One Last Night

One Last Night

The window was not very big but it served a purpose. He looked out at the road below. In the darkness, it looked almost normal. He sighed wearily. He was not sure what he had expected to see. The same mundane scene greeted him.

Cars stood empty and abandoned. Left at bizarre angles where their owners had simply stopped the engine, climbed out of their vehicles and walked away.

He swept the curtain back across the window with a flourish and returned to the modest living room.

He assessed the dim room in front of him with tired eyes.

Humans had many strange habits.

In all the time he had spent among them this was the observation that had stayed with him.

The concept of love was a particularly difficult one for him to fathom. The very idea that these mobile structures of flesh could choose another one and commit to it. There were so many of them, such a wide variety of different types and categories that it seemed so limiting to just have one.

It occurred to him that it was like eating a meal. Savouring and enjoying each mouthful and then deciding that it was the only meal you would eat for the rest of your life. Over and over again. Even the most exquisite taste would become tedious after a while surely.

Other habits were far simpler for him to understand. Some he had come to appreciate, even respect in a strange way.

This thought ran through his mind as he ran his long fingers along the ridges of cardboard. Each of the attractively ordained sleeves contained a black plastic circle decorated with grooves. When one of these discs was carefully removed and placed upon a rotating circle, a small needle applied to the surface would entice music to come dancing out of these grooves.

The music was not always pleasing but the concept still intrigued him.

This particular collection had been taken care of and kept in immaculate order. This he could appreciate. He had a certain level of admiration for such dedication to order in an otherwise chaotic existence.

He settled on the record he had been searching for and gently took it down from the shelf. Carefully and with all the gentle delicacy of a lover, he slid the disc from its sleeve and turned it over in his hands. He blew away a thin layer of dust and cradled the delicate circle tenderly.

He laughed to himself as he pictured the previous owner of this collection doing the same. He had probably paid more care and attention to these objects than he had to the health of his relationships. The idea of committing to just one other person leapt into his mind again and he laughed out loud. Great booming guffaws filled the space, echoing back at him from the high ceilings.

By the time he had placed the record on the old turntable and taken a seat in the large and decadently comfortable chair, the remains of a chuckle still trembled gently deep in his throat. He wiped away a tear as his laughter subsided. Humans. So absurd.

Still, he was willing to admit that their artistic contributions really were something to behold. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be lost in the music. The warm notes ebbing from the speakers, filling the room and lifting him upwards with their invisible glory.

Absent-mindedly he began to strum the air, plucking at an imaginary instrument in time with the music. Silently he chastised himself for not learning to play properly. He had certainly had more than enough time to become a master. Not to mention he certainly had the fingernails.

The music was beautiful, that much he would concede. He very quickly pushed any instrumental regrets from his mind. He would always find time for beauty but he was damned if he would waste it on regret.

Damned. Another human notion that filled him with wicked glee.

This piece of music was particularly affecting. He mouthed the words along with the singer. The soft rhythm teasing memories from him. It made him think of Judith. He pictured her face in his mind. Her lovely full smile that had positively shone. Her green eyes that flitted between kindness and the promise of mischief. Her short dark hair that delicately framed her elfin features.

Of all the humans he had interacted with, he had rather liked Judith. Perhaps there was something to be said after all for the commitment idea. Maybe not forever but he could have comfortably spent a few years with her.

But then what? Eternity? No thank you.

He needed variety; he craved new experiences all the time. He would not have coped well with the sameness of it all. The endless repetition. The boredom.

No, he would not miss Judith.

Music on the other hand. Yes, that was a possibility. He might miss that.

He was brought back to the moment by the realisation that he had been mouthing the same phrase repeatedly. The clicking sound and jarring rhythm had completely spoilt his moment of contemplation.

He pulled himself to standing and glided across to the record player. They could create the art but the technology was lacking. He watched the needle jump repeatedly on a barely perceptible imperfection and listened to the vocalist repeat the same half-finished phrase over and over. He briefly considered allowing the record to continue in this vein indefinitely, amused by the idea of leaving the musicians in a state of endless limbo.

With a hideous scratch he dragged the needle across the record, removed it from the platter and with a brisk movement, he snapped the plastic into tiny small pieces. Crumbling the pieces in his hands, he allowed the pieces of black dust to float to the carpeted floor.

He looked down at the remains. Even in these unusual circumstances, he was annoyed with himself for making a mess. He considered fetching a dustpan and brush from the kitchen and cleaning up after himself. He very quickly dismissed the notion. He was not going to waste what little time he had left tidying up. The mess would have to stay. It was trivial compared to the mess that he had created in the hallway anyway. He had no intention of sorting that out.

That would take far more than a brush and dustpan.

He glanced up at the curtain. Morning was coming. He should at least try to enjoy the rest of the night before it arrived.

He stepped deftly across the room and stood in front of the old wooden cabinet. Another human creation that he could admire. Intricately carved and decorated beautifully. A shining example of a skilled carpenter.

Whoever had owned this house certainly had taste.

This was confirmed when he reached across and opened the ornate door to the cabinet. Reaching in he pulled out a crystal decanter and an intricately designed matching glass.

He held the glass in his hand and enjoyed the weight as it settled in his grip. Little things, he thought to himself. He placed the glass down on the smooth wooden surface. With skillful fingers, he removed the stopper and poured himself a large glass of the transparent brown liquid.

Raising the glass to his thin lips, he took a large drink. The liquid burned in his mouth, an undeniably pleasant pain. For such limited creatures they had created some ingenious methods of ensuring pleasure was part of their short lives. Ingesting a poison on a regular basis for social and recreational reasons seemed an insane concept on paper. But he had to admit it was a wonderful invention and not one that he would have thought of himself.

He poured himself another glass. Not because he needed to, because he wanted to. He did not need to ingest anything really anymore. That did not mean he could not still enjoy it.

He examined the smooth glass of the decanter.

The reflection of the room sat indifferently on the surface. The room looked fine. Other than the dark shape slumped by the doorway there was nothing unusual about it. Tastefully decorated, modern but classic.

The most notable aspect of the reflection was his absence from it. He considered Judith again.

He was without doubt a stylish man, everything about him gave off the air of one who took a great deal of pride in his outward appearance.

The truth now was slightly different however. At this moment, he had no idea how he looked. He could observe that his clothes were immaculate, his hands and nails clean and manicured. He could run his hand across his chin and feel the rough stubble that had settled in.

His hair though? He could touch and feel it; he could run his hands through it. In the last few hours, he had already run a comb through it repeatedly in an attempt to tame the wild unpredictable strands. This was an area where Judith had come in handy. Each day he would dress himself and then make himself comfortable. Judith would then brush his hair, gently wash his face and maintain his facial hair. Sometimes he would be bearded, sometimes not. That depended entirely on her mood.

In her own way, she had made his appearance her personal project. Her feeble attempt at maintaining a reason for her existence.

Thoughts of Judith were becoming more persistent. He noted this with some irritation and very quickly ejected her from his mind. Regrets were a waste of time and energy.

So he could no longer control his appearance. Was that really of any importance? What exactly was the point of making yourself look presentable? If there were no other people to see you then what really would looking fabulous actually achieve?

A cracking sound and a sharp pain distracted him. With a surprised wince, he realised that he had crushed the glass in his hand. Large shards of glass had embedded themselves into his flesh, stinging intensely as the remaining spirit slipped into the wounds.

He hissed with pain as he pulled the shards from his cuts. Blood dripped onto the wood, tarnishing the craftsmanship. He held up his hand and watched with dry amusement as the ugly gashes healed up, closing like flowers until only light creases remained. These in time would disappear entirely and leave his pale skin flawless and untouched.

With annoyance, he looked at the broken glass and the blood that was gradually seeping into the wood.

More mess.

With a sigh, he took out another glass and poured himself a final drink.

He swirled the liquid in the glass before finishing it. He savoured the burning sensation one more time before silently placing the glass down.

What did he feel? Was he angry? Was he experiencing something as banal as sadness?

More than anything, he was irritated. He was annoyed. He had been on this planet for so long amongst these people and grown accustomed to their ways. He had accepted a very long time ago that the very nature of his existence brought with it an unavoidable loneliness. His kind were known to carry a sense of melancholy that betrayed their otherwise decadent and indulgent lives.

He was irritated because the whole sorry scenario was so predictable. So damned inevitable. Of course the humans wouldn’t last. Of course they would bring about their own downfall. Utterly laughable.

Their end had been something of an anti climax.

He had gracefully accepted his fate but he was beyond furious that it had not been in any way his fault. He had wanted to go out on his own terms instead of being brought to his knees by humans and their stupidity. Humans and their ignorance.

Their arrogance.

He turned and stepped away from the drinks cabinet. Never one to complain about the hand he had been dealt he had decided that the end actually would be on his terms albeit slightly different to how he had originally envisioned it.

One last walk through this house. He walked through the living space and stepped around the shape blocking the doorway. He felt a pang of nausea as he glanced down.

They even tasted different now. The few that had survived at least.

He used to be able to consume with relish, to enjoy the necessary evil that ensured his existence. But since this had all begun they had acquired a tang, a bitter taste. The taste of infection.

He looked down one last time at the place where this one’s face had been.

“Sorry about your record”, he whispered with a grimace, “and your glass.”

The building itself was small and modest. He was able to make his way around fairly quickly. He started with the staircase, the tatty beige carpet having seen better days. It felt worn and thin as he stepped on it. He savoured the feeling however, wanting to imagine how it once would have felt against his bare feet. Instead, he simply damaged it with his shoes.

He stepped quickly past the bathroom, not wanting to look inside. No matter how long he had been here, he had never gotten used to the disgusting activities that occurred in there. One time he had stepped in to find Judith engaged in an activity that was so alien to him that he physically recoiled at the memory.

Judith. There she was again. He cursed her silently for weaseling her way back into his head.

He passed the nursery. That was also a mess. No need to revisit that scene.

Finally, he reached the bedroom. Well maintained and welcoming. A large double bed took up most of the space. It was neatly made with the top of the duvet turned down in a pleasant manner. The dark brown duvet cover gave the room a warm feel and complimented the crimson walls. He sat on the edge of the bed and took this in. Another detail to appreciate. Humans had their place.

Behind the heavy red curtains, he could see the tell-tale signs that time was running out. Tiny shafts of light were starting to creep through, little golden beams slicing through the darkness. He studied them with genuine fascination. He reached his hand up to touch one with all the wonder of a child. As his fingers played through the light he felt the burning begin, smoke began to gently drift from his fingertips. The pain went from light to searing in a few seconds and with a tight frown, he pulled his hand away and slipped it into his clothing.

He resisted the urge to study the damage. What possible good would seeing the burns do now?

Silently he made his way back down the staircase and stepped into what was probably his favourite room in the house.

In the home they had shared, he had always loved to watch Judith cook. He could not eat the food of course but he was greatly impressed by the skill that went into the preparation.

It was probably the skill he had grown to admire the most in humans.

This kitchen was small and functional. A small wooden table sat to the right of the door. A plate of unfinished food sat on a tablemat. An unfinished glass of red wine perched next to it. He touched the meat on the plate and pressed it down gently. Juices oozed out of the meat onto the plate. Still a little warm. It could stay there.

He stepped out into the hallway. Grim faced he took in the carnage that faced him. It really was a horrendous mess in here.

If there were anybody left, he would pity whoever would have to clean it up.

He would have to be careful not to get his shoes wet. Not that it really mattered. Nevertheless, he still had standards.

With one last sigh, he walked toward the front door and to the fate that he could no longer avoid.

Without looking down, he stepped over Judith.

He reached out and took hold of the old door handle. With a creak, he turned it. The door swung open.

As he stepped outside to experience his first and last sunrise, he shed some gentle tears.

For those first few seconds before it took hold he really did experience its beauty.

Truly exquisite.