By Jay Nystrom
The arid
dust swirled and settled with each labored footfall, in the distance a
shimmering veil promised nothing more then heat and asphalt. The sun hung large
in the summer sky seemingly taking up the entire realm of heaven, its rays relentless
in their efforts to ignite the world. Sydney Crowson covered his face with his
arm and glanced up to see buzzards circling lazily on thermals, ever patiently
waiting for some poor creature to succumb to the desert. Sydney unscrewed the
top of his canteen and tipped it back, not even a single drop fell to his
tongue, he shook his head and remembered that it had only been a few minutes
since he last tried to drink. His mind felt clouded and it was hard to focus on
anything, his thoughts drifted back and forth between the past and the present.
He
remembered fondly the cheering fans, the packed stadiums building excitement
until he stepped on the stage to an eruption of emotions. It was a feeling that
couldn’t be matched anywhere else in life, thousands of people willing to pay
big money to cram into tiny plastic seats just to listen to the wail of your
guitar and the sound of your voice. Sydney stumbled on a rut in the ground
snapping his focus back to his present troubles, he cursed the ground and
called out obscenities so vulgar that sailors would cover their ears in shock.
Sydney’s heart jumped in his chest as a coyote crossed the road in front of
him, it seemed to come from out of nowhere, it stopped and looked in his
direction. The coyote followed the road towards the sun, it was then that
Sydney noticed that the sun was lower in the sky and he hoped it would set soon
although the cold of night would prove just as challenging as the heat of day.
The bottom
edge of the sun touched the horizon, in the distance a small wave formed at the
visible end of the road. Sydney squinted hard at the wave as it grew bigger and
bigger, a tidal wave of fire was bearing down on him. He turned to run, as
hopeless as that was, what little energy he had left was mustered to move his
bone weary legs. His muscles burned in protest to the physical exertion but he
couldn’t stop now, he was running for his life. The wave caught him easily, he
was slammed to the ground by the weight and his skin began to scald. The skin
went quickly but with much pain and soon his writhing muscles melted away but
in some unholy happenstance he was still alive to feel it. The fire made short
work of his bones and then the world went black.
Sydney awoke
with a start, a cold sweat covered his body and his heart did its best
impression of Houdini trying to escape the confines of his chest. The sun was
high above him so not a single shadow could be found as shelter from the heat.
He stood wearily and with great effort, the nightmare started to fade from his
mind and he was glad to forget it. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his
arm and it was quickly replaced with more, with heavy heart and heavier feet he
began to walk.
The arid dust swirled and settled with each
labored footfall, in the distance a shimmering veil promised nothing more then
heat and asphalt. The sun hung large in the summer sky seemingly taking up the
entire realm of heaven, its rays relentless in their efforts to ignite the world.
Sydney Crowson covered his face with his arm and glanced up to see buzzards
circling lazily on thermals, ever patiently waiting for some poor creature to
succumb to the desert. Sydney unscrewed the top of his canteen and tipped it
back, not even a single drop fell to his tongue, he shook his head and
remembered that it had only been a few minutes since he last tried to drink.
His mind felt clouded and it was hard to focus on anything, his thoughts
drifted back and forth between the past and the present.
He
remembered warm-heartedly the chaos of the backstage after shows, dozens of
girls in various states of undress flooding the dressing room shared with the
members of his band. There was never a shortage of alcohol or cocaine when they
traveled, every single hedonistic desire was filled on a near daily basis and
the lifestyle was just as addictive as any form of booze or drugs. But out of
everything Sydney most enjoyed the groupies, young women so very eager to
surrender their bodies to you and he gladly indulged them. He of course had
heard stories of such things while growing up but it was something completely
different when it was experienced first hand, the days on the tour bus spent in
drug and alcohol induced comas and the nights filled with rocking and sex.
Sydney
tripped on a divot in the asphalt falling to one knee on the rough ground
scraping his knee. He looked down at the skin that had torn open and had to
pick small pebbles from his flesh while the blood seeped from the wound, it was
deep and in the desert it was most likely a death sentence. He tore a strip of
his shirt off and wrapped it tight around his leg above the wound, his hands
shakily tying the makeshift tourniquet was made a harder task by the blood that
covered his hands. After he was satisfied with the effort he trotted onwards
towards the horizon, the blood loss caused his head to feel light.
After what
felt like miles Sydney looked back despite promises made to himself to never do
such a thing, a long trail of blood was left in the road, an impossible amount
from one man he thought to himself. The coyote darted from behind a cactus and
began lapping the blood from the pavement only pausing once to look at Sydney
standing in the road. Sydney averted his eyes from such a ghastly scene only to
find that the road ahead of him was filled with dozens of buzzards waiting
impatiently. Their ugly wrinkled faces stared straight at him expectantly and
he knew there was no way he could outrun them, Sydney took the strap of the
canteen and wrapped it securely around his hand. He took a few futile swings at
the birds but they simply hopped back from his reach, it was then that his
gashed knee gave out and he fell to the ground. The buzzards slowly moved in
for the kill, they didn’t need to rush because they all knew that this was an
easy kill. The birds pecked savagely at the wound, Sydney screamed in horror as
the buzzards moved up to his stomach. Entrails spilled to the street but not
once did he lose consciousness as the pink faces flooded his vision, it would
be the last thing he would see but not the last thing he would feel. Then the
world went black.
Sydney woke
up slowly and knew that when he opened his eyes they would be met with the
blazing sun and an inhospitable desert. He laid in the road and could feel the
asphalt burning at his exposed skin, he drifted in and out of sleep but no
dreams or nightmares found him. After awhile he sat up cross legged in the
road, the sun hung high casting no shadows once again. It had taken this long
for Sydney to realize what was going on, this endless cycle of his death. His
mind drifted back to that fateful August night when the whiskey and coke fueled
bender destroyed his mind and after four days on a hospital bed in a medically
induced coma it destroyed his body as well. It was all so clear to him now,
when he opened his eyes the desert began to lose the browns and tans that
colored it. The pigments washed slowly away like a painting in reverse, they
revealed the deep reds and fiery landscape of his true surroundings.
A deep
chuckle echoed in his skull, the coyote wandered towards him without speed. The
creature started to grow larger as it drew closer, the red of it’s fur turning
to a scaly hide. The face flattened and ears were replaced by the curled horns
of a ram, the skin fell in clumps as it stood on it’s hind legs.
The full
vision was soon revealed as the Devil himself stood before Sydney. The naked
muscled body heaved with deep breaths, the behooved feet clopped on the ground,
and between the horns sat a mighty burning crown. “Sydney Crowson, son of
Charles Crowson and Margaret Smith, welcome to the final resting spot of your
immortal soul. When you first came to me at your darkest hour you knew what
fate would befall you, a deal with the Devil in exchange for fame. In the end
it wasn’t worth it, I see it in your heart you regret your actions. I’ll let
you in on a little secret my son, it’s never worth it, never has a deal been in
favor of man. At least you enjoyed your life Sydney for there is no God and no
Heaven, all just things I’ve created for the fun of it. You can’t imagine the
joy I feel when those holier then thou assholes find their fate in my kingdom
of death. Fare thee well Mr. Crowson, enjoy your stay.”
The
bellowing laughter continued as the Devil shrank down and once again the coyote
walked away, in it’s wake the colors of the desert sprang back to life and the
sun took its place high in the sky. Sydney Crowson’s vision wavered and the
world went black. He woke with a start and struggled to his feet, his body
protesting his every move. The buzzards circled high in the sky and with little
choice left Sydney began to walk.
The
arid dust swirled and settled with each labored footfall, in the distance a
shimmering veil promised nothing more then heat and asphalt.
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