Rage

In spite of certain fantasy elements this story has very close ties to reality

Rage, a city tale

by Larkin

“Juh have any tokens left?”

His hair was half black and half blond. His clothes were tight and uncommon. They were all black. His body was unusually small and waif like. He looked like a strange little kid. I found an extra token in my pocket and gave it to him.

He smiled up at me and said, “Thanks man. Not just anyone would do a nice thing like that, you know.”

His voice sounded sort of feminine and agreeable. We both got on the subway together and he sat right up next to me. He didn’t have to, there were plenty of options. It was a bold move and I was impressed.

Looking more closely at him, I noticed his hands were thin, delicate. On his fingers were a few odd hand-wrought rings of different metals. His face was cute and mischievous. He smiled and continued to talk. The brightest thing in his dark composition was his eyes. They were a strange sort of pale blue that were almost Manson-like. This time when he smiled, I saw them for the first time. His two canines were filed, a la Vampire. I’m sure it was cosmetic but the impression was startling.

Because he sat so close to me, we were able to talk as if we knew each other and not as strangers that had just met. He told me his name was Rage. I guessed that it was a name made up or taken from somewhere else. I told him I lived with my parents on East 2nd and 1st Avenue. My Parents had been threatening to move out of the city for the longest time.

He said he lived between B and C on 4th Street. He seemed pleased that we lived so close to each other. We got off at the same stop and both had a short walk into the East Village.

I told him my name was Daniel and where I was going to school and all the usual stuff. My appearance is not unattractive. I consider myself young, but ordinary. He seemed interested in me, but I thought why? I didn’t like to stick out too much. If anything, he was the interesting one.

Rage said he was an artist and worked in mixed media. I had no idea what that was. When we reached the street where we would have split our journey, he stopped. He looked disappointed that our meeting was over.

He hesitated and then said, “Juh wanna come over? I don’t live far and I‘d kinda like to hang out with you some more.”

I looked towards my destination and thought about all the things that I was supposed to do.

Then I looked at the strange person I had just met and I said, “Ok.”

We continued walking past 1st avenue down further East and then up to 4th. Rage’s place was a five floor walk-up. It seemed like the whole East Village had been slated for renovation. Buildings like his were in limbo. They were intentionally neglected to cause tenants to flee. The building like Rage’s was often called a squat. The hallways were in ruins and some abandon apartments w