((This is a fragment of Malachi's travels as Nameless. To get a better understanding
of this piece, go here.))
In Denny's, hopelessly lost in New Mexico. 3:49 am. 12/20/89
Its funny the little things we collect from each other, road weary reminders
of adventures, lands, and friends that we may never see again. Its so rough
out here, so insane and scary on societies fringe, that those few decent people
you meet are like jewels. We keep little things on chains close to our hearts,
in a vain hope that we will never lose that person. We show everyone our little
collections and tell our stories like runaway Bards. We are the Lore-masters,
traveling from city to city weaving a modern day epic. Our baubles are tangible
evidence of our tales. As I pulled all the shit from my jacket, I marvel at
what I have acquired, the simple things that make up my existence, that mean
the world to me.
A silver band from Jasper… She gave it to me in the back of 7-11 when
I gave her my last cigarette. It was a present from her brother for her birthday,
and she loved it. I didn't want to take it, but she made me. And then LaVey
found her later that night. The silver ring with the square black stone from
Trace that he stole from Hot Topic for me in New York. The red, black, green,
and blue friendship bracelet Finch has been making this whole godforsaken trip
through the southwest. It's a little too big and slides up and down my arm or
droops limply at my wrist. A baby bracelet with pink hearts and white-and-black
block letters that spell 'Lost Boy' from Zephaniah. He stole the beads from
a sewing store and strung the beads on a cord made from pieces of our hair and
string from our jackets. All of the Lost Boys from that summer have one. I saw
Skittles and Random last time I was in California and they both still had theirs.
I have the silver pocket watch I stole from the rectory when I left that godforsaken
orphanage. I never have been able to bring myself to pawn it, even when I was
in dire need of cash. Its just too beautiful. I'm surprised it's never been
stolen, considering how many times I've been jumped. My black bangle bracelet
from Nix. I bugged her so much about how pretty her bracelets were she finally
gave me one after we were making out one night in Central Park. And then those
crazy bums came and chased us off and we were so surprised, I forgot to zip
my pants and she left her bra there and Trace and Sapphire laughed so hard at
us. My pink bangle bracelet from Bubbles and the blue one from Sapphire, because
they said Nix's bracelet looked so lonely on my wrist. The silver puzzle ring
I got from Lucky in Ontario. He gave it to me because he thought I made a cute
face, the tip of my tongue stuck out of the corner of my mouth and my eyebrows
all scrunched together, as I tried to figure it out. My poison ring with the
silver on black pentagram from Star and the silver pentagram with the red jewels
from her boyfriend Dusty. They both gave me that for good luck when I left New
Orleans to go to Texas.
The chain and the tiny lock that I wear around my neck. Grenade still has the goddamn key, and I still have the key to his necklace. I also have one of the keys to Raine's handcuffs on a hemp choker she made. She gave it to me because I liked her handcuffs so much. She made the choker while we squatted in San Francisco for a month. She was always measuring me for it and almost choking me. The broken pearl necklace Chance found on the sidewalk in Chicago. He strung a few pearls on thread for everybody. Grenade finally got me and Kay chains he stole from a street vendor because we whined about how tacky the pearls looked. The sweetest present ever, a pearl handled straight razor from Chance, who understood about blood and need. The tiny carver wooden skull that Sky made (I didn't know he could make anything so goth...) The blue plastic teddy bear that is filled with bubbles from Bubbles herself. We would dance in the park under the stars, blowing bubbles and running through greats clouds of them, while everybody looked at us and laughed. God, I miss central Park....the shiny stone I found there one day while we were skipping rocks and HAD to keep. Its been in the top left pocket of my jacket ever since, even though its in two pieces now, because I got pushed down the steps when those punks jumped us. Oh god, don't even let me pull out the contents of my pockets. Slips of paper with barely legible notes, shells, a pacifier, a hot wheels car, a ripped copy of Beyond Good and Evil, a tube of black lipstick that is almost used up... this shit is my world. I don't have anything other than what I can carry. Its depressing sometimes, but I don't know if I want it any other way. I am free. I can go anywhere and go anything, if only I can use my wits to get me there. I have seen more at 13 then most people see in their whole lives. I have found America waiting for me with open arms and cold roads and rancid coffee. I am more educated than anyone I know, thanks to an endless stream of library cards and used bookstores. I may not know things like American Revolutionary History, but I know British Literature, Philosophy, and how to find food in the middle of the THRICE DAMNED FUCKING NEW MEXICO DESERT!!!! But at the same time, i DON'T know American History and a million other things that I would have learned in school. I don't have a home, or clean clothes, or a family. I have no steady income, I live moment to moment. I have no future bey9ond forty more years of this. It is a lifestyle that will take me in the end. I have made it out here longer than most people I know, but at what price? I've sold so many of my meaningful possessions, I've sold myself for food and drugs, and then sold my food for more drugs. The Pigs have torn my few friends and pseudo-family out of my loving grasp and I am the poorer for it. i am left her with battered mementos adorning more even more battered body instead of being with these people. I will be 14 tomorrow. I don't know if I will see 15. I didn't expect to live this long. It is an adult thought. I don't even realize I am supposed to still be a child. My childhood was over the day my parents left me on those stone steps. Since then, I have been forced into adulthood, into making choices no 14 year old should have to make. Do I leave Finch and everyone and strike out on my own up north or stay with this insane bunch until it kills me? Can I leave my friends again, to be alone and scared and HUNGRY again? If I don't, there idiocy may well kill us all. But I may die on my own too. Happy fucking birthday. I'm taking a fork to make into a bracelet to remember it by.
Nameless
Copyright me 2001