Dưới bóng hồng nhạn
Vũ Hương
Tôi thấy tôi người tôi yêu bên kia đầu cầu
Trên đỉnh mây trắng, đôi tay mấp máy đôi câu gì
Mà tôi không hay mình đã từng quên hay nhớ
Người đi ra từ sương tối phù hương
Không bóng chỉ còn một hình hài vẹn nguyên
Gấu quần sót vương một vệt máu đào
Người đi ra từ chiến trường thương thiên
Cánh gãy đôi dòng xuôi tay
Những tiếng hét tan đi trong sương sớm
Khi chưa có đôi tai nào kịp thức
Vệt sữa vương trên môi tôi còn chưa kịp hiểu
Người tôi yêu đã nằm yên dưới bóng hồng nhạn.
Lưu đày
Lê Thảo
Chuyến đi làm đứt gãy của tôi những mảnh sương sườn, chuyến đi khởi thuỷ từ cái chết và biển lúc nào cũng độc đoán và cưỡng bức như vậy, chúng tôi ra đi trên những chiếc thuyền bè mục nát tồi tàn, chúng tôi tin cả bọn có thể vượt qua được Thái Bình Dương như Kon-Tiki và những người bạn, mà còn hơn thế nữa. Chúng tôi tự tin là những nhà khởi nghiệp của biển cả, mục tiêu của chúng tôi là những kẻ di cư, những kẻ đào tẩu khỏi những căm ghét xứ sở, khỏi yêu thương bất lực, khỏi một nơi chốn không còn dành cho mình, chúng tôi không có gì nhiều ngoài một chút vũ khí trộm cắp được để làm vốn cùng một ít thuốc nổ để đánh cá. Chuyến đi kéo dài đã hơn hai tuần mà chưa bắt được con mồi nào, năm người đói nhẳng, vùng biển nghèo nàn, đã thế tôi còn lo sốt vó vì ở đằng kia chúng tôi bị hăm doạ bởi những đám mây xám xịt đang há miệng nhai nhai từng khoảng trời, một chuyến đi nghiệt ngã, nhưng chúng tôi coi đây như đã là lựa chọn cuối cùng của cuộc đời. Ở đất liền, chúng tôi cũng sẽ chết mà thôi, cái chết này sẽ huy hoàng, hơn nữa chúng tôi cũng không muốn nhìn thấy quê hương của mình bị hiếp đáp, bị chôn vùi và diệt vong bởi những bọn ăn cướp, không muốn ở cái nơi chúng tôi quen với những gương mặt chết nhiều hơn là những gương mặt sống, mùi máu tanh và sự hôi thối của xác người làm tôi buồn nôn, tôi không muốn nhìn thấy cơ thể mình nổ ra thành từng mảnh, đời vốn là mạt vận nên chúng tôi đã bạt mạng để ra biển.
Bọn mây đen nhấn ga và lao đến, chớp rạch ngang trời như tận thế. Trong những giây đầu tiên chúng tôi không biết phải làm gì ngoài nhìn cơn mưa đầu tiên với biển cả, thế rồi gió bắt đầu nổi lên quật tất cả những thứ trên bè đổ ngả nghiêng, mưa bắt đầu rơi, sấm sét đùng đoàng, miệng tôi không ngừng thốt ra những thứ như nó đang là “Dm biển ! Dm cái vẻ đẹp huy hoàng của biển ! Hỡi ôi những linh hồn bị lưu đầy ! Chúng tôi cố gắng nhét nhét, buộc neo tất cả mọi thứ lại, tôi bắt đầu hét lớn “Hạ buồm”, mưa hung bạo một cách nhịp nhàng, tôi không nhìn thấy một cái mẹ gì, đọc truyện mãi cũng không nghĩ mọi sự lại khốc liệt đến thế, bỗng chốc một thành viên trong đoàn hét lên, “Thằng J và con chó đã rơi xuống biển”, tôi lao ra mép bè, thấy J ngấp nghé đang nhao ra với con chó xa dần. Không một động tác thừa, tôi buộc dây chặt mình với thuyền mà lao xuống nước, đây không phải là lần đầu tiên những phức cảm của tôi về cái chết lại thân cận như vậy, tôi đã bị thương rất nhiều khi còn là gangster, mình mẩy đầy di chứng. Nhưng lần này tôi đã nghĩ mình sẽ chết thật. Sóng đè tôi xuống, tôi không nhìn thấy thằng J đâu cả, tôi không có thời gian để uất ức. Nước siết cổ tôi một cách lạnh lùng, tôi nháo nhác vô vọng, cuối cùng đã túm được mớ tóc xoăn của J, còn nó thì cứ ôm chặt con chó trắng vào người, tôi hét lên bằng tất cả cái chết.
- Thằng ngu – bỏ nó ra
Cơn dùng dằng làm tôi bắt đầu kiệt sức, nhưng chắc ông giời có mắt, thần linh thương xót, mưa bắt đầu dịu dàng hơn, thần chết bắt đầu nhẹ tay hơn và nhả chúng tôi ra, tôi kéo J được trở lại thuyền, tôi thở hổn hển như một con chó già, còn nó thì chả thèm quan tâm tôi mà ôm con chó như báu vật. Tôi kéo tay nó bằng một lực rất mạnh, để bắt nó nhìn thẳng vào mặt tôi.
- Thằng chó, mày muốn chết đấy à, định chưa nhìn thấy cá mập thì bị nó nuốt luôn hả. Đồ con hoang !
- Anh nghĩ anh hơn tôi à, chúng ta giống nhau cả thôi, đều được sinh ra từ cùng một con điếm.
- Á à, cái bản mặt vênh váo và ương ngạnh của nó làm tôi điên tiết, tôi cho nó ăn một cái bạt tai, nó nghĩ nó là ai.
- Đồ ác ôn, nó chửi tôi, trên má nó hằn những vết tay tôi, thật phi lý khi đây là lần đầu tiên tôi đánh nó dù tôi đã luôn có 100 % cơ hội để tẩn nó một trận ra trò.
- Tao có bố, còn mày thì không
- Tôi sẽ giết anh
Nó túm cổ tôi bằng đôi bàn tay của một thằng thiếu niên mười hai tuổi, đôi mắt lưng chừng nước, sau đó nó đẩy tôi ra, quệt nước mắt bỏ chạy vào chòi ngủ với con chó của mình. Tôi nóng mặt, nói võng theo.
- Biết thế tao để mày chết trong đống tinh dịch ở nhà thổ rồi, hèn bỏ mẹ ra lại còn đòi làm hải tặc.
Sau cơn mưa, chúng tôi kiểm tra thương tật cho chiếc bè của mình, thức ăn dự trữ sắp hết, chúng tôi bắt đầu tìm cách đánh cá với những chiếc lưới nhỏ, ai nấy đều lẩm bẩm thiên địa ông giời gặp được một cái đảo hoang vu nào đấy để dung thân, tôi đảo mắt nhìn quanh, J ôm con chó ngủ ngon lành. Bình thường tầm này chúng tôi thường nằm trên bè, lề mề lai rai cá mực với thứ rượu mận tự chưng cất mang theo, còn J - nó sẽ thường ngồi cạnh con chó mà hát dân ca quê hương, khi rời đi tôi muốn để nó lại cho mẹ tôi, ít nhất bà cũng là mẹ nó, ít nhất lũ quân địch chẳng bao giờ động đến nhà thổ, vì chúng coi nhà thổ như một phục dịch đương nhiên dù đã lỗi thời. Nhưng nó không, nó bảo thà chết còn hơn trở về với mẹ. Nó bảo với tôi nó muốn nhìn thấy biển. Thế là nó theo tôi cùng cái thứ nặng nợ chết tiệt là con chó tật nguyền nó nhặt được như từ kiếp trước. Chả còn nhà cửa, chả còn đường xá, (bệnh viện) chúng tôi không hòng được gì khi ở lại quê hương, trước khi trường học bị đánh sập, nó nói với tôi sau này nó muốn trở thành một người hát dân ca, tôi đã ném cho nó một cái nhìn thôn tính, tôi đã làm đủ thứ xấu xa để nuôi nó lớn lên, không phải để nó đi hát mấy bài hát sắp bị tuyệt chủng, đó chỉ là giấc mơ phóng túng và ngẫu hứng của J, rồi giấc mơ của tuổi thiếu niên sớm muộn cũng bại liệt và chết yểu. Tôi hét vào khối óc nó, nó khóc lóc bỏ nhà ra đi, nó cần nhìn vào thực tế rằng cuộc đời là một chuỗi những khốn nạn vô cùng. Tôi không biết mình có tàn nhẫn không, nhưng tôi cũng đã lớn lên như vậy, đã sớm nhận ra sự tàn khốc của giấc mơ thuỷ thủ, nên tôi chưa động đến việc nó sẽ nghĩ cái quái gì, nhưng hôm nay khi nhìn thấy nó ngủ, những suy nghĩ của tôi trở nên hậu đậu, tôi lo nó sẽ ghét tôi đến tuyệt thực. Chúng tôi lăn ra ngủ sau cơn say của rượu và sự lo nê của mẻ cá, tôi nghe thấy tiếng gió biển thổi qua những chai thuỷ tinh rỗng, đôi mắt tôi lim dim, khi trăng đã lên cao, J ngồi bên mép bè, dưới sao trời, nó vừa xé mực cho con chó vừa hát những bài dân ca thuộc về da thịt.
Nai đen
Vũ Hương
Ôi tuổi hoa những phương trời bất tận
Khung cửa sổ gió thổi mây bay
Trên triền đê hoàng hôn rủ bóng
Những bước chân vội vã về nhà
Bữa ăn chiều mâm cơm dọn sẵn
Chiếc bụng ấm bỏ đói khát xa xôi
Khoé môi vương vệt mỡ trơn trong vắt
Đầu lưỡi nếm từng mỹ vị nhân gian.
Ôi tuổi trẻ những phương trời vô vọng
Dưới bóng cây ngồi vẽ tuổi thơ ngây
Hải âu bay ngang vùng biển xa lạ
Dấu chân in trên cát mịt mờ
Nhớ thương đi qua màu mắt đắng
Chốn đông tây chồng chéo lạc loài
Mình mình thênh thang không hàng không lối
Nhìn mây trôi giữa hoang mộng thảo nguyên
Sáng hôm nay em thấy mình tỉnh giấc
Đã qua đêm những chú nai đen
Cà phê sữa cho cả mùa đông thức
Để không mơ về bãi bể nương dâu
Từng tiếng máy phô tô sột soạt
Qua những vách ngăn kề nhau san sát
Sao chép ngàn vạn cánh bướm trang chu
Ai là ai là ai là ai
Nhìn xuống chân hoa vẫn bến bờ địa ngục.
bào thai trong bụng chúa
ceramic rat
.utter bellyache due to loss of love.
i've swum the ocean before, but somehow i could not do it again.
i never not knew how to swim, still i couldn't swing my arms and kick my legs to feel my limbs underwater.
i lost the ability to connect with my nerves, muscles, spines and thus i collided with the flow that was supposed to help me float.
is this the story you've told before?
tao cá đây là một câu chuyện luôn được kể chứ chẳng được nghe.
✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊✧
he whispered "don't you worry, i'll guide you." during the daytime while lit a candle then another candle then the final candle we had in our room.
the light of orange flames combusted the sunshine poured in yellow and white that scatterly smeared on the window sill which its door wide opened.
as earth is bathing under the ray of one humongous daystar, its offsprings are protecting themselves with thousands of helios's tinier versions.
through the hazy glass from the view of the room's inside, wouldn't you find the panorama as mediocrely turpid or furiously phantasmagorical?
from the view of the room's outside, would you find yourself catching a single image of what is through the hazy glass?
perhaps something as heinously chimerical or serenely vulgar?
but did you know, we can choose to observe the scenery through lights of the candles also;
đấy là nếu đốm lửa có thể nhìn qua - anh ta nói rồi giương cặp mắt bỏng mí ngồi xuống nhìn bức tường đằng sau những hộp nến.
ִֶָ ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ִֶָ ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ִֶָ ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐
we are swimmers as we're deemed to be by nature.
our limbs since the day we escaped the womb will start to stretch; we began to hold, pull, push, walk, run, grab, stab, we use these arms as pillows to nap, we use these legs to roam, we slap the living shit out of our children's faces with our hands and we rub our feet on our partners' genitals. all the things we learnt for us were never able to form such abilities.
our limbs since the day we crawled out of the moisty cavern learnt how to swing and kick underwater as if it's one of the things we hadn't experienced before like a forgotten instinct to the point it was perhaps never there in the back of our animalistic core.
we study the /natural/.
like it wasn't natural but a made-up product, another society's invention, an environment's law of existence - a survival skill to be exact. if we don't swim, we die. we were able to swim without stretches and pulls, refusal of withdrawal, refusal of prolongate, refusal of doing anything but swirl in an echoing mere chamber, how come we are doing it again without a single existing memory back when we were floating in nonchalance?
our studies of nature perhaps are nothing new nor interesting but just a longing for the absence, a craving of those neglections. but what was that went absented and what was that neglected us? i could be wrong, i might am just babbling randomness. but,
no human being during their newborn, toddler, grader, teenager, adult and elder phases could possibly be alive if thrown into a pond or an ocean once they got yanked out of their mothers' bowels if that's the curse of the unnatural.
- tao nên nói gì với mày bây giờ?
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆🎀🩰🦢🕯️⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
he whispered "don't you worry, i'll guide you." during the nighttime while blew off a candle then another candle then the final candle we had in our room.
the light of dying flames combusted the moonshine poured in dim and gloam that scatterly smeared on the window sill which its door still wide opened.
as earth sleeps under the ray of one humongous nightstar, its offsprings are protecting themselves with thousands of hecate's tinier versions.
through the hazy glare from the view of my inside, wouldn't you find the vista as mundanity and sordid or frantically apparitional?
from the view of my outside, would you find yourself catching a single image of what is through the hazy glare?
perhaps a non-entitious gruesomeness or a barbaric tranquillity?
but did you know, we can choose to observe the scenery through the dying light also;
đấy là nếu có thể nhìn thấu - anh ta nói rồi giương cặp mắt đui mù nhìn vào bóng đêm trong hầm ngục tối chảy từ bụng xuống âm đạo tôi.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ .
┊ ˚ ★⋆｡ ˚★⋆｡˚
┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆
┊ ┊ ★⋆
┊ ◦
★⋆ ┊. ˚
˚★
★⋆｡
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ .
┊ ˚ ★⋆｡
˚★⋆｡˚
┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆
┊ ┊ ★⋆
┊ ◦
★⋆ ┊. ˚
˚★ ★⋆｡
fetuses
can swim and
we are
god's offsprings.
they said the above gave birth to two human beings whom were Eva and Adam, whose limbs stretched; to hold, pull, push, walk, run, grab, stab, to use those arms as pillows to nap and those legs to roam, to use those hands as sewing needles to make clothes out of leaves and those feet as tools to run away from the other partner.
but how come they were born humans, and how come humans are god's creations - how come all creatures were born creatures and god's creations? what about eggs and sprouts and phases of being newborns, toddlers, teenagers, adults and elders?
what about the process of forming a creature? humans cannot swim.
but fetuses can.
Adam and Eva were born from god as human beings, they were born with features of grown people.
but how come people are so helpless?
they can't save themselves from drowning.
if fetuses can swim but can't the humans, and humans are god's creations, i guess
fetuses are aliens?
are fetuses even humans for they come from humans? are fetuses even god's creations if god never gave birth to them but humans?
are eggs and sprouts and phases of living creatures and their process of becoming one god's creations if god gave birth to tangible materials?
tao nghĩ là chúa chưa từng mang thai bao giờ.
does that even solve an asked question?
was there even a question at all?
what is it in god's bellybutton?
─── ⋆˚₊୨୧₊˚⋆ ───
- don't you worry, i'll guide you. he whispered.
then why was i praying to god?
the light reflected on our skins combusted the shines poured crying tears-glassiness that scatterly smeared on the window sill which its door wide opened.
scratches on burnt-brown wooden cupboards wouldn't need the sun ray to see how yellow they are, but within darkness, you could not tell how red the scratches are on the porcelain-coloured thighs of mine.
each of our ceramic mugs stays sparkingly bright of green and lime even behind the old-age glass, but how come with these glasses, we still can't tell the smudgy blues in our dark brunette eyes.
you crush me better at dubious night. you refuse to touch and flee when clear morning arrives.
why do we light candles when hecate is absent, why don't we blow them off when helios is in present?
tell me. i whispered.
we glanced at the outside, but our vision was blocked away by a piece of silky, see-through fabric hung up the window. i asked him if it's mediocrely turpid or furiously phantasmagorical at all when staring at those trees and their branches like sharpy pathways to direct the views where our eyes go, the head of people down below, the way birds' bodies move which somehow always seemed like they're having multiple seizure episodes and the vibrant colours painted on those buildings in grey-ish pigments, he asked me whether or not i'm fucked in the head.
- you're not so much of an angelic person.
i never said i was one. haven't i always been in this blood and skin of a human being?
- no. he said, you're a disgusting existence.
- but not a sinner.
he glanced back to the inside.
- i need to take a deep dive.
- drown me in the pond, please, take me back to be a fetus.
i am not god.
- you shall be one.
vậy tại sao tao đang cầu nguyện với hắn?
໋🌷֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡.‧₊ 🌷*:･⋅˚₊‧ 🌷 ‧₊˚ ⋅
are you going to keep remaining silent?
"that's a great question." he whispered.
what is a sinner?
"humans."
are you?
"you couldn't just leave me to swim in peace, could you."
i swear i saw the ginger-coloured scratches on burnt-brown wooden cupboards spread long like tree branches that tore my sight apart and concaved like the rustling noises that scraped down to my flesh.
so you can be a fetus? but fetuses don't come from god's bellybutton.
"i shall be one."
the fingers slowly turned purple as each of them from fondling strings of hair to yanking off until the hands grew weeds and the tiny head went lone.
at least tell me, am i non-entitious and gruesome or barbaric and tranquil at all,
god?
the clouds slowly swirled into a pile of viridian vomit as each blob of sunshine fell dazzling down like a bright and heated volley.
my question remained silent.
the limbs slowly turned crystalline as each of my tears and rheum flowed all the way down the abdomen until i melted into a reservoir.
i tried to reach out for a candle and some matches, but the second i swung in motion, a piece of my skin splashed on the floor. a mere mahogany plash like algal bloom tide hissed then dissolved on the ground as if nothing had painted my clustered floor a second ago.
a fetus's carrier is a god's offspring. so -
i looked down at the enormous creature trying to float in absolute nonchalance in the middle of my creek -
CRAWL THE FUCK OUT OF MY WOMB RIGHT NOW.
"i'm not going back to be a human, i'm not going to be sinful."
BUT YOU ARE, YOU SO FUCKING ARE. YOU DON'T GET TO BE A GOD'S INEXISTED CREATURE.
"so you admit that you're god."
BECAUSE I WON'T BECOME A FETUS'S CARRIER.
tiếng vỗ oàm oạp trong hầm ngục cùng tiếng quẫy đạp thùm thụp làm nước bắn tung tóe rồi chảy như xối tựa dòng thác đổ.
where the smoke amalgamated with shades of colours, there were trails to each⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
item lying somewhere tragically and sporadically the eyes can spot to numerous
placements, and each painted in such somberness for smoke isn't white clear
nor passionately pale, so i dragged my eyes to the trails that led to the
colours of each item. as i raised my neck, i realised
mirrors of the sky are not the reflective surface of the lochs, they are the
gateways of heavens for angels are transparent.
because all i saw were imperceptible celestial beings and not my own self.
if you were here
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you'd know it too.
anh ta nói rồi đứng lên, khoác lại da và xương khớp trên người rồi đóng cửa sổ và bỏ lại căn phòng có bào thai nằm chết trên mặt nước đẫm máu.
♡✩°｡⋆🕷- - - - - ☽───⛧ ༺♰༻ ⛧───☾ - - - - 🕷⋆｡°✩♡
6pm
E L
“St Kilda Police unit to attend Ripponlea train station for report of a suicide, male unconscious, not breathing, trapped under the train”.
Fucking hell cunt. 6pm on a Friday night, there will be cunts everywhere. I got Jamie with me and it is his first day as a probationary police officer.
I turn my police sirens on and drive 120km per hour to the train station. People are so stupid whenever a police car is behind them. They either freeze, don’t move out of the way or do something incredibly stupid like slam their brakes so I will have to slam my brakes.
I find myself praying that he is alive, please please be alive. I had a drug overdose only a few days ago and I am not yet recovered from that death let alone going to a train death. I have never met this guy but I am already praying that he is alive. I am not even religious yet I am praying that he is alive.
Actually you know what, I think I am religious. I am not a hardcore Christian but I do believe there is something powerful beyond us. All these Atheists and non-believers. My challenge to them is if they have ever faced a life and death situation, I am interested to see who gets on their knees and prays to the Almighty. Life and death situations equalise the human, the arrogance of humanity that we are it and there is no one above us. Fucking bullshit. I thought I was a non believer until I did this job and I often find myself praying to the Almighty either I don’t die or the cunt I am trying to save does not die. I don’t know why, but I find myself instinctively just doing it.
All you Atheists and non believers have been insulated and cushioned in your little marshmallow lives. You have never had the barrel of a gun pointed in your precious little mouth, nor had a serial sex offender and rapist corner you, drug you and whilst you are in and out of consciousness, his evil face looms over your blurry eyes and violate your soul. Yes you have never felt your soul, spirit and human body at the mercy of another so you never had to call upon the Almighty to save you. Makes me sick to think of these ignorant and narrow-minded cunts know better, how even dare we suggest we are it?
I am praying it is a hoax call. I have never been to a train fatality. I have attended another train suicide incident where some local crackhead jumped in front of a train and I thought shit here we go. Same situation, I was with a new guy. I am really cursed. They call me Dr Death at my station because of how many deaths I have been to. But turns out by some miracle she survived although her hips were fractured. Cockroaches are hard to kill. The good die young yet these scumbags can even survive being hit by a train.
Anyways, I am flying down the road to get to Ripponlea station. I get to the station and I see the train stop just short of the train station.
Not fucking good.
I jump out of the car and there are just motherfucking cunts everywhere. Nothing makes me more angry than all these passersby watching, standing and filming. Why do people fucking stop and film whenever there is something bad happening? I do not have social media and exactly for this reason? Is your petty life on social media that important? You think people give a fuck about what picture you post or how many likes they give you? I yell at them, get back, get back from the fucking scene.
I hear people screaming and pointing towards the train tracks. I hear people crying. I see a woman standing at the tracks, frozen. There is nothing so terrifying as seeing another person freeze, eyes open and unable to move. I ask her what happened. No response. I yell at her what happened.
She does not hear me, she cannot hear me.
Fuck her.
I walk fast and break into a run. Fucking hell cunt. I see a dark figure under the train tracks.
I run towards the train and the dark shape is a human figure. Thankfully his face is turned away from me. I never look at the face if I can. I had a dream once where all the dead bodies I went to, I was at the dinner table and they were all seated around me and all their faces were looking at me.
I turn my light on him and I will always remember seeing a wedding ring on his finger. He has been run over by the train wheel and I can see his body cut in half. Can you fucking believe that.
I go on my belly, I continue to hear people screaming, cars have come to a stop, beeping their horn wondering why there is a delay. I see a crowd gather around me, all filming me. I am so short from pulling out my pistol and firing a warning shot to just get everyone to fucking get back. I hear some people whooping and excited to see police in action. But a fucking cunt is stuck under the wheel and you are filming me?
I would love for one of these people filming to suffer a horrific injury, crushed in a car crash, perhaps they were screaming for help. Then I will walk over very casually to them, film them whilst they are screaming for their life and I will get my phone out and I will film so I can show all my friends and get the likes. I think that would satisfy me.
You think I am a jaded, angry, cynical police officer don’t you? You think I need help don’t you? That I need religion, psychotherapy. No I don’t want any of that, I just want people to own up to their fucking mistakes and have some respect for human life and dignity. I have never felt more distrust, contempt and utter disgust for the same society I took an oath to serve and protect. These very people laughing and whooping at me under a train and filming me on TikTok, I am expected to give my life for them?
I get on my belly but it is hard as this body armour is thick and gets in the way. I can't breathe in this fucking vest. Some higher up had the idea we should all wear heavy body armour and he got a promotion out of it but it fucks my lower back and inhibits my mobility.
I crawl to the bottom of the train and stick my head under the wheel. It is a strange feeling when you are on your stomach and stick your head under the wheel. I wonder if the train will roll forward. It is counter intuitive to lie on your stomach and place your head under the train wheel yet I found myself in this exact position.
I grab a hold of the guy’s arm. This man I have never met before and start to pull him. I tell him, “My name is Emerson, I am from the St Kilda Police Station. Don’t worry, I am here with you. I am here for you. Stay with me”. His chest is rising and falling. I keep telling him, hi I am emerson. I am here to help you, just stay with me. I am also begging. I am begging him to stay alive. I am begging God to keep this fucker alive. Alive so I don’t have the trauma of him dying, I don’t have to remember his face for the rest of my life.
Why you selfish cunt die now and now I have to suffer for the rest of my life? Because of your own misery, now all of us here, we are eternally fucked because you have passed from this world yet we are now on the world holding the torrent of trauma from the rest of the public. I get why people suicide, but in a place so public is so incredibly selfish and now you have died, but now my life is traumatized and I will forever be impacted by your death. Yes you have left this world, BUT I still have to live in this world. I hate him already.
It is an intimate feeling to come with death. I touch you, I smell you, I see you, I hear your shallow breathing. The death and trauma goes into my pores, my DNA. I am intimately connected to you more than you ever will with your parents, your partner and your children. All the orgasms you have reached in your life does not even compare to the transcendental connection that I have when you die and I am the first contact with you. I was not there with you when you were born, but I was there when you passed from this Earth and I am trying to traverse into death, a foolish task to try to bring you back to life. In my case, trying to drag this fucker off the train tracks.
I continue to pull him and try to get him off the tracks but the fucker won’t move. Fucking hell, I take my body armour off, fuck policy, I don’t give a fuck if I get in trouble. This motherfucker, it is never easy. I see why it is so hard to drag him off the tracks. The 50 ton train is on top of his legs still. He is crushed under the train and pinned under. The adrenaline got me so fucked up I can’t even think or see properly, my tunnel vision just see him, his shallow breathing and the wedding ring. His family is still somewhere and thinking where is dad. I pull and pull and say come on man. Why am I talking to a dead guy? Can he even hear me?
I can’t think straight, I can’t believe this is happening. This doesn’t look real to me. And people are filming me. Watching me, all wanting to see the police fall.
This fucking cunt won’t budge and I remember he is trapped under the wheel. The paramedics come and touch him and say he is dead. I was still trying to pull this fucker out and he is dead.
I decide to leave him. I can’t drag him without ripping his body. I tell Jamie to clear out all the fuckers filming, yelling and screaming. I see this one blonde woman standing there looking at me. Her eyes are wide open, horrified and she is in shock. Not shock like you see a rat in your house or a shock where you realise you have been sacked from your job. Shock as in seeing a man jump in front of a fucking train and his life suddenly snatched away as he is crushed and rolled under the train.
Okay, this guy is dead. But I have a problem where there are 2 opposing sides of traffic banked up. It is peak hour and the trains have stopped with hundreds of people stuck on the train still. I yell at Jamie, “Get the crime scene tape up and get all these fucking cunts back NOW”.
Jamie, it is his first job runs off and tries his best to use his police powers to tell people to get back. I climb up to the train and see the train driver. She is young, Latina looking and her eyes are horrified and eyes open.
She was still looking ahead, frozen in her seat and unable to move. I had to shake her for her to look at me. She keeps saying, “I didn’t…I didn’t have time…”
I say to her, how do I unlock these fucking doors? She keeps saying, “I didn’t have time”. I tell her to give me the emergency key, NOW. She looks at me finally. She starts to laugh as she is crying. Her mouth is open but she is not laughing from happiness, she is laughing at the surreal out of body experience she is having. I have never heard a laugh where I had goosebumps and fear. This laugh imprinted in my soul.
When people jump in front of trains, train drivers are trained to duck to avoid seeing the death. Yet she didn’t have time to duck and saw this man jump out of nowhere and jump under the wheel. She just had time to slam the emergency brakes. But when you do that, all the doors suddenly lock and only one key unlocks it.
It is 6pm and all the commuters are coming home. I grab the master key. The fire brigade have turned up with a ladder. I drag this fucking heavy ladder to the first carriage, unlock it and force the doors open.
I see all these commuters sitting there, some have figured out what has happened. But lo and fucking be hold there were these 2 rough looking guys that were smoking on the train and smoking a joint. The anger, the adrenaline, the injustice, the casualness. One of these rats say to me, “What happened” in the most condescending tone. I march right up to his gaunt face, his ugly, drug ridden face and I stared into what shred of soul he had left and whilst gritting my teeth I told him, ‘Put that fucking joint out, you fucking smoking on the train?” He sees the look in my eye and quickly stubs out the joint and lowers his eyes.
I turn to the commuters and tell everyone this is an emergency and to assemble in a single line and hop off the train. Everyone sits up at once and line up. There is no talking, no laughing. I tell them if you haven’t guessed already, we have a train suicide.
Some quietly say to me that you don’t get paid for what you do, another say thank you for your service. They are all meekly staring at me. I look at myself in the glass. I got the 1000 yard stare. I just had someone die in my fucking arms I want to scream, yell, hurt someone and I am expected to repress my emotions, my feelings under this body armour, this fucking body armour and this badge.
All the people exfil out of the train. I run back and the detectives have turn up with more police units. The scene is locked down.
Three hours of crime scene went by. The jack comes to lift the train up and they peeled this dead guy off the tracks. I turned my body away not wanting to look at it.
The scene is closed down, we are released to go and the other police units will slowly refurbish the scene.
I get back into my car and the radio dispatcher gives me another job, “St Kilda Police to attend address of 5 Ruskin St in Elwood for a domestic dispute”. The train driver has 3 days off, mandatory recovery. Yet I have seen 50 deaths and I never remember taking 3 days off after each one.
I drive to 5 Ruskin St in Elwood. Neither of us say a word in the car. I walk slowly up to the house door, my feet are dragging. I still cannot believe I just had some cunt die in my arms. My body is on autopilot. I knock on the door, the door opens and the woman opens the door. She looks me up and down and says, “What the fuck took you guys so long to get here?”