Love, in Madness.
Dedicated to Adam Harker, the biggest Apollo I know.
A scent from a stranger brought back hurt, it was love gained and lost and remembered such was loves cruel cycle. It was as though Apollo had her again between his lips, he remembered her eyes staring at him with every look she ever gave. Lust, distain, anger and wonder, he had disappointed and pleased but every memory was cherished with caramelised nostalgia. She was gone in an instant, vanishing like mist into the trees.
His old loves number was still written on a postcard he could never throw away, it was all he had left off her. Digits that brought back her face, then thatsmell. He flipped the card between his fingers wondering if the number would work. He doubted that she would be on the other line but there was a linger of hope that purged through his subconscious, willing him to believe that impossibilities could turn into something real, that hope was something to thrive towards, that faith had meaning.
His fingers potted on the raised numbers on an old telephone, aiming for a zero like a bulls-eye, never connecting, his nerves circling no different than wire that held the receiver to the phone.
As he spoke his voice dissipated, croaking out a well meant hello that fumbled into a distant echo. The girl on the other end wasn’t her. It wasn’t Castalia.
“She’s dead.” The little girl said, her voice unpronounced and hard to articulate.
“I’m sorry, Castalia died? How? What? Are you parents there?”
A tumble and knock was heard.
“Hello?” a voice, female and mature spoke eloquently over the line.
“Yes, hello. Is it true? Has Castalia died? I’m sorry. I’m just an old friend.”
“Oh God, not again. She keeps telling anyone who picks up the phone that whoever they are looking for is dead. She isn’t! She hasn’t lived here for a few years.”
“Christ. Well can you tell me where I can find her?”
“You will have to follow the clues.”
“What clues? What do you me-“Apollo blinked and quickly found himself outside back in the woods running, the receiver still in his hand. There was a reason why his legs were working so hard but he couldn’t understand why. Rain began to pour, filling the inside of his shoes with puddles of water, his socks held onto every drop that entered. Apollo felt his feet becoming ever more soar but he kept running, he knew that a destination was soon, even if he wasn’t sure where.
The rain settled leaving a fading rainbow over the forest, looking back it became a sketch, the greens and browns fading leaving nothing but outlines, outlines that morphed into something else, a familiar painting of lovers kissing; of Apollo and Castalia. Words floated from her mouth, silently in form of a speech bubble Apollo, you’re here”, feeling a grip in his hand he squeezed back only to hold the telephone receiver finally dropping it, he was unsure why he was so reluctant to let it go.
Apollo found himself in darkness. His eyes forcing themselves to keep shut. He couldn’t think of clues, he doubted if there were any at all. Prying an eye to see the daylight ahead of him he saw a brigade of hot air balloons stretching out in to the sun. The sky full blue and clear making the balloons look like artificial clouds floating against nature. One by one each plummeted out of the sky leaving nothing but the amber ball of flames hanging in an abyss. Below his feet was a wicker basket riding with another passenger, an old man, seemingly fully grey, from his hair, dress and skin. “I never understood the point of clues personally. They’re always meant to lead you somewhere, but how do you know if what you’re following is correct? It would be typical for the world to think that we’re all following the right ones. But what if somewhere there was this one man who just wanted to follow his own interpretations of the clues just because he had faith? Would that be wrong? Kids nowadays. They just don’t want to have faith anymore.” The grey man said leaping from the basket gliding down to the earth as though he was being cradled by an invisible hand.
“How the fuck would I know which one I’m doing, old man?”
“If it doesn’t feel like anyone approves and feels right then that’s the one you go for. Can’t help you with anything else I’m afraid, bye Apollo!” he said has he drifted to the land below.
“Hold on! How do you know my name!?”
“Just look at the clues!”
Perplexed, Apollo sat and gazed at the grey man, watching him turn to nothing, not having much to lose he perched onto the rim of the basket. If he was looking for clues then this was the only one he had. Taking a leap Apollo plummeted to the Earth, his body acting as a dead weight rushing to find the ground. As the valleys of below approached he saw a woman with long golden hair watching him fall, her arms reached for him, taking a hold before he had even reached below, softly guiding him to the landing.
“Clues are just a poor man’s expression of knowing what feels right.”
“I jumped.”
“You had faith I’d catch you.”
“I had no idea what would happen, I just knew I couldn’t stay. My only hope had fallen 5000 feet.”
“Apollo, you’re here.”
Apollo struggled and turned while a nurse held him straight.
“Apollo, you’re here.”
He muttered abuse and cursed at the nurse with long blonde hair.
“Follow the clues Apollo.”
The nurse held up cards of pleasant scenes. Balloon rides, ink blots, forests, and rainbows.
“Just have faith, he gets better.”
Castalia asked of Apollo’s family, growing impatient as he began to bite the golden locked Castalia.
“Apollo, you’re here.”
Drool fell down his cheeks as the doctors injected Apollo with tranquilizer. Bubbles of snot popped as they leaked through his nose. Looking in to the distance he could see Castalia patiently holding out her arms guiding him back to reality. Tied and restrained he drifted back into his slumber and reached for her there. Bringing back the smell of a love he’s loved and lost so many times and forgotten every time he awakes.
A scent from a stranger brought back hurt, it was love gained and lost and remembered such was loves cruel cycle. It was as though Apollo had her again between his lips, he remembered her eyes staring at him with every look she ever gave. Lust, distain, anger and wonder, he had disappointed and pleased but every memory was cherished with caramelised nostalgia. She was gone in an instant, vanishing like mist into the trees.
His old loves number was still written on a postcard he could never throw away, it was all he had left off her. Digits that brought back her face, then thatsmell. He flipped the card between his fingers wondering if the number would work. He doubted that she would be on the other line but there was a linger of hope that purged through his subconscious, willing him to believe that impossibilities could turn into something real, that hope was something to thrive towards, that faith had meaning.
His fingers potted on the raised numbers on an old telephone, aiming for a zero like a bulls-eye, never connecting, his nerves circling no different than wire that held the receiver to the phone.
As he spoke his voice dissipated, croaking out a well meant hello that fumbled into a distant echo. The girl on the other end wasn’t her. It wasn’t Castalia.
“She’s dead.” The little girl said, her voice unpronounced and hard to articulate.
“I’m sorry, Castalia died? How? What? Are you parents there?”
A tumble and knock was heard.
“Hello?” a voice, female and mature spoke eloquently over the line.
“Yes, hello. Is it true? Has Castalia died? I’m sorry. I’m just an old friend.”
“Oh God, not again. She keeps telling anyone who picks up the phone that whoever they are looking for is dead. She isn’t! She hasn’t lived here for a few years.”
“Christ. Well can you tell me where I can find her?”
“You will have to follow the clues.”
“What clues? What do you me-“Apollo blinked and quickly found himself outside back in the woods running, the receiver still in his hand. There was a reason why his legs were working so hard but he couldn’t understand why. Rain began to pour, filling the inside of his shoes with puddles of water, his socks held onto every drop that entered. Apollo felt his feet becoming ever more soar but he kept running, he knew that a destination was soon, even if he wasn’t sure where.
The rain settled leaving a fading rainbow over the forest, looking back it became a sketch, the greens and browns fading leaving nothing but outlines, outlines that morphed into something else, a familiar painting of lovers kissing; of Apollo and Castalia. Words floated from her mouth, silently in form of a speech bubble Apollo, you’re here”, feeling a grip in his hand he squeezed back only to hold the telephone receiver finally dropping it, he was unsure why he was so reluctant to let it go.
Apollo found himself in darkness. His eyes forcing themselves to keep shut. He couldn’t think of clues, he doubted if there were any at all. Prying an eye to see the daylight ahead of him he saw a brigade of hot air balloons stretching out in to the sun. The sky full blue and clear making the balloons look like artificial clouds floating against nature. One by one each plummeted out of the sky leaving nothing but the amber ball of flames hanging in an abyss. Below his feet was a wicker basket riding with another passenger, an old man, seemingly fully grey, from his hair, dress and skin. “I never understood the point of clues personally. They’re always meant to lead you somewhere, but how do you know if what you’re following is correct? It would be typical for the world to think that we’re all following the right ones. But what if somewhere there was this one man who just wanted to follow his own interpretations of the clues just because he had faith? Would that be wrong? Kids nowadays. They just don’t want to have faith anymore.” The grey man said leaping from the basket gliding down to the earth as though he was being cradled by an invisible hand.
“How the fuck would I know which one I’m doing, old man?”
“If it doesn’t feel like anyone approves and feels right then that’s the one you go for. Can’t help you with anything else I’m afraid, bye Apollo!” he said has he drifted to the land below.
“Hold on! How do you know my name!?”
“Just look at the clues!”
Perplexed, Apollo sat and gazed at the grey man, watching him turn to nothing, not having much to lose he perched onto the rim of the basket. If he was looking for clues then this was the only one he had. Taking a leap Apollo plummeted to the Earth, his body acting as a dead weight rushing to find the ground. As the valleys of below approached he saw a woman with long golden hair watching him fall, her arms reached for him, taking a hold before he had even reached below, softly guiding him to the landing.
“Clues are just a poor man’s expression of knowing what feels right.”
“I jumped.”
“You had faith I’d catch you.”
“I had no idea what would happen, I just knew I couldn’t stay. My only hope had fallen 5000 feet.”
“Apollo, you’re here.”
Apollo struggled and turned while a nurse held him straight.
“Apollo, you’re here.”
He muttered abuse and cursed at the nurse with long blonde hair.
“Follow the clues Apollo.”
The nurse held up cards of pleasant scenes. Balloon rides, ink blots, forests, and rainbows.
“Just have faith, he gets better.”
Castalia asked of Apollo’s family, growing impatient as he began to bite the golden locked Castalia.
“Apollo, you’re here.”
Drool fell down his cheeks as the doctors injected Apollo with tranquilizer. Bubbles of snot popped as they leaked through his nose. Looking in to the distance he could see Castalia patiently holding out her arms guiding him back to reality. Tied and restrained he drifted back into his slumber and reached for her there. Bringing back the smell of a love he’s loved and lost so many times and forgotten every time he awakes.
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