Piper Square - Chapter 7 - Raymond Nocte
Several minutes had passed before Raymond Nocte realized he was standing in a pool of blood. Having stepped into the market, his intentions had been only to procure peaches, a craving which had developed during the train ride home to Pepper Station.
Raymond stood at the counter of the corner store for several minutes awaiting the return of Sam Gardello, a portly graying Portuguese man who had opened this store a few years prior. Raymond was hardly a frequent visitor, but Sam had a knack for treating all his customers as valued customers.
Then came the impulse to look down.
The porcelain-white tile covered in a pool of dark red, and his eyes following the trail, came to rest upon the corpse of Sam Gardello, a hole in his skull and gun in his hand. On the wall, previously unnoticed, hung what was left of his mind.
Momentarily shocked, Raymond Nocte returned to his senses, grabbed a small bag, filled it with peaches, then rushed to find the nearest officer.
Later that evening Raymond sat in his armchair, looking out the window and into the great expanse of the city and removed from his mouth the pulpy, hardened remains of what was once a peach.
Lost in thought he came to a profound realization: From a distance everything seems at peace.
This was certainly true of the city, and it was also true of Sam. From a distance he seemed happy and content, but who knew the various symptoms that led to his suicide. Once the outer layer is peeled, nothing inside is normal.
Raymond knew this of himself.
The facade he presented, the life he lived, the people he interacted with, all a recipe for sadness, and perhaps one day soon, he too would place a barrel to his temple and release himself from the lie.
For now cowardice kept the feeling at bay.
He looks out the window once more, but instead of the city he saw a reflection of himself and began to cry.
In the darkness of his bedroom Raymond tried to drift to sleep. Instead he found his thoughts coming to life, as though paint was spilling from his mind onto the dark canvass. Streets were forming, lined with palm trees and buildings bathed in light from a forgiving sun.
The hills burst from the ground, erupting colors that marked the background in purples, greens, browns against the perfect blue sky.
His bed was gone, replaced by a convertible automobile; and he was there, riding in the passenger seat, a handsome man pressing his right hand deep into Raymond’s thigh as a breeze poured through his lengthy hair.
The feeling was pleasant, suggesting for a moment something was wrong; or upon reconsideration finally right.
Looking into the passenger side mirror, he saw a feminine and unfamiliar face looking back.
A smile formed.
She took hold of his hand, and guided it higher.
For now, in this place, Raymond Nocte was gone, replaced by the youthful, effervescent and flirty Ramona Day.
Raymond stood at the counter of the corner store for several minutes awaiting the return of Sam Gardello, a portly graying Portuguese man who had opened this store a few years prior. Raymond was hardly a frequent visitor, but Sam had a knack for treating all his customers as valued customers.
Then came the impulse to look down.
The porcelain-white tile covered in a pool of dark red, and his eyes following the trail, came to rest upon the corpse of Sam Gardello, a hole in his skull and gun in his hand. On the wall, previously unnoticed, hung what was left of his mind.
Momentarily shocked, Raymond Nocte returned to his senses, grabbed a small bag, filled it with peaches, then rushed to find the nearest officer.
---
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| Pepper Station - Art by Jacob Hair |
Lost in thought he came to a profound realization: From a distance everything seems at peace.
This was certainly true of the city, and it was also true of Sam. From a distance he seemed happy and content, but who knew the various symptoms that led to his suicide. Once the outer layer is peeled, nothing inside is normal.
Raymond knew this of himself.
The facade he presented, the life he lived, the people he interacted with, all a recipe for sadness, and perhaps one day soon, he too would place a barrel to his temple and release himself from the lie.
For now cowardice kept the feeling at bay.
He looks out the window once more, but instead of the city he saw a reflection of himself and began to cry.
---
In the darkness of his bedroom Raymond tried to drift to sleep. Instead he found his thoughts coming to life, as though paint was spilling from his mind onto the dark canvass. Streets were forming, lined with palm trees and buildings bathed in light from a forgiving sun.
The hills burst from the ground, erupting colors that marked the background in purples, greens, browns against the perfect blue sky.
His bed was gone, replaced by a convertible automobile; and he was there, riding in the passenger seat, a handsome man pressing his right hand deep into Raymond’s thigh as a breeze poured through his lengthy hair.
The feeling was pleasant, suggesting for a moment something was wrong; or upon reconsideration finally right.
Looking into the passenger side mirror, he saw a feminine and unfamiliar face looking back.
A smile formed.
She took hold of his hand, and guided it higher.
For now, in this place, Raymond Nocte was gone, replaced by the youthful, effervescent and flirty Ramona Day.
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