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Hell is other people
I’ve met death. It was not a physical death, mind you, not one you could find on a battlefield or in a hospital. This is not the tale of a veteran who has saved his brothers in arms from the enemy by carrying them for several miles while he is trying to dodge mortar attacks. This is not the sad and tragic story of a cancer patient who learns to accept his illness, his family watching him getting sicker and sicker and feeling helpless. This is the journey of a simple man who has faced the void of humankind. It was the death of the soul, when emptiness is the only feeling that fills your heart and oblivion has not enough mercy to end your suffering. Your mind is screaming, “Flee! Flee as far away as you can!” but it’s too late, you are trapped with no escape.
It all started when my friend invited me to spend a few days at his place. Living in the country, I’m quite used to the charming peace of my detached house but it had been a long time since I saw him. So I decided to put aside my disgust for the big cities and my love for wide-open spaces to make the trip to his small flat downtown. I’ve never understand how some people could live in such cramped places without going mad. Maybe you have to be born here.
After one hour and half of a free-incident trip, I was before my friend’s flat and I must say I was quite impressed. It was the first time I came to a big city and even with its fifteen storeys, it was the smallest of the neighbourhood. All around it, the buildings were trying to go higher than the others, casting huge shadows on their poor neighbors. It seemed than the sun never reached them and I took pity on the residents who were forced to constantly live in the dark.
I typed the code my friend gave me on the electronic device next to the door and it opened.
Here is another thing that bothers me. Many people complain about housebreakers so why would someone lock a door with something so easy to know? I may have many locks on my doors but I never use them and no one has never stolen me anything so far. I guess this is another benefit of living in the rural area. Maybe these people believed, when they had installed it, that it would give them some kind of power on their life. I must confess I felt a bit like a child before a cartoon when I saw the magic of technology in action and I could have watched it open and close for a long time. But I was here for a reason and I did not want to be late.
As I entered the building, I heard someone yelling behind me “Please hold the door sir!”
I turned my head and saw a forty-year-old man desperately trying to run despite his weight. His gait gave me the impression of an obese pig who struggles to stand and walk the few steps towards his trough, simply to get even more fat. As I watched him getting closer, I noticed he was profusely sweating and thought that it was quite foolish to put himself in such a state just for catching a door.
Indeed, every time I watch my contemporaries, the factory workers, the powerful men full of their stature, the small administration employees, I see them struggling, running after their lives, trying to fill the hollow in their heart. And suddenly, it stops, without more meaning than when it has started and they all become equal before death, regretting they have not taken a break at least once to gaze at the beauty our world has to offer.
“Th-thank you,” he told me in a short breath once he had achieved the run of his life.
To be honest, I hadn’t done anything. Even if wanted to, this was an automatic door and there was nothing that I could do to prevent it from closing but it seemed that the poor man wasn’t aware of this fact. Being raised as a gentleman, I replied that it was nothing.
I left him here and walked with firm steps through the hallway to find the elevator which would bring me to my friend’s floor. I saw there were two and understood that one only led to the even floors while the other led to the odd ones. As I push the call button of the latter, I heard the man’s footsteps. He placed himself next to me, waiting in all likelihood the same elevator than me.
While we were waiting for our lift, I was feeling anxiety slowly creeping in. I didn’t know why at the moment but I can now say it was certainly because of my misanthropic nature. I was in an unknown environment with a stranger whereas I usually invite my friends at my place. Having a weak constitution, I rarely leave my home. Some would call me a little bit sensitive but I always saw myself as a delicate flower.
Hoping my trouble didn’t show on my face, I took a look at him and, apart from his thick moustache, his profile revealed nothing out of ordinary, nothing that could say he was feeling better, or worse, than me. I now understood that I should not expect anything from this ordinary man, any tenderness or attentions which make up the appeal of friendly forest walkings. From my side, I was not feeling driven towards him at all. We were probably not from the same milieu and I could not imagine sharing with him my passion for Grand Crus or lace, and my scorn of football or stewed chicory.
Our ride finally arrived and I lent my arm to let him enter first. I followed right behind him, trying to fit inside the small cabin and careful to avoid any physical contact with my new travelling companion. I was about to push the button labelled “7” when my fellow had the same idea and our hands met halfway. How could I describe the embarrassment assaulting me as I quickly pulled my hand away? The memory of the conversation that followed still plunges me into depths of shame.
“Oh,” I said.
“Ah,” he replied.
“Sorry,” I added.
He tittered.
“Which floor?” he asked.
“Seventh,” I replied.
“Me too,” I said tittering too.
I tried to cut short the awkward moment by pressing the wretched button and our ascent began. I thought my suffering had ended or somehow been assuaged but I felt, around the first floor, that he was staring at me. So I decided to stare back, in order to force him to look away, which he did in a swift motion that instantly made him look at the ceiling. I was torn between feeling guilt or pity for us, knowing very well there was absolutely nothing to see on the ceiling, all of this adding to our situation which was already ridiculous in itself.
In order to ease the discomfort I was feeling and he was probably feeling too, I started to hum the first notes of Carmen. Alas! This parody of human being had once again the same idea. He started to hum the Moonlight Sonata in a shy but unfortunately audible whisper. The resulting outrageous cacophony stroke me right into the heart. I felt overwhelmed by a wave of existential despair while we were around the fourth floor. All feelings of love were abandoning me and human brotherhood suddenly seemed more and more improbable. Is there anybody or anything out there to put an end to my misery?, I thought.
My heavy companion had to feel some discomfort as well because he talked around the fifth floor.
“Nice weather we have don’t you agree?”
The weather. Of all the topics he could think of, he had dared to choose the weather. The more I was interacting with him, the more I was looking for a way out but unfortunately, all access were locked. I was trapped with him, forced to listen to the inevitable flow of common places that would soon follow his first sentence. However, a stroke of genius came to my mind and I felt a little boosted. I even dared to compare myself as brilliant as Archimedes for a moment.
“I couldn’t tell, I’m not from here,” I replied with all the contempt I could fit into my voice.
I saw on his face he was mentally collapsing from my unexpected answer, which forbade any pursuit to this atrocious parody of conversation. A sigh of satisfaction escaped my lips but still wanting to be a gentleman, even in this dire situation, I tried to spare the poor guy and make my sigh look like a cough. And because a gentleman never cough without covering his mouth, I raised my hand.
What sheer folly to believe for an instant in etiquette! Halfway through my motion, my hand accidentally collided with his large stomach, which made him instantly turned around in a self-defence reflex. Given the narrowness of the cabin, and despite the delicacy and the seriousness of our suits, this man and I found ourselves in a rather tricky posture. I was facing his back and our hips were only separated by an inch.
Even though I usually rejoiced in my stable heterosexuality, I addressed prayers to all gods I knew to spare me the utmost shame of an unwitting erection, something likely to happen every time two human bodies touch each other. Such a manifestation of my blood pressure would only make the situation of our duo even more ludicrous, knowing that we were about to reach the seventh floor! The mere thought of spending any more time with this man, should it be only a second, had become unbearable. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear apart those metal walls which seemed to come closer and closer. I wanted to roll up into a ball and cry in a corner but they were all out of my reach, given the man’s corpulence. I could only contemplate my tragedy.
Against all odds, while I had lost hope in salvation, we landed. The elevator’s doors opened and I saw a pure light, blinding me with the freedom it promised. Forgetting my manners for a moment, I exited first, taking a huge breath once I was in the corridor. I felt I was born again, overwhelmed by bliss. A bliss I could have shared with my companion if only he had not been the source of all this. However, the joy of being finally free made me forgive him. I could not really hold a grudge against him; fate had put both of us in this cabin.
I walked towards my friends’ door on my right but, before I could reach it and knock, I heard my cell phone ringing, giving me notice of a new text message. Oddly enough, the man’s phone rang too a few seconds later. I pulled out the device and read it.
I look up from my phone and met the other man’s eyes. Seeing his phone in his hand I understood he was the one my friend wanted me to meet. I was looking for some paintings to redecorate my study and my friend had told me he knew an art collector who had some to sell. I saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, showing he had drawn the same conclusion than me. We exchanged a smile before a dreadful realization came to my mind.
We had to take the elevator again!
It all started when my friend invited me to spend a few days at his place. Living in the country, I’m quite used to the charming peace of my detached house but it had been a long time since I saw him. So I decided to put aside my disgust for the big cities and my love for wide-open spaces to make the trip to his small flat downtown. I’ve never understand how some people could live in such cramped places without going mad. Maybe you have to be born here.
After one hour and half of a free-incident trip, I was before my friend’s flat and I must say I was quite impressed. It was the first time I came to a big city and even with its fifteen storeys, it was the smallest of the neighbourhood. All around it, the buildings were trying to go higher than the others, casting huge shadows on their poor neighbors. It seemed than the sun never reached them and I took pity on the residents who were forced to constantly live in the dark.
I typed the code my friend gave me on the electronic device next to the door and it opened.
Here is another thing that bothers me. Many people complain about housebreakers so why would someone lock a door with something so easy to know? I may have many locks on my doors but I never use them and no one has never stolen me anything so far. I guess this is another benefit of living in the rural area. Maybe these people believed, when they had installed it, that it would give them some kind of power on their life. I must confess I felt a bit like a child before a cartoon when I saw the magic of technology in action and I could have watched it open and close for a long time. But I was here for a reason and I did not want to be late.
As I entered the building, I heard someone yelling behind me “Please hold the door sir!”
I turned my head and saw a forty-year-old man desperately trying to run despite his weight. His gait gave me the impression of an obese pig who struggles to stand and walk the few steps towards his trough, simply to get even more fat. As I watched him getting closer, I noticed he was profusely sweating and thought that it was quite foolish to put himself in such a state just for catching a door.
Indeed, every time I watch my contemporaries, the factory workers, the powerful men full of their stature, the small administration employees, I see them struggling, running after their lives, trying to fill the hollow in their heart. And suddenly, it stops, without more meaning than when it has started and they all become equal before death, regretting they have not taken a break at least once to gaze at the beauty our world has to offer.
“Th-thank you,” he told me in a short breath once he had achieved the run of his life.
To be honest, I hadn’t done anything. Even if wanted to, this was an automatic door and there was nothing that I could do to prevent it from closing but it seemed that the poor man wasn’t aware of this fact. Being raised as a gentleman, I replied that it was nothing.
I left him here and walked with firm steps through the hallway to find the elevator which would bring me to my friend’s floor. I saw there were two and understood that one only led to the even floors while the other led to the odd ones. As I push the call button of the latter, I heard the man’s footsteps. He placed himself next to me, waiting in all likelihood the same elevator than me.
While we were waiting for our lift, I was feeling anxiety slowly creeping in. I didn’t know why at the moment but I can now say it was certainly because of my misanthropic nature. I was in an unknown environment with a stranger whereas I usually invite my friends at my place. Having a weak constitution, I rarely leave my home. Some would call me a little bit sensitive but I always saw myself as a delicate flower.
Hoping my trouble didn’t show on my face, I took a look at him and, apart from his thick moustache, his profile revealed nothing out of ordinary, nothing that could say he was feeling better, or worse, than me. I now understood that I should not expect anything from this ordinary man, any tenderness or attentions which make up the appeal of friendly forest walkings. From my side, I was not feeling driven towards him at all. We were probably not from the same milieu and I could not imagine sharing with him my passion for Grand Crus or lace, and my scorn of football or stewed chicory.
Our ride finally arrived and I lent my arm to let him enter first. I followed right behind him, trying to fit inside the small cabin and careful to avoid any physical contact with my new travelling companion. I was about to push the button labelled “7” when my fellow had the same idea and our hands met halfway. How could I describe the embarrassment assaulting me as I quickly pulled my hand away? The memory of the conversation that followed still plunges me into depths of shame.
“Oh,” I said.
“Ah,” he replied.
“Sorry,” I added.
He tittered.
“Which floor?” he asked.
“Seventh,” I replied.
“Me too,” I said tittering too.
I tried to cut short the awkward moment by pressing the wretched button and our ascent began. I thought my suffering had ended or somehow been assuaged but I felt, around the first floor, that he was staring at me. So I decided to stare back, in order to force him to look away, which he did in a swift motion that instantly made him look at the ceiling. I was torn between feeling guilt or pity for us, knowing very well there was absolutely nothing to see on the ceiling, all of this adding to our situation which was already ridiculous in itself.
In order to ease the discomfort I was feeling and he was probably feeling too, I started to hum the first notes of Carmen. Alas! This parody of human being had once again the same idea. He started to hum the Moonlight Sonata in a shy but unfortunately audible whisper. The resulting outrageous cacophony stroke me right into the heart. I felt overwhelmed by a wave of existential despair while we were around the fourth floor. All feelings of love were abandoning me and human brotherhood suddenly seemed more and more improbable. Is there anybody or anything out there to put an end to my misery?, I thought.
My heavy companion had to feel some discomfort as well because he talked around the fifth floor.
“Nice weather we have don’t you agree?”
The weather. Of all the topics he could think of, he had dared to choose the weather. The more I was interacting with him, the more I was looking for a way out but unfortunately, all access were locked. I was trapped with him, forced to listen to the inevitable flow of common places that would soon follow his first sentence. However, a stroke of genius came to my mind and I felt a little boosted. I even dared to compare myself as brilliant as Archimedes for a moment.
“I couldn’t tell, I’m not from here,” I replied with all the contempt I could fit into my voice.
I saw on his face he was mentally collapsing from my unexpected answer, which forbade any pursuit to this atrocious parody of conversation. A sigh of satisfaction escaped my lips but still wanting to be a gentleman, even in this dire situation, I tried to spare the poor guy and make my sigh look like a cough. And because a gentleman never cough without covering his mouth, I raised my hand.
What sheer folly to believe for an instant in etiquette! Halfway through my motion, my hand accidentally collided with his large stomach, which made him instantly turned around in a self-defence reflex. Given the narrowness of the cabin, and despite the delicacy and the seriousness of our suits, this man and I found ourselves in a rather tricky posture. I was facing his back and our hips were only separated by an inch.
Even though I usually rejoiced in my stable heterosexuality, I addressed prayers to all gods I knew to spare me the utmost shame of an unwitting erection, something likely to happen every time two human bodies touch each other. Such a manifestation of my blood pressure would only make the situation of our duo even more ludicrous, knowing that we were about to reach the seventh floor! The mere thought of spending any more time with this man, should it be only a second, had become unbearable. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear apart those metal walls which seemed to come closer and closer. I wanted to roll up into a ball and cry in a corner but they were all out of my reach, given the man’s corpulence. I could only contemplate my tragedy.
Against all odds, while I had lost hope in salvation, we landed. The elevator’s doors opened and I saw a pure light, blinding me with the freedom it promised. Forgetting my manners for a moment, I exited first, taking a huge breath once I was in the corridor. I felt I was born again, overwhelmed by bliss. A bliss I could have shared with my companion if only he had not been the source of all this. However, the joy of being finally free made me forgive him. I could not really hold a grudge against him; fate had put both of us in this cabin.
I walked towards my friends’ door on my right but, before I could reach it and knock, I heard my cell phone ringing, giving me notice of a new text message. Oddly enough, the man’s phone rang too a few seconds later. I pulled out the device and read it.
Hello
I’m sorry I won’t be at home, something unexpected have cropped up. Let’s meet at the restaurant down the street. The restaurant is the one with the big neon sign, Nation’s cannons. You can’t miss it.
And if you come across Francis, pass on the message so that he won’t have to run around.
See you later!
I look up from my phone and met the other man’s eyes. Seeing his phone in his hand I understood he was the one my friend wanted me to meet. I was looking for some paintings to redecorate my study and my friend had told me he knew an art collector who had some to sell. I saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, showing he had drawn the same conclusion than me. We exchanged a smile before a dreadful realization came to my mind.
We had to take the elevator again!
This wasn't bad, a few syntax/grammar errors but apart from that, solid writing.
While the concept was interesting, I don't share the views the author is attempting to portray, so it's difficult for me to find it especially engaging. But, that is in no way a criticism of the work, just my personal preference!
I liked the little twist at the end, made me smile.
AAIQU
While the concept was interesting, I don't share the views the author is attempting to portray, so it's difficult for me to find it especially engaging. But, that is in no way a criticism of the work, just my personal preference!
I liked the little twist at the end, made me smile.
AAIQU
I, too, rue how society hasn't reached the point where social interactions aren't confined to the strictly necessary and even then, just amongst those who seek it.
I've found that hiding behind a mask of faux-interest with traces of eager proactiveness works just fine.
But I digress. This was an engaging character analysis about a situation that is oddly specific and yet remains relatable in its absurdity.
I've found that hiding behind a mask of faux-interest with traces of eager proactiveness works just fine.
But I digress. This was an engaging character analysis about a situation that is oddly specific and yet remains relatable in its absurdity.
This was super awkward, so excellent job there.
Threw me a bit; normally, 'giving someone your arm' is, like, letting them lean on you or something so you can escort them, and that... really doesn't seem to be in character here. Not to mention if you give someone your arm, it's hard for them to go first; you're kinda linked?
Anyways, I'm no longer someone who's very awkward with social interaction. However, I remember being that way at one point, so I do empathize with this somewhat. It got a laugh or two out of me, and I think you did a good job of conveying that atmosphere. It's not super deep, but it is very well done for what it is.
Nice work!
I lent my arm
Threw me a bit; normally, 'giving someone your arm' is, like, letting them lean on you or something so you can escort them, and that... really doesn't seem to be in character here. Not to mention if you give someone your arm, it's hard for them to go first; you're kinda linked?
Anyways, I'm no longer someone who's very awkward with social interaction. However, I remember being that way at one point, so I do empathize with this somewhat. It got a laugh or two out of me, and I think you did a good job of conveying that atmosphere. It's not super deep, but it is very well done for what it is.
Nice work!
I like the idea of taking a mildly annoying situation and blowing it so ludicrously out of proportion, and you really did sell the awkwardness of it all. Good job on that!
I'm afraid that I wasn't a big fan of the writing, however. Not only is there a good spot of editing to be done here, but the narrator's voice never quite clicked with me. I feel like you were going for turn-of-the-century (Oh god, it's 2017 and I need to specify which "turn of the century" I mean now, don't I? Good gravy. Anyway, not y2k) conscientiousness, but it sounded affected rather than natural. Even if it'd been spot-on, though, I'm going to venture that I think this story would be better off told in a more modern vernacular. You want to make this encounter feel as uncomfortable as possible, after all, and using any sort of "period voicing" is going to make the character feel that little bit more distant. Everything you can do to make your reader feel like they're right there in that elevator, you should do it!
I'm afraid that I wasn't a big fan of the writing, however. Not only is there a good spot of editing to be done here, but the narrator's voice never quite clicked with me. I feel like you were going for turn-of-the-century (Oh god, it's 2017 and I need to specify which "turn of the century" I mean now, don't I? Good gravy. Anyway, not y2k) conscientiousness, but it sounded affected rather than natural. Even if it'd been spot-on, though, I'm going to venture that I think this story would be better off told in a more modern vernacular. You want to make this encounter feel as uncomfortable as possible, after all, and using any sort of "period voicing" is going to make the character feel that little bit more distant. Everything you can do to make your reader feel like they're right there in that elevator, you should do it!
As I read through this, I kept thinking of a number of other stories I've read in the past, such as The Turning of the Screw or The Last Days of Pompeii. It has a certain old-timey air to its manner that can be nostalgic at best and dull at worst. This one landed in a curious middle ground in that regard. I think in this aspect >>Chris and I are on the same page, because I don't think it really helped the story as a whole. That's not to say the writing style is bad, I just don't think it works well in this circumstance.
Hm. Interesting piece here. It's clunky, and the protagonist is thoroughly unlikable, but both of those are clearly intentional. I called the twist end pretty quickly, but I don't think it's so obvious that most readers would do the same. So I think the author accomplished what they set out to do, with about 90%+ accuracy. So, props in that regard, and because of that I don't have a lot in the way of specific critiques or suggestions for improvement. But were the goals actually good things to aim for...?
To me, I'm afraid the answer is more no than yes. An intentionally painful story is still painful, and cringe humor... well, I don't want to say it's completely bad, but you at least have to give the audience someone to root for. In the original treatment for FRIENDS, Joey was a sincerely mean-spirited bully. That show would've been awful! Playing him as awkward but well-meaning turned the character around and made it a hit. Or WataMote, if you're more on the anime side - it only works because we can sympathize with Tomoko and root for her. I can't root for this protagonist, and I can't root for Francis either since he's not developed. So the humor falls flat.
Thank you for writing, though! An interesting and probably educational experiment, indeed.
To me, I'm afraid the answer is more no than yes. An intentionally painful story is still painful, and cringe humor... well, I don't want to say it's completely bad, but you at least have to give the audience someone to root for. In the original treatment for FRIENDS, Joey was a sincerely mean-spirited bully. That show would've been awful! Playing him as awkward but well-meaning turned the character around and made it a hit. Or WataMote, if you're more on the anime side - it only works because we can sympathize with Tomoko and root for her. I can't root for this protagonist, and I can't root for Francis either since he's not developed. So the humor falls flat.
Thank you for writing, though! An interesting and probably educational experiment, indeed.
There's a solid pass of edition to be done to iron out tense shifts and other numerous oddities that pave the text. For example, we get the impression the flat is fifteen storeys high, which would be pretty impressive for a single flat! :P
The story in itself is fairly linear, but the escalation (so to speak) was fun, if not slightly contrived. But nice job in conveying the reason why I absolutely shun elevators!
The story in itself is fairly linear, but the escalation (so to speak) was fun, if not slightly contrived. But nice job in conveying the reason why I absolutely shun elevators!
Usually, I reply to each comment individually but this time I'm feeling lazy.
>>All_Art_Is_Quite_Useless
>>Ritsuko
>>Zaid Val'Roa
>>Not_A_Hat
>>georg
>>PaulAsaran
>>Ranmilia
>>Monokeras
I thank every one of you nonetheless for your time and your comments. I challenged myself pretty hard with this story because it's somehow between a translation and a rewrite of a comedy sketch by Pierre Desproges. It was a challenge because his way of talking is full of 'pretty words' as Quill would say, with very long sentences. That's the main reason for the tone that could seem off by some of you, because I have still troubles with writting with a consistent tone. Moreover, the challenge was also on the tenses. The narration starts with the present but when the narrator tells his story, the tense switch from present to past.
But my main goal is achieved. Some of you have found the story funny and I couldn't ask for more. In fact, I didn't want it to have more. I feared that, because of the prompt, almost all the stories would be sad and dark. I wanted to lighten up the mood with a funny story. It might be a weak or a cheap goal but that was still my goal nonetheless.
About the fact that the narrator isn't likeable, I was playing on the ambiguity of an unlikeable character and a situation we have all probably lived but it seems I didn't handle that very well.
PS: By the way, please keep in mind that the author's view and the narrator's view are two different things. I don't agree with almost all the comments the narrator has made.
>>All_Art_Is_Quite_Useless
>>Ritsuko
>>Zaid Val'Roa
>>Not_A_Hat
>>georg
>>PaulAsaran
>>Ranmilia
>>Monokeras
I thank every one of you nonetheless for your time and your comments. I challenged myself pretty hard with this story because it's somehow between a translation and a rewrite of a comedy sketch by Pierre Desproges. It was a challenge because his way of talking is full of 'pretty words' as Quill would say, with very long sentences. That's the main reason for the tone that could seem off by some of you, because I have still troubles with writting with a consistent tone. Moreover, the challenge was also on the tenses. The narration starts with the present but when the narrator tells his story, the tense switch from present to past.
But my main goal is achieved. Some of you have found the story funny and I couldn't ask for more. In fact, I didn't want it to have more. I feared that, because of the prompt, almost all the stories would be sad and dark. I wanted to lighten up the mood with a funny story. It might be a weak or a cheap goal but that was still my goal nonetheless.
About the fact that the narrator isn't likeable, I was playing on the ambiguity of an unlikeable character and a situation we have all probably lived but it seems I didn't handle that very well.
PS: By the way, please keep in mind that the author's view and the narrator's view are two different things. I don't agree with almost all the comments the narrator has made.