Friday, August 31, 2018

boardwalk

may 3 2008
May 3 2008
Now that I think about it, I don’t think that there’s been a time where I haven’t seen him during takeoff. He’s usually standing somewhere on the tarmac, so very out of place. And there he was yet again. He was following me to Noah. As soon as I felt the wheels of the plane leave the runway, this latent panic attack that had been creeping up on me, festering inside me like an inflamed appendix burst open. Half of me was committed to helping Noah, and the other half was screaming to run down the fuselage, unlatch the door, and just jump. Too easy. I was at war with myself, questioning if I should even be on that plane to Florida at all the whole flight. There wasn’t much turbulence, but every jarring tremor I prayed that the plane would just fall out of the sky and decide my fate for me. I threw up twice. Stepping out of the taxi to see Noah’s front doors once again, I was still overwhelmed with indecision. I had all this time to think, but the ever accumulating mass of internal distress had turned me to procrastination. I was just about to enter his damn house and I didn’t have a solid plan of action. Behind me, I felt that all too familiar sour sensation, like reality itself was rippling from a metaphysical stone toss nearby. He was already here. I took a deep breath, rang the doorbell, and opted to play things by ear. I felt that maybe hanging with my cousin like we used to in the good old days might clear my head. Should have known better at this point. Seeing Noah again was both a wonderful and gut wrenching experience, especially since he was so happy to see me. He pulled out a newly bought video camera and it felt like he had just drawn a gun at me. Could he have been seeing him already? No way I was going to interrogate him right then and there. Something instantly felt off as soon as I step foot inside this house. It was
may 3 2008
exactly like that funny feeling you get in the back of your throat right before you get sick, that same foreboding feeling. But it was walking down the hallway when I realized that I felt Mr. Slim within his house, like right beyond the walls. I tried my damndest to act like a normal human being, but knowing that he was only meters away from us had me drowning in anxiety. I’m convinced he was at least a room away from us the entire day. I already can’t wait to leave. I got settled in and we played some Paper Mario and watched Aladdin like when we were children, an eternity ago now. My thoughts were still as conflicted as ever. The Ouija board told me to show him, I’m assuming it was referring to Mr. Slim, but who knows who the hell this Firebrand spirit is? Just because he knew my favorite song doesn’t mean I should trust him. I kept trying to formulate some kind of strategy to segue our conversation into what I had traveled across the country to relay, but I was really at a loss. At least Noah’s presence managed to calm me enough to be able to enjoy myself, despite my mind being helplessly stuck in a death spiral of thought loops and the fact that a goddamn reality monster was observing us through the walls like rats in a maze. Noah had mentioned wanting to show me that park near his home since construction on that boardwalk had been completed last year. As much as I was frightened from all those visions of that damn Victor Park place, I had this morbid curiosity to visit it. If the powers that be have been showing it to me for a reason, might as well find out why. And when I saw the bastard himself peek out from the doorway at us, I was more than happy to leave that fucking house for a while. Noah let me fiddle with his camera
may 3 2008
as he drove, it was way nicer than mine was. Then an idea hit me. Since Slim is uncomfortably close now that we’re hanging out, if I’m able to catch him on camera and then show Noah… maybe I can wake him up again? Worth a shot. Plus, then I’ll have footage to show Garner. Two birds with one stone. And, since he hates having his picture taken, if anything I can shoo that fucker away, if only temporarily. It’s a win win. After lunch we stopped at the boardwalk and walked into the path between the walls of trees. As beautiful as it was, it was deeply unsettling walking around a place that haunted my nightmares years before it was even erected. Every step inward was accented with a hint of deja vu, and as we trekked further down the pathway, I was dismayed to realize that the place had the same exact threatening aura that Noah’s house had. The whole time I had this feeling of being followed, though no one was ever behind us. I felt it particularly strongly at the top of the boardwalk tower, and when I spotted his lanky silhouette poke out from amongst the trees and move toward us, the very same vision from one of my childhood dreams, I panicked and ran down. When I got a hold of myself, I tried to brush it off by recounting some classic anecdotes from years past. Reaching the end of the boardwalk, it felt so oddly quiet. There were some other people fishing at the pier, so I figured that maybe Slim retreated for now. But it was far too placid. Something wasn’t right. Sure enough, as we were walking back to the parking lot, the hair on the back of my neck shot up as I felt his presence return… but this time it felt like a tidal wave approaching from behind us, and fast. I lost my cool again and booked it back to the car. The sensation subsided
may 3 2008
once I reached the parking lot, but I collapsed to my knees in terror, completely consumed by just how much I felt affected by it. I only experienced that degree of impending doom once before, but it was from the safety of one of those boardwalk dreams. In real life, it proved to be so much more alarming. It felt that if we didn’t leave there at that exact moment, the trees themselves would come to life and spring downward, shutting on us like a snare trap… which is exactly what happened to me in the dream. I still have no idea why that damn place has any significance or why it has been so incessantly advertised to me in my sleep like a goddamn timeshare from hell, but there’s no doubt that there’s some kind of potent energy that envelopes it. The trip back home was awkward and silent. I had really confused Noah at this point, and I was in no shape to even begin to lie to him coherently about why I had spazzed out and ran off on him multiple times, so I saved face and kept up the act of aloofly pretending that everything was fine. But it really wasn’t. I kicked myself for not just taking the camera from Noah and filming Mr. Slim when I saw him. I won’t let that opportunity pass by again. I may have other chances to snag his image while I’m still here, in fact, I’m counting on it. As I write this entry, I can see him in my mind’s eye. He’s scoping us out like packages of meat at the butcher counter. But I’m scoping him right back. He’s not escaping the viewfinder this time.
*all of milo’s actions make complete sense now given the context of what he was experiencing, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept now that he’s gone.