Chapter One - The Conflagration

It was a usual Saturday afternoon for the outer regions of Washington State, considering the forest was always peaceful and secluded, with the nature, and solemn trees. It left one in a complacent state, almost ethereal to think about it. No notion of the outside world really existed here. Just solitude and obscurity, one would often have existential debates as to why everything was here, why the trees stood as they were, why the grass was as it is, why it was all being destroyed by loggers in an attempt to appease consumers for a capital industry. Damon thought of these things oft, and wondered with intense neuroticism as to the outcome of the forests future. He had lived here for some time more than three years, and it struck him that one day, these trees and this land would be raped for the exchange of paper currency that would be spent on things not need by people who didn’t deserve it. Such is the way of life, he thought. 

Everything he loved was gone nature was all that he had left, his last mistress, his last lover, his last remorse for a dying and cruel world. Suffering and pain are commonplace in his life, more so than what is already set by the standards of society, he will never have what he once did, and he will never regain what once was; that part of his life is over now – and it always will be. Damon’s family had left him many years ago, it was always very peculiar how it all occurred, he had arrived home from work and the house was empty, no one was around, the cars were all still parked in their perspective places, the house left intact, they were just gone. The police found it suspicious at first but just assumed that there had been domestic problems and that Damon’s wife had left him and took the kids. Months had passed and he still had heard nothing, detectives at the local precinct narrowed it down to a few things, maybe she left the country, maybe his wife changed her last name. 

Whatever happened Damon never found out and was left with empty answers from the local law enforcement inspectors. He tried to move on as best as he could, leaving his old life, quitting his ramshackle of a job, and moving to Washington State, just outside of Aberdeen, in a small remote town localised in the forest. It had always been his vision to become a best-selling author so he took up writing to forget his pain, although it didn’t help any more than the anti-depressants he choked down every night with an eighth of whiskey. Today was a usual day for him, he was outside looking upon the nature with awe and callous all at once, he loved the nature so, but he envied how at peace everything was. He wanted that peace. He would never find it, no matter how hard he tried, he was dead and somber on the inside, nothing but a harsh remorse remained, even he would be impervious to Freud’s psychoanalysis. Large families of mountain quail were soaring above in the great blue abyss; he often wondered how it would feel to have the freedom of the open sky. Don’t think too hard, you do that too much, just calm down and remember your breathing, don’t let depersonalization take hold. ‘Time to go inside I suppose, need to calm down’. He said to himself. As Damon walked to the cabin he looked over at the fire pit he had made a few months back for sitting outside on the cold, dank, lonely, nights with his liquor and prescription medication induced delirium. He remembered attempted overdoses and unsuccessful suicides and the everlasting feeling of self-contempt and lack of self-worth. He missed his family more than anything and he didn’t even know what occurred while he was working that day, no trace was left behind, nothing was taken everything was left as is. Almost like they completely vanished off of the face of the Earth. Stop thinking about it you can’t change anything now, just go inside and continue your writing. 

Damon wrote to pass the time, to pass the time of what he felt was endless, days felt like months, months felt like years, and years felt like decades. When one endures so much everything bears down on you and it never seems to end, which is why he felt inebriation every so often was applicable and justifiable to his needs. As he walked through the doorway his black Labrador Simon approached him with the usual excited and optimistic manner that he always has, to Damon, Simon was everything his last companion and his only family. He would be even more so dreary without him, Simon had been the only one left in the household when Damon came home, at least she didn’t take him, he thought. They never usually left each other for long, both relied on one another for company. ‘Come on Simon let’s get you something to eat’. The canine quickly reacted and marched to his bowl, while Damon was getting his food the feeling of nausea was taking over his body. I need to get my meds, this is too fucking much – He usually became nauseous from his anxiety, his companion noticed and winced at him. ‘Hold on mate I’m coming, here you go’. When he was finally done with nurturing his dog, he sat down at his decade’s old typewriter. He had been working on several screenplays, as that is how he made his living, he wrote for the local playhouse, those pretentious fucks can never get off my ass about the deadlines, better get busy. As he was typing the Prozac and Xanax he popped started to kick in, and so began his euphoria, to him it made the pain – and the typing much easier, it made everything much easier...

He was writing a play about an old man that owned a villa, the old man’s villa was vacant, vacant like Damon’s heart. The old man – Cyrus was his name, his wife had just died and his son was always at conflict with him over living alone in the dilapidated building, and so the story was based off of the tension and uneasiness, and loneliness the old man felt, familiar Damon? ‘Oh shut up’. He said to himself, he often spoke to himself, considering that and the dog were the only ways he maintained his sanity. Damon started to become dizzy and disorientated, he began to assume that maybe he had overdone it this time with the meds.

Not this again, ugh I need to be careful I don’t want to overdose, or do I?

He got up quickly, too quickly, which caused the blood to rush to his temples.

‘Ah shit, this is not good’.

As he was trying to stagger he grabbed the chair and fell to the ground, and like that was out cold.

Damon, wake up Damon.

‘What? Who’s there?’

Damon, you need to get up Damon,

‘Please, my head hurts honey leave me alone, give me a minute.’

‘Wait..’

DAMON WAKE UP I’M BURNING ALIVE DAMON.

Damon looked up to see what was going on with blurry vision. 

‘Cecilia! What’s happening?!’
And then Damon awoke to Simon, giving him a nudge against the noggin.