Radio Waves of the Macabre [On Hiatus]

Chapter 1 - Drowning (Part 2)

Waiting in the diner for their meeting earlier that evening, David's cheeks had flushed. He had imagined the stares of onlookers instinctually aware that he had been stood up. The whole incident had infuriated him, and what little hope he had built up had fallen with tenacious speed. Yet despite all of this, there had been no desire to harm Glazer. Yes, David knew that Glazer probably felt that he was better than him, and that some karmic justice was due that prick's way, but violence had not entered David's mind at all – not while he had waited at that diner.

Yet here at this bar...

Glass through flesh, down deep and thrusting up. Blood and tendon oozing through an inflamed wound.

David winced and stifled a moan. He didn't know if it was of revulsion or ecstasy, and that disturbed him most of all. His questions remained, their unspoken answer that which determined if he were a good man or a bad man. Perhaps not bad, but something, something else other than good for sure. Why this fixation?

***

When he had paid up and had left the diner, it had been almost half past six. He'd had a couple hours to waste before he was supposed to meet his girlfriend, Erika, and so he'd taken to foot and wandered Melrose, occasionally twisting his way down side streets and back up, killing time. The weather had been tolerable, just starting to cool for the evening and the winds calming down. He had been meandering in this aimless way when the first signs of rain started. What had he been saying about rain and L.A.? It was an L.A. rainfall so barely a drizzle, but even so he had sought shelter, and that was when he had first caught sight of the bar.

At the time he had still been upset, but it was a mellow, dull type of upset, and tempered by expectation of the night ahead. Erika and he had planned a dinner with friends up at the Formosa, and despite his disappointment he had been looking forward to seeing her, venting a little, and then moving on with the evening's festivities.

Yet, when he spotted the open sign of the bar shining into the early evening haze, something had shifted. The red neon had cast an eerie glow over the dark facade, shining gently off the wrought iron railing that guarded the sidewalk from the descending steps that led to the basement entrance.

Seriously, David had thought. Basement bars might dot downtown on the occasional corner, but here in the Hollywood area they were far less frequent. He had glanced down the narrow staircase revealing the subterranean entrance and a small wooden sign jutting out from the doorway. It read simply Grady's.

Not the most strategically placed sign, David had thought, but only in passing. Something about the place had called to him, demanding that he enter, and that demand had drowned out all other thoughts. Had it been then that the dark cloud had struck sending him down into the vile mood that now dominated over him? He believed that it had been, and yet he couldn't place it precisely. He only knew that when he looked upon that basement entrance, catching sight of the bar through the lower window, he had been compelled to enter.

***

Suddenly he had needed a drink to drown out the shit-storm of the afternoon.

He was lost in this chain of thought, staring past the old man now drooling into his unkempt beard, when his phone rang.

"David, where are you?"

Erika. Their dinner was supposed to start at nine. David glanced to his phone display: half past. For the life of him, David did not know where the time had gone.

"Shit! I'll be right there."

Shucking on his coat, David pushed back from his seat and slapped down a tip for the second drink. As his fingers leafed off the edge of the cash, they lingered a moment on the rough wood of the bar, the coarse texture scratching against his fingertips. Did he really want to go? Something unseen beckoned and for a moment he contemplated sitting back down and ordering another beer. He shouldn't leave. He belonged here.

Then the moment passed, David slipped his hands into his pockets and started off. As he did, the bartender looked up from the tap, and though David couldn't see his face clearly, he knew that asshat was judging him.

Fuck him, he thought, for the second time that night.

Click. The mental station changed.

A hand clasped the bartender by his red hair and slammed his judgmental face into the tap. His forehead cracked open and grey matter poured out into the waiting pint.

David winced, tuning out the unbidden image, and rushed out the door. As he slammed into the crisp night air, the violent imaginings faded into oblivion as if they never had been there at all. There was only the light evening heat against his skin, a tickle of wind just beginning to howl through the streets once again, and the mingled smell of exhaust and sweat. The burden lifted and David slowed to a stroll.

As he turned up La Brea, he imagined the stars above, currently hidden by the city lights, and everything seemed okay. Today, life had shat on him, but it would wash off, and he'd keep moving forward inch by cliché inch. His mood thus improved, all thoughts of violence vanished as quickly as they had previously sprung forth.

I hope that you enjoyed Chapter 1 of Radio Waves of the Macabre .  In an effort to get know my audience better, I'd love to occasionally engage on a few questions.

What are your first impressions of David?

Any thoughts on where you see his story progressing?

What has brought about the violent images that now haunt David?

And should he fillet Kris Glazer's fingers?

More importantly, now that he has left the bar behind, and his mood has improved, what do you imagine is next for David?  Is it smooth sailing from here?

Anyway, thanks for reading!  If you enjoyed the chapter, please feel free to click that little star and cast a vote, or leave some comments. 

Next Up: As David joins Erika and their group friends, will his violent thoughts return, and will those friends be able to suss out the darkness currently plaguing him.