A Journey Into the Unknown (Book Excerpt)
A Journey into the Unknown (book excerpt)
chapter 6 going down
Those days I fell in love with every girl that looked at me. Lord knows I was so desperate, so lonely, but too bad.
Whoever said kingship was all about red wine, concubines and entertainment? Sometimes a king would even see his thrown as a burden, of course sometimes he would come to his senses later on and realise all he needed was a chill pill. And most times he would probably end up having one too many.
I wasn’t just king of this non-existent kingdom, I was the servant, the slaves, the cleaners and every other labourer was a paid professional. I had built the thrown, but I never proclaimed myself king. It wasn’t just a security measure, it was uncertainty, uncertainty that I would fall as I always did, uncertainty that I wouldn’t live up to my own expectations, expectations that were now even almost too high to be achieved. I was king of thieves in a kingdom that was, not so much of a pimp’s paradise, but maybe an addict’s haven. Things only appeared as though they were fine. In fact everything was falling apart and after a while, all efforts went towards putting things back together. By the time I was back on my feet I knew there would be something waiting to knock me down again. A cycle I had been trained for day after day after day for years, and yet it would still come as a shock every single time. A cycle The Bastard would refer to as life, in other words, hell. To me I had already lost the battle on earth, and bore deeper and deeper for the roots of evil hence when I moved up in the game, I was really going down, hell bound.
I tried to make sense of my nightmares, but it turned out most of them were reality. The other day I had a dream about something, which I couldn’t remember the minute I got up, as was usually the case. Then as I got up, a form on the couch beside me seemed to raise its head as well, as if having fallen asleep. It looked like a beast or a monster or both; it was in fact a demon. It slowly faded away as I came more conscious. I quickly turned my face to the right and there I saw a white mist as if there was another form there but this time a white form, maybe an angel. Of course, I was moved but by now to me anything was possible, I was scared to death but I didn’t say a thing. I was getting used to things being out of order and weird as hell.
Crime for me became more and more abstruse, the one word that could properly describe the character I had acquired over the years. It wasn’t just going against the grain anymore; it was going against everything that was normal, everything that was the usual thing to do, turning my back on the world and a real society and pursuing everything unusual, like taking the dark road searching for peace when normally one would expect to find peace in the bright surroundings, sunny blue skies and all that crap that makes people love the summer holidays. One wouldn’t expect anything more than a mugging or stabbing walking through a dark alley way at night alone with no protection in unfamiliar neighbourhoods, but this had become routine for me. Fear wasn’t completely absent; instead I had grown more used to and accepted the feeling. Fear had kept me on the right track most of the time and even kept me away from danger. As the bastard would say, “keep a stab rare by the fear”.
Only the brave go to war, soldiers ready to die for their country, consider me not a patriot. Aside from the fact that I was of a mixed background so I never really knew where I was from, I hated politics. To me politicians were just, regardless of what they said, out to better themselves and themselves only. To me politics was just another business venture and very much like show business, make believe. The whole economic system was in fact based on crime, crime which had been polished off and given a civilised appearance and name. Every single potential presidential candidate would campaign, saying the same old things he or she would do and then get elected and never do them. People would complain, once again, and then go out again to get deceived and vote at the next election. If one ever asked a politician a question, one could never expect a straight answer but instead a bundle of technical terms jumbled together in a way that the majority of the masses would never understand but if it sounded right then it was acceptable and it always sounds right. Everyone, regardless of what they say or said is out to get the best they can for themselves, how much more politicians, why should they be any different.
A question The Bastard would always ask was what was done with the evidence after a big drug seizure? Surely it wasn’t destroyed. Who in their right minds would believe that load of crap? What kind of self respecting, modern day man would dispose of hundreds of kilos of illegal substances in any other way than one that would generate the mass amounts of revenue which it