidated and unkempt area. He looked as though a king, soaking in the vastness of his kingdom.

“This is Axel.” Said Russel. “He’s one of those underground artists you hear about every now and then on the news, doing weird shit like burning money or leaving people in odd trances.”

“Hold on there, pal. I’m not the artist of this particular exhibition, merely a ‘curator’…” He paused for a moment, as if to regret using that word. “The ‘Art’ itself comes from an old friend of mine.” From his pocket he procured a small plastic bag with sheets of perforated paper inside.

“What’s this guy’s name?” I asked, looking at the small parcel.

“He has many names, but I affectionately call him, ‘Mr. Moon’” Axel stated, speaking with air of pause and mystery, waving the bag with each gesture. “He has showed me many things, things that are not of this world, things that exist after you leave your mortality behind. A world beyond this…”

“And I suppose that is gonna take us there?” I pointed at the bag and half-mocked as Russel nervously chuckled.

“No my friend, this… this is something new.” Axel retorted. He made a presentation of the bag to Russel and I, and continued “This won’t take you anywhere, it will take you… anywhen.”