January Monthly Mix 24

Enjoy a short story and soundtrack by local music journalist and gripping fantasy author, Alex Kramer. Buckle up for a dive into… darkness… what’s underneath?

Maja’s Pollution: beginning

They’d looked at the light too long. No one should be able to stare into a bulb like that. Maja, you good? They didn’t blink but pulled their bloodshot eyes away, fixing them back to their roommate’s face. Yes, sorry, spaced out. They resumed their conversation about the house show that weekend. Multiple friends’ bands were on the bill. You’re coming to this one, yeah? Maja nodded. Sick. An old vampire movie flickered on their old TV. They watched in silence, both lost in their heads. I’m going to bed. Night. Maja said goodnight but stayed in the living room, focusing hard on the TV. Their eyelashes like bug’s legs ringing around two eyes. Sweat wetted their forehead from the effort, willing their face not to betray them. Their eyes flitted once to the lamp. A millisecond. A small hit. Maja licked their salty upper lip. It would keep happening. They knew it. They couldn’t stay up all night again. They closed their eyes, fumbled for the lamp, and pulled the cord. They turned off the TV. No light, no light, they chanted to the scattered void. The misty 1 a.m. darkness continued beating their mood to a pulp. It had been dark for eight hours already. But at least there would be sweat and blisters and music and hickeys soon. So soon.

Maja’s Pollution: 2

From what they could tell, the words were made of dandelion fuzz. Their eyes were getting worse. The pressure behind them made the earth wobble, ready to pop. Let their juices run like wine. Squinting, arms holding the book over their face at full extension as black poked holes through their retinas. Maja wanted to scream. They dropped the book on their face, subtle stings rising. Of course, they hadn’t seen it coming. Of course. They stared up at the bowed ceiling, pregnant from the room above. A weight out of wedlock. Maja’s baby, though they’d stopped visiting it weeks ago. The project wasn’t good for them, they knew that. But their mouth watered at the thought of seeing it again. They felt their phone buzzing underneath their left ass cheek. Questions screwing into their thigh — they wondered if the phone was really passing out cancer like Halloween candy. Or the Body of Christ. Amen. And fuck you. I’ll be blind soon. So soon.

Maja’s Pollution: C

They brought sunglasses. It felt like a bandaid on a brain laceration but maybe it would help. Or maybe they’d fall flat on their face. Wet bodies tried to crawl into each other all around Maja during the first act of the show. A few sour-looking musicians screamed on stage, as piss-drunk as their audience. [ROOMMATE] was being passed back and forth between two Goliathan women. Maja giggled to themselves, pleased they’d taken three pills before this. It would be unbearable otherwise. They swayed in the middle of the grass bodies, itching with makeup and dirt. The first band stopped but the mosh pit continued to writhe. Maja floated in. If they drowned, at least it wouldn’t be in only their sweat and spit. New band. The lights went out completely. It’s happened. I can’t see. No. Pink lights. Flashes. Patterns. Gesticulations. Sign language, just for Maja. They watched as shady pinks swept the shallow ceiling, brighter ones burping in the hazy condensation. They exhaled laughter, eyes bulging while witnessing their bubblegum kaleidoscope. Buzzing, buzzing. Lessons in color theory. They were beautiful. Let there be lights. A longing filled them. They missed it terribly. They ran out the door. They’d be with it soon. So soon.

Maja’s Pollution: fin

[ROOMMATE] called out into the dark house. Maja? No reply. But she heard something. A groaning coming from the ceiling. She was drunk enough to follow it, rising up the stairs on a humid breeze. She cleared the second floor, finding nothing of interest. The groaning got louder. There were only two doors on the third floor and the light leaking from under one gave away any would-be mystery. [ROOMMATE’S] mouth dried, anxious energy tickling her neck. But she continued. The door opened, no resistance. A blinding light exhaled through the open door, causing [ROOMMATE] to gasp and cry in unison. They stumbled back into the darker hallway, eyes dilating in strides. [ROOMMATE] squinted as they rounded the corner again. A faint figure began to form in the center of the room. Mumbling. Something about friends. It was shaking.

Maja turned.

They stared at each other. Atop a mound of lit candles large enough to sit on, Maja sat, toes sunken into the folds. Like a drowned king. Superglued moths adorned their bare back, some still twitching in time with death’s electrocurrents. The hem of their long white skirt was thick with hardening wax. Hundreds of candles. She was surprised Maja wasn’t on fire. Her roommate’s blackened nails grasped at the goop until a chunk hardened beneath their grip, their palms molding deformed figures. The floor bowed beneath the mound’s weight. [ROOMMATE] listened to the wet drumming of their heart quicken. Thousands of pumps, thousands of short breaths swaying the dust between them. Maja sniffed the air heartily until they started to cough, convulsing further into the wax. Who…? They whimpered. [ROOMMATE]? As [ROOMMATE’S] eyes adjusted, they saw. Maja’s eyes. A white film, eyes polluted with milk. They couldn’t see [ROOMMATE]. They suspected Maja couldn’t see anything. [ROOMMATE!?] they called. [ROOMMATE] backed away. Wax pooled under their feet, poised to harden. They cracked the first layer and slipped down the steps, panting their way toward the front door as a cracking voice let out a scream behind them. Her body told her to run. She stood at the bottom of the steps, breathing in gulps of thick, smoldering air. She exhaled. [ROOMMATE] ran back up the stairs. Maja mewled on their sticky molehill. [ROOMMATE], please, please, I’m sorry, please. [ROOMMATE] rushed to them, touching their arm before pulling them into an uncomfortable hug. Maja shook. [ROOMMATE] held their candle- and bug-speckled hair. Okay. Okay. [ROOMMATE] started to pull Maja up. One foot popped out without incident. They worked on the left. It was deeper, up to the calf. It pulled Maja back down. [ROOMMATE] jerked Maja upward quickly. Just then, sickening pops precluded a deep howl. [ROOMMATE] let Maja slip down, resting their body on the mound as she scraped at the yellowing wax. She excavated, digging until her nails broke under the friction. But the toes wiggled. The leftie came loose as [ROOMMATE] began to cough heavily. She picked Maja up, slipping down the stairs, out the front door, and onto the sidewalk. They both lay on the concrete, coughing. Maja sat up, convulsing between cries — whatever pain was being exorcised wasn’t being put down gently. [ROOMMATE] called 9-1-1, noticing their house was smoldering. She turned, seeing Maja heaving. She was scared of the thing next to her. It’s going to be okay. Maja stopped moving, head slumping unnaturally into [ROOMMATE’S] constricted chest. Quieting. No. No. No-no-no-no-no-no—

Photo by Kramer.