Always repeating, never the same - or How not to trip on your way to pick up garbage
The Backrooms
Hey!
Psst, pstttt.
So, as I have been saying for a while now – I do not need any help. Thank you very much.
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See?! No help is needed. I am all good.
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Just get me out. Please. I beg you. Pleaseeeee. I really need to tell you something.
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Oh, that?? That was nothing. I wanted to show you something, but you are so hard to reach. It was only a short moment of desperation. A mere nuisance. You worry about the wrong things and do not understand anything anyhow. Just go. Go. And leave me alone.
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I’ll find my own way out. You stupid bastard! Get out, get out, get out!!
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It was a lovely bright day in Shikushan.
The air felt light. The current of the breeze was consistent enough to make it feel that standing in the out-right sun without any sort of protection was not only durable but enjoyable. It was hot enough to walk around wearing close-to-nothing, but fresh enough to disillusion a person into feeling like the exposed skin most definitely won’t immediately turn scorched. Grigor loveeees that kind of weather. Walking around aimlessly on the hot dilapidated white ceramic tiles that covered the town, smelling the ocean air and listening to the squawking of seagulls made it all the more irresistible if in the meantime he was thinking of some monkey business that needed to be done. It usually meant something bordering on general mischief, but never so that he himself feels morally compromised. It was more of a testing-the-boundaries-of-the-others affair, or to a similar extent, the testing of his boundaries of physical and mental competency and fitness.
So the game was on.
Today at what is perceived to be seven o’clock CET (Central European Time), Grigor will rouse up the inhabitants of his town just in time as the annual Summer Games of Art and Culture are starting. As the good people of Shikushan were busy in their festive preparations, nobody’s focus was on the town’s most notorious, but ultimately kind-hearted mischief-maker. The whole day Grigor spent thinking of a perfect prank that would set off the beginning of the Games. As his plan was slowly being constructed in his mind, his mood turned more devilishly gleeful every second. Though, something strange was tugging at him. If asked outright, he wouldn’t be able to explain the feeling to somebody, but it was as if a faint, distant thought, maybe a memory was fighting out to the forefront of his mind. But, he had no idea what kind of memory. There was almost nothing familiar about it. He let it go.
The Backrooms
This time I am going to be good. I will not do anything. I promise, I was only trying to show you something. Really, nothing can set me off. I need no help anymore.
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I am capable of being on my own. I need no assistance. Just peace of mind.
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Yes. Good. I am good.
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The only thing I was thinking you see, is that I would probably work better if… If I could just get a little bit of help maybe. Just a tiny bit. Nothing too much. I just need some help in bringing this idea to a new level. I just want to see what it would look like. Nothing dangerous, I promise. I just want to show it to you. If you look at this from a different angle, it’s actually for us. Not just me.
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Alright! I get it! You don’t want to even hear me out! Don’t need you anyway, I will do it on my own. Don’t you doubt it for a second, I am coming!
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As the day was slowly turning to evening, the blue of the sky becoming darker by the hour and more full of flocks of swallows that provided a gentle soundscape to the already exciting city, Grigor was in his starting position at the bottom of one of the many stairs that spread throughout the old part of the town. Crouched up in an edgy ball, his lanky body with long limbs always appeared paradoxically clumsy and useful. What at first seemed impractical, turned out to be an asset since his praying-mantis-like physique helped him in quickly and gracefully climbing through the city’s many walls, stoops, stairs, balconies and narrow rooftops. As he was now patiently waiting for the guards of the Old Town Walls to circle around the amphitheatre where the ceremonial opening of the Games took place, and for more people to gather around the main stage, he slowly started to pull his string.
The Backrooms
What are you doing?! This doesn’t look good. Nothing like what I had in mind.
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But whyyyy?? If you would just listen to me, this could be so much greater, and bigger and better. Glorious, even. We could do it together.
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I know how it would make you feel. I know how it would make me feel. It’s just that every time I think I am on my own, and somehow need to do everything alone, right then I see you. It’s like you want to reach out to me, and sometimes I feel it so close, and then you disappear again. And then I get angry.
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Do you see? That’s why. So we can now work together, help each other. I see that you are planning something, but I fear it’s not thought through enough. Just give me a chance to show you what I have planned. Even if you can’t really hear me properly, I’ll send somebody to give you a nudge. I am here and ready. Alright?
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Alright?
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The plan was to wreak havoc on the good people of Shiskushan and the creators of the Games, at least that’s how it looked in Grigor’s mind. Due to the poor infrastructure and low investments into the city’s cultural sphere, as years went by the citizens always had to use the same, now aged stage equipment. Which was, of course, very attractive to the young and wishful Grigor. Each year passed, and Grigor would become more and more attracted to the idea of ‘gently pushing’ a few of these stage props, such as the old oak doors meant to represent the royal doors of an ancient palace that was portrayed in the Games. Or perhaps moving the small wooden stage stairs a few centimetres to the right, so as to witness the futile attempts of the main orchestra’s conductor, or first violinists not to trip and embarrass themselves in front of the eager crowd. But this year he saw an opportunity to combine all his ideas into one glorious spectacle that would surely give him a good case of the giggles.
If the citizens, and to that extent the guards cared for anything, then that was to at least give the impression to the outside world that this was still a respectable event and so everything needed to be in some kind of order. Every square was embellished in the town’s traditional ornaments and colours, the general people dressed in proper clothing and every street needed to be cleaned to perfection. Which was where Grigor entered. To his great satisfaction, he found a few pieces of crumpled paper in an alley where nobody went during the games. And this is how his plan started to form. He will put those pieces of paper on a thin, almost invisible string and gently pull them in front of the two guards that were guiding the right corner of the stage. What the guards don’t know is that there is another string tightly pulled in front of the stage podium, which is if say accidentally pulled will release its grip from the stage doors, which are then supposed to fall and play a domino effect on all the artificial ancient stoops put on the stage. Now, if that resulted in a mild panic in the crowd, all the better of course. As he was going through all the points in his head, that crippling sensation tugged at the back of his neck. It was as if something deep in the back was tingling and he wanted to scratch it really bad, but couldn’t reach it. He tried to focus on the string and the guards, but suddenly his plan seemed flaky. Not as good, as if no matter how much he liked his small adventures, it seemed too little. Though he had never given too much thought to his plans before, it seemed now like he knew he could create greater havoc. Something bigger and more concrete, he just had no firm grasp on what that could be. At that instant a seagull descended a few feet from him, interrupting his strange train of thought, but not the sensation he was feeling. From all the nooks and crannies, balconies and alleys, a seagull appeared right there next to him. Almost to expose him from his little hidden corner. Grigor hated seagulls. He always thought there was something sinister about them. Their eyes always looked simultaneously frightening and strangely inviting. For all the pranks that he was doing, he never intended a serious offence to anyone, but seagulls seem to always be there as if to signal that there is something more that he could do.
The Backrooms
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Now, just stay there and focus better. I am here and waiting, just come a little closer. I am right here, can you feel me?
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I can feel you a bit closer to me. Good.
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So close now, I can almost hear your thoughts, I feel your confusion, yes. So my proposition for you, is to focus on what makes you feel the happiest. There is no right and wrong there, whatever makes you the happiest. Believe me. I will help you feel that, and you will help me get out. I just want to feel the outside world a bit more. That makes ME happy, you know. Just focus. On. Me.
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Hey!!!
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Grigor stared at the seagull, and the seagull didn’t seem like it was moving. It was staring back. Grigor wanted to scar it away, but the tingling sensation in him was growing even more. Getting exponentially more confused, and even though he would never admit it to anyone, a bit scared, he started to kick his arms and legs towards the seagull to push him away. ‘Why wasn’t he moving??,’ Grigor thought to himself in panic. Momentarily forgetting the string, the prank and the whole plan, he loosened the grip on his string. The papers started to weirdly dance in front of the guard and as the guard stepped out to hastily grab it, it was garbage on the street after all, ‘all streets need to be squeaky clean!’, an order alarmed in his head, and as he stepped out he planted his foot right in front of the uptight string that was going along the stage. In a split second that he was falling and almost about to set off the domino effect, his colleague the second guard caught him. But, before both of them quickly got in their upright position, the second guard noticed that the papers that his colleague was holding were weirdly still dancing in his hand. Making sure his colleague was alright and everything was well in place, he asked for the papers from the smitten colleague and he left his position, following the paper’s tugs. It was as if it was moving to a small staircase in the distance. He promptly moved and as he was nearing the stairs, in the hidden cranny he saw a long sticking leg and a bothered seagull.
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And there it was. A crouched-up boy, fighting off a seagull while holding a string that connected to the very papers he was still holding in his hands. The boy, clearly in the fight to push away the seagull, took a few moments to realize that somebody was clearly there and watching him. After a while of struggle, Grigor successfully showed off the menacing seagull, and just as he was about to get back into his position, his view fell on the black boots of a grown person. He looks up to see a tall guard with a serious expression on his face. It was at this moment that Grigor knew he wasn’t going to pull this trick off. The only question was whether to run or give in. There was a significant part of him that knew what would happen now, he would eventually get caught, but why not throw on some good ol’ fashioned cops and robbers chasing down his favourite streets of his beloved town? As the guard was about to start a sentence of no doubt, asking him what his plan was with this, Grigor started to run.
And run he could. He knew everything. Every nook and alley, passage and window, balcony and garden to crawl through, and give the guards a proper workout. As he was running down the cobblestone alley, there was a part of him that enjoyed the chase almost as much as he would be enjoying pulling off his trick. Focusing on the next street, on the next corner, on the footsteps of the guards, he felt his body alive and most importantly, the tingling sensation was gone. He didn’t know where and why. He was just glad it wasn’t there anymore, it was a strange line of thought he was having anyway. If you asked him, he prefered the ‘fear’ of this chase and the ‘punishment’ more than that feeling. Not to mention the seagull.
He continued running and smiling.
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The Backrooms
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HEYYY!!! What are you doing?!? We almost made it! We were so close! Hey!
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Stop that! Stop it! I was going to help you!! Heeeeeeeeeeeeey!
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You got me again! If you do not need my help, I do not need your help either! I will get back! Do not forget I am always here. Ready. I don’t need anyone’s help. I will do it on my own, and find another opportunity as always.
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So, as I have been saying for a while now – I do not need any help. I will do it on my own. Thank you. It might not be the same, but I will always come back.
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Hey!
Pssssst! Pssst.
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