Trash.demo

by dfkingerperson

Disaster

Vinyl woke up five minutes before ten in the morning. She knew it was exactly five minutes before ten because she had counted out 360 seconds before she opened her eyes and looked at the clock. The fact that she saw the clock at exactly ten on the dot was a small miracle. Well, smaller than a miracle. She would go with coincidence but, it felt like giving too much importance to such a small event. Happenstance? Too highbrow. Chance felt too descriptive. “Twist of fate” made her feel like puking. By the time she narrowed down the choices to ‘fluke’, ‘universal whim’, and ‘a fucking coinkidink’, it was eleven fifteen.

She decided to get off the couch, so she took a half-turn to the left and fell two feet to the floor in a bellyflop. Two weeks ago that fall had shocked her brain so much she would jolt up with a short bout of cursing. Unfortunately daily use of the trick had dulled her enough that the throbbing of her stomach was just a new alarm to ignore.
She did a mental checklist of her body to pass the time. Her mouth was dry, but that was to be expected. She had stopped drinking after six so she wouldn’t piss the couch anymore. You can only flip over a cushion once and getting her couch dry-cleaned had been so much trouble that she decided it was simpler to just go thirsty. Her body felt weak and listless, which was a little weird since she had made sure to force down a big lunch yesterday, but it wasn’t anything worth getting worked up about. By this point she doubted she was going to get up anyway so it all worked out. Her eyes were… open. But her vision was blurry and all she could see from her position on the floor was the tiles of the kitchen. Focusing on them wasn't worth the hassle so she shut them.

She was sad that her tumble didn't put her in a position to see her personal turntable and mixer, as well as the myriad of other equipment she used for her music, across the room. It would have been a shitty vantage point but she might have been able to make out a table leg or something. That might have been worth keeping her eyes open for. But she guessed that that was just how the white mare landed. On her stomach looking at linoleum. Unfortunate.

She thought back to yesterday, one of her most productive days in weeks, when she sat in front of her table, her computer screen flickering next to her, and stared at it. She was completely unable to do anything of course, even after setting a record on her table to spin. She just sat there. And stared. It was soul-crushing, the completely lack of inspiration even while listening to her favorite tune play on repeat over and over and over. The electronic music she had tried to produce while gazing at her laptop's screen was no better. Even when she started putting together a piece (not yesterday, yesterday she had started to sob before she made it that far) it was just a bunch of synthesized instruments playing. It was noise. Not even good noise, the kind you could scream with and dance to. It was just… trash. It filled her with such self-disgust, that inability to do what made her Vinyl Scratch that she usually just started crying. Yesterday she had surprised herself with how quickly she had ran to the bathroom and thrown herself in the tub to cry. The album hadn't even finished its first play-through before she broke down.

She had eventually managed to turn it into a mild positive by turning the faucet on and taking her first bath in a week. Well a soak, technically, but she had knocked some soap into the basin during her rush so she smelled at least a little better. Her sister had always said to look on the bright side of everything. She may have been a complete and utter failure at her only true joy in life, but hey, she was also clean...ish.

She cracked an eye open and looked at the clock. It was eleven twenty-five.

At this point she decided that the day was more or less over and she might as well try and get some sleep. She could always try to not be such a miserable piece of shit tomorrow.

While she was waiting to slip into unconsciousness she decided that she might as well do something productive with the only part of her body that was willing to do any work today. So she thought. Or rather, she thought about thinking for a while and what would be a quicker way to stop it than waiting for her body’s natural processes to do the job. The only ideas she could come up with were lobotomizing herself or dying. She wasn't exactly sure how a lobotomy worked and she was pretty sure she didn’t have an icepick in the kitchen, so that left death. Certainly appealing, if a bit more permanent than she preferred. There would be that awful business of standing up, walking to the kitchen, getting a knife, and stabbing herself in the stomach. Ugh, the stabbing would probably be the worst part. Magic took more energy than she liked nowadays, and summoning enough force to penetrate her body would probably give her a migraine for the entire day. Then she realized that her death would head off that particular downside of her whole suicide plan pretty quickly. So that was nice.

She could also go for slitting her throat. She was pretty sure that her neck would be easier to penetrate than her belly, and it had the added bonus of killing her quicker if she could manage to nick her jugular. All in all it was shaping up to be a pretty good plan. The inconvenience of the initial ‘get up and stab yourself’ part would probably be made up for by the lack of stupid fucking thoughts buzzing around her head while she waited for her body to stop forcing her to be conscious. But then she tried to move her legs underneath her to implement her plan and gave up. Standing up would be entirely too hard. She’d try tomorrow. Or maybe she’d just try to swallow her tongue.
After failing to choke to death on her own tongue Vinyl realized she probably needed help. It wasn't a surprising notion, or even a realization to be honest. She supposed she had always known deep down ever since this funk of hers got started she was pretty much fucked as far as keeping herself going was concerned. Or anything else really. She figured the only reason she hadn't been thrown out of her apartment yet was the fact that she had automated paying her bills years ago. The last two months had more or less been her way of slowing down her date with the reaper. She guessed she had just finally hit the proverbial wall.

Dying was proving hard and her head was feeling sort of foggy, like she might be slipping into sleep soon. She knew that if she fell asleep she would just wake up in a couple of hours with a crick in her neck painful enough to finally get her up. Then she would do some menial chores in order to keep herself alive, and after staring for hours at her tables she would flop onto the couch again and pass out crying. Then the next time she ended up in this situation she might actually summon up enough energy to make it to the kitchen. If she didn't do something now she figured she wouldn't last out the week.

So she bit her tongue. Hard.

Author's Note:

If you have any comments or feedback I would appreciate it. Thanks.

Comments

[Regidar]

I enjoyed this, really. It reminds me of the parasprite's "Gloomy Everyday", except it's a million times better because it uses a good character instead of Lightning Dust.

[nodamnbrakes]

3809940

>be regidar
>be a twist fan
>be claiming to know shit about which characters are better

[Regidar]

3809957 I am not even a fan of twist anymore lel
update ur facts m80

[nodamnbrakes]

3810005

KYsP,R

[dfkingerperson]

3816083
The next chapter is actually about 95% done. Just waiting for a few pre-readers to get back to me about it. I'll try to post chapters in pairs hopefully, since another chapter like the first one will be showing up again. Thanks for the feedback.

(After that I hope I'll be able to do chapters at least weekly, but I'll have to see how my schedule works out.)