Conversations

Conversation No. 1

"So how long has he been like this?"
"A few weeks, ah, since his wife died."
"Hm?"
"Yeah it was tragic. Car outta nowhere, she didn’t feel a thing."
"So he scrawls all of those things, that rubbish and rot on the walls."
"Little truths."
"Hm?"
"Yeah, me and the others call them that. All of them…well…"
"What?"
"…All of them have come true… so far."
"What?"
"Well look, that one tells the closing numbers of a few stocks. The market just closed ten minutes ago, and they are exactly right."
"And he wrote them when?"
"Yesterday morning."
"Hm?"
"Yeah, I made a mint. I put in my two weeks like twenty minutes ago."
"Before the numbers came in?"
"Like I said…he hasn’t been wrong yet. So I took a chance and it paid off."

"Huh…where does he get the pens?"

"He first came in, screaming, kicking. He bit my hand…see?"

"Nasty."

"Yeah, hurt like crazy, well we threw him in the cell. After a few hours he was calm. I was bringing him dinner, and he asked for a pen instead of food."

"And you just gave him one?"

"No, I was afraid he’d stab me with it."

"Well grounded fear."

"Yeah, but he asked again and backed against the wall, his hands on the wall, fingers spread, and he had a look in his eye. I couldn’t say no."

"Nice of you."
"Well it paid off didn’t it. Anyway, see ya. If ya want to talk to him pull that lever there, he can hear you through the opening."

Conversation No. 2

"Hello, Charles."
"That nurse will live happily ever after."
"It sounds that way. I see you wrote it on the wall, so I take it to be true. Can you tell my future?"
"You will die a little tomorrow."
"How do mean a little?"

"…"

"Stop writing for a second and tell me."
"A little death can be worse than a big death."
"What’s the difference?"
"Figure it out."
"Tomorrow. Shall I come and tell you about it?"
"If it pleases you."
"WILL I come and tell you about it tomorrow?"
"Yes, but you knew that already."
"So I won’t die tomorrow?"
"Only a little."

Conversation No.3 (The Next Day)

"Hello Charles."
"You are crying."
"Yes, the little death."
" It took a bit of you, you can never get it back. "
" I know. It is like I’m missing a limb, or…or something worse. A piece of my soul."
" Now you know how it feels to be me."
" I won’t be like you though. I won’t!"
" I know you won’t. See…"
"Yes, I see it on the wall. Did you write that…"
"Yesterday, after you left."
"How…how do you do that?"
" It is what fills the hole of my little death."
"Hm?"
"You will have something of the sort soon enough."
"Do you…"
"Yes, I know, won’t…can’t tell…can’t. "
"Does the hole get filled for everyone?"

"No, just those need it more then others. Some that need to give…"

"Give what?"
"Sleepy now. Don’t take the bus, take a cab."
"All right Charles."
"Your daughter is all right you know."
"She’s DEAD!"
"She is all right."
"DEAD!"
"Dead is all right. No one gets out alive. More dead than alive."
"…"
"It is all right. If you want to join her, take a cab."
"I’m leaving now."

"As you wish. Remember what I said though."

"I will."

Conversation No. 4

"Taxi."