PATTERNS

by Michael Lizarraga
  
Synopses: Mr. Louis Arroyo, 29. Occupation: Security Officer. A recovering junkie who fosters a most unusual addiction, yet suppresses it with the most unusual allies. A 'higher power,' if you will. Not the conventional constellations or mystical mists, but faces and figures he finds in the contours and constructs of plastered walls, floor tiles, ceilings, table stains or cemented sidewalks. Any place he could pattern a mouth with a pair of eyes, or a torso with a set of limbs. A wince or a wink or an occasional sound from one of these silhouetted characters; an obsession since childhood he’s always referred to as The Line People. Pals and protectors who have cradled, calmed, cared and, at times, corrected Louis throughout his life.

In a moment, Louise will find out just how real his 'higher power,' The Line People, actually are...

The following is an excerpt from 'Patterns,' a story by Michael Lizarraga published by Bete Noire magazine.

He was aroused moments later by low-soft whispers. Fragmented words, as though searching for a radio frequency. Eyes still closed, he heard a calm, clear quiet voice.

We’re right here beside you.   

The voice could have been a man or a woman’s, and sounded eerily distant and close.

He staggered out of bed, as though drunk.He flicked the light on, and on a blue plaster wall just before his face stood a contour image more apparent than any other 'Line Person' Louis had ever seen. Almost as if looking at a blue abstract painting of an oval shaped, balding head, “Einstein” hair waving behind it. Multiple lines formed what seemed like sagging skin along the face, as though a melting wax figure. The mouth was a small crooked rectangle, cradling three squares resembling piano keys – its teeth. Its eyes stood out the most. Light blue, almost white, like two round hardboiled eggs with little yokes as pupils, staring at Louis as if someone under a spell. 

                                 
The blue face suddenly jutted toward Louis, like a 3D movie, the wall plaster expanding behind its head in a dream-like, surrealistic stretch. Simulating an elastic band, or someone teeth-pulling on a thick, chewy taffy bar. The plastered face came inches from Louis’s, its round eyes gazing into his with its trance-like stare. Close up, the character reminded Louis of The Elephant Man, or a zombie shrouded in a shredded burlap scarecrow mask. The bottom of its square mouth lowered, and with the sound of a distant underwater echo, in a mixture of taunt and condescension, said, Let’s talk. Blood pounded through Louis’s head as if pumps had been shoved in his ears and were trying to suck him dry. Aghast, he couldn’t move other than to tremble.

Again, that calm, quiet voice.
 
We’re right here beside you.                                                                 
                                                                         
                                                                    # # #

For complete version of Patterns, you may purchase issue #12 of Bete Noire magazine at https://www.createspace.com/4411452.

Be sure to Like my website: www.MichaelLizarraga.com.

Please feel free to toss a comment (or question or concern or derogatory remark) on my blog page.