Michael Wallace

 Part Two

Death had taken a holiday. It would not have been thought possible, but Albert finally tired of the orgasm that another’s death provided him. It had been so unrelenting, so constant that the sheer joy had burned his senses.

     The glasses were a permanent fixture now, to the point that he had forgotten what the “real” world looked like. Even if he took them off, the glow of the energy remained for hours, and possibly the rays of light created by these incredible tools of destruction had changed his chemistry.

     Certainly he didn’t need sleep, or even food. The heightened awareness hummed like a battery, powering his whole being with a clarity and focus that for the last three months had completely taken over his existence. Vague questions seemed to occur to him, in that there must have been other Deaths in the wings. There must be others because he barely left this city, and was kept busy 24 hours a day.

     But as much as it was exhilarating, each moment reminded him of the complete state of aloneness he lived within. He used to enjoy the company of children playing in the parks, but he no longer tried to speak to them because occasionally an adult, a grey shapeless creature, would come up and ask what he wanted. Once or twice he felt compelled to answer, trying to wake their small minds, but they would get nasty. So he might lift up their energy to the point that they passed on, or not. At first it was done in the hope of raising their vision to his level, but then he became somewhat spiteful that these minions would dare questions his actions, so they died.

     Unlike those who were truly ready for him, these souls gave him strange accusing glances as they were taken away into the light. Albert felt this was an unwise course to continue, it felt vaguely wrong, so despite the euphoria of deathing, he governed himself to only those ready to pass on.

     This particular night, however, he felt exceedingly alone. It was something he recalled experiencing when he was a shop steward in some distant past life, and he did not like the taste of this aura. It distracted him, depressed him to the point that his work had become less enjoyable and a stain of weariness began to creep in.

     Where was this place? Ah yes, the nightclub near the park … The place where he first realised he was Death. He had coming here looking for a woman, but instead found orgasm and fulfilment in removing souls from their bodies. But then the impossible happened … A woman walked past him, radiant, smiling… She had the aura of a child, the body of snake with curves, and the smile of a movie star.

     My God … He was entranced, fascinated, besotted. It was Love at First Sight. The chords of reason were bent out of proportion in the giddy twisting of Love. He followed her in as she entered the club, and entered a world long forgotten. The throb of the beat and the sinews of dancers rubbing against him reminded him of a distant humanity, a place, a zone he had once almost occupied as the mere the Albert, the shadow who sat in the shadows.

   He lifted the glasses, resting them on his forehead. The swirling pulsating light of the music running through the bodies of all on the dance floor lingered, and that was when the impossible happened. The rhythm took him, took his body, and moved it in ways he had not thought possible. Dance was his religion, rhythm was his God and in the distance, the Goddess he had dreamed of all his life was waiting, watching.

     He was a life of itself as the music ran up and down the nerves, reminding him of the incredible joy of being merely human once more. Slowly he made his courtship, quietly, with sheer confidence brimming form his cup, he held her eyes as he made his way across the dance floor. My God, he felt impressive.

    As he pulsed to the beat he came up to her ear, and whispered, “You are a radiant light, a being of love, a creature of the universe. I am death, I am finality, I am the cause of all freedom.”

     Never being one for pickup lines Albert had no idea if what he said was right or wrong, but it was perfectly as he saw things. Somehow it worked. The woman smiled with a radiant, beaming welcome, shaking her head in astonishment, saying nothing. It was so perfect, so sublime.

     Outside he could feel the birds grow silent in their dreams, and the night sky waited. He had become a God, aware of all things, yet perfectly focussed on this moment. He was a part of consciousness, and all awareness flowed through him… he was power, he was ruthless yet he was kind, he was gentle yet he could be cruel. He was peace amidst chaos even as he was the liberator of madness.

     “Your very breath is fire,” he said to her.

     “Hello stranger! Great line.” she said … Still smiling.

     “You are the perfection of woman, the end of existence, the beginning of everything. You are the chosen, the Queen, the honey that draws the bee.”

     Albert felt a rough hand push him. “Piss off loser” a course voice said. Looking up, Albert, still with glasses up on his forehead, saw a huge grey shape had moved between he and the woman. “Who the do you think you are wimp… Trying to chat up my woman right in front of me. I am gonna break your face, Toad.”

     His glasses fell from his forehead back onto his nose, and Albert saw this angry black energy shot with crimson coming at him. “You are nothing to me.” he said flatly, knowing his power to remove, and feeling it swelling under his skin.

     “Listen up F..ckwit. If you wanna be able to continue walking let alone talking, shift your arse out of my sight NOW!” The grey creature was angry. Flares of crimson were blazing forth from where his eyes would have been, trying to burn whatever was in front of them.

     For Albert it was a fly attacking a cat. He was the butcher, and this was the meat. It was a ghost, a nothing, a wastrel and no more words or energy was to be wasted upon it. Peering into the grey mass before him, Albert saw the avarice, the greed, the need to dominate play itself out in patterns. The brutal father, the weak mother, the entire wasted breath that was this strutting peacock’s life. “I am not your problem, you are.” He said.

     “Take off yer glasses sh..t fer brains and I’ll show you a f..cking problem!” The man leaned forward and lifted up his glasses… How dare he? That was when Albert realised that he was dealing with a huge man, a bodyworker the size of a Mr Universe. He stepped back, the glasses came back down, and the Ghost resumed his proper vapid form.

    “You have nothing to offer me. You have nothing to offer the world. You imagine you can own this creature of exquisite beauty, yet she knows what you are. You yourself are nothing but flesh without intelligence, grace or respect for life. This woman is so far beyond you, and you are too stupid to realise that she had already left. She does not belong to you, she belongs to ME!”

     And with this last word, a striking vehemence came from Albert, something he had never known before. His energy focussed, raised itself up in a way different to his gift of death, and it surged through him like a mirror reflecting the rage of his assailant. The blur of power energy that came from this last word swatted the ghost to one side like a sack of feathers, allowing Albert to gaze at the beautiful woman before him.

    Her eyes went wide with astonished admiration. Such a small little man, yet with such power. He was so completely different with his quaint way of speaking, and she felt strangely drawn to him. Her heart beat faster, her lips swelled, her palms started to sweat with anticipation.

     Albert took her into his arms. “You are magnificence, why play with these jesters and fools? Do you not want your death to embrace you, to caress you, to free you from the pointless existence of these mortals?”

     The woman could hardly breathe. The focus of energy around her had entered into her being, and was vibrating her very atoms. Life seemed everywhere, the walls reverberated, and the music took on colour that played out through the darkness of the room like a conductor instructing the orchestra. My God, this was the most incredible man she had ever met.

     Albert saw the point of acceptance. He could feel her heart join his, yet he had to pause. He had to be certain it was real so he took off the glasses to look her directly in the eyes. Yes, it was love, he saw love there like he had never seen before. She was radiant with love to the extent that he did not even need his glasses to know it, to feel it, to be part of it.

    Here was his everything, his dream, his goal of existence. She was the IT, the one. Foreverness sang all about her, the truth of being rang like a bell when he was near her. Here was the woken amongst the sleep walkers, the truth, the light.

     “Your lips beckon and shine like a mist that dreams of the touch or its lover. Your heart beats with the melody of ancient instincts, a primordial passion that sends shivers through my Soul. You are the one. You are my Eve, my first, my last and everything in between” He stated, clear, clean, crisp, simple.

    Even without the glasses she was a radiant being. He was intoxicated, gone for all money with Cupid’s arrow.

     “Well …” she was about to speak, but Albert saw that the gathering of her thoughts dulled her being. “No,” he said putting his finger to her lips… How he adored those lips. “No, say nothing. Just feel… feel this moment. Feel the power running through the atoms…”

    The woman could barely breath. She had never experienced such an incredible intensity. Who was this odd little man, the one who could swat aside the world heavyweight champion as if he were a fly on the wall? This incredible, strange person had her fixed like a rabbit in the spotlight, and she loved it. It was if he could see into her soul, ripping apart any distance she once held. Intrigued, terrified, fascinated she said “I need some air… Can we go outside?”

    “Absolutely,” Albert exclaimed, feeling his triumph. His heart was being struck like an anvil as they made their way across the room. Memories of his human life began to come back to him, wisps of thoughts of the miserable child that lived in the twilight of his dreams, that sad little Albert who could have never hoped to catch a fish as fine as this. The Green Glasses came back to his nose, an absolutely certainty now governed every move, every action he took. Perfection, harmony and rightness flowed through every step. Nothing could stand before him and not be humbled. He was magnificent, completely in charge. There was nothing he could not deal with, no dream he could not fulfil.

     As they stepped outside, several large, grey shapes came up, protesting something about causing trouble and now being dealt with. The girl seemed frightened… No, this must not be. “Let me show you just a little of what it is like to be with me, your Death.” said Albert.

     He allowed the familiar to flow. The first of the bouncers coming at him stepped directly into the charged air, and Albert saw him being lifted violently from his body and cast into the shadows… crushed. Dead. The other bouncers stopped in their tracks, he could taste their fear, and it felt good.

     Then on instinct, on sheer impulse, Albert did an odd thing. He wanted her to know everything, he wanted her to realise the power, the magnificence he could show her… So he put the glasses on her nose, and said “See life as I see it my beloved.”

      “This is incredible!” the girl exclaimed…. “The whole of the night is ALIVE, everything is ALIVE and connected to everything. This is just unbelievable… Hey stranger! Where have you gone?”

     “I am right here my beloved… Right here beside you. Always I will be beside you!” At last, the perfect wife, the perfect one for him. At last someone who could share his every moment, and be part of his incredible power. But it seems she did not hear him.

     “Stranger?” the girl called out “Where have you gone? I know you are about here somewhere… Stop hiding, OK? … Man these glasses are something else… Everything is so amazing.”

     She started to walk away. Albert went to follow, but his feet were like lead and she was the breeze. “I am here beloved … Right here!” he screamed… But she did not hear. She walked away, calling for him, and soon left him far, far behind. He kept screaming, running frantically after the beloved and his glasses… his beautiful green glasses. The exertion and the fear were stealing the beauty from the atoms, the night was closing in, and the blackness started to descend. Quaking with horror, Albert realised he was becoming a mere human once more.

     His breath frosted in the cold night air, and staggered beneath the weight of his loss, Albert looked up and realised he had run back to the park, the place where all this had begun. A curious familiar gnome was staring at him. “Do you see the problem now, Albert… can you truly see at last?”

     The next thing he remembered was the cold hard black of a policeman pinning him to the ground, and handcuffing him as he was bundled into the back of a patrol wagon. The black aura was sucking the last of the life out of him, and slowly he drowned in the mire of convention once more.

     “Jesus” the officer behind the deck filling on forms said “They are trying to tell us that this little runt put away the world heavyweight champion with a single backhander, and killed an 18 stone bodyguard without so much as a knife. That’s just bullsh’t. What sort of drugs are they serving in these places now-a-days.

     “Where’s the damn girl he is supposed to have kidnapped? We don’t need this sort of crap. Piss the guy off, and call the coroner and find out why the bodyguard died.” said the sergeant, already angrily dealing with the next one in line.

     “He’s got no ID,” protested the other officer… “We don’t know who he is, or where he comes from, and these clothes were stolen a few months ago from an upmarket shop in town.”

     “Look at him you wanker. A bum found some fancy clothes in a bin, decided to get all dressed up, and got himself into a nightclub. For F..cks sake, he doesn’t even have any money. He couldn’t even buy himself a drink. Piss him off NOW!”

    And so Albert, a total shadow of his former self, was cast out into the street, and wandered back to the park where it had all started. The arresting officer, watching him walk away, said to his associate as they closed the door. “Man, I have seen some weird ones, but he is the top of the damn fruitcake.”


     After a few years Albert was let out of the asylum. He was given a ticket that said he was sane; some clean clothes; a few dollars; and set upon the street. There were never any charges pressed. No one believed that a 120 pound weakling could have done anything like what happened in the nightclub, and it was generally believed someone must have spiked the drinks.

     The girl was never seen nor heard of again, but then a lot of women disappear on the streets of Chicago at night. Albert was considered a low risk, and though chronically depressed he no longer appeared suicidal. When asked by the doctors if he still had those thoughts, he simply said “You can’t kill Death”

     Yes, he was looney all right, but no great risk and the bed was needed. It meant just another harmless loon for the streets. So it was that Albert tasted freedom again. Standing there, breathing the night air that used to once be so sweet, feeling the moist cool breeze blowing off the park, Albert almost laughed. Instead he cried… He cried for what was lost, and for the extraordinary life he had left behind.

    His friends became the alcoholics, and they loved his amazing stories about Albert once being death. It all made for a fabulous night’s entertainment, and finally amidst his new world his stories gave Albert back some of the light he once possessed.

    Then, one evening near a night club, someone called out to him… He looked up, and grew very quiet. A woman wearing Green Glasses was waving to him… “You know her? She seems to know you.” said one of his friends…

     “Don’t know her, but I know her business …” he said quietly. “I don’t want to know her … and believe me… Trust me … neither do you.”

Copyright Michael Wallace 2008


Michael Wallace was a Commercial Writer "till I got bored to death", he then booked concerts, organised the Golden Age magazine  and generally bought and sold real estate ... "Anything to avoid a 9 to 5". Of note: At the time this story was written he had been suffering the long term effects of the Hong Kong Flu. This turned out to be the earliest known version of the SARS virus (1975 area) ... At age 20 he was 7 1/4 stone, fitted girls 24" jeans, and looked like a heroin addict. Apparently he was already supposed to be dead, as he had barely eaten in 2 years...

"Writing a story a night is what kept me alive. I am lazier now!" - Michael Wallace

To know more about this extraordinary man visit one of his websites:

Current publications relevant to your area

Current Activity relevant to you guys