The Velveteen Elvis
By me
Chapter 1
Emptiness is all that there is. In every direction not a hill, not a ditch can be seen. Everything is an eerie white, like a fog, only you can see for miles in every direction. Miles of nothing except a lone figure lying face down , unmoving. A finger twitches and lays still, then the head of the man moves slightly. The man is fat and lays prone, ass up in the air like he slumped forward while he was on his knees praying. Perhaps that was what he was doing. Perhaps a prayer was the last thing to go through his mind before before this.
Time passes. He is not sure how much time like when you sleep through a drunk, when 10 hours passes in the blink of an eye or the brief second before a terrible accident that lasts forever in perfect clarity. As his mind focuses so does the landscape. Though still hazy there are outlines and transparent figures. Every muscle of his being is on fire. Every breath excruciating pain but sweet like milk. He pushes himself up resting his matted thick black hair on his pudgy forearms while resting on his elbows and knees. His stomach almost touches the ground and deep from within his belly thunder rolls and, like lava, black bile erupts from his mouth. It keeps gushing out until the white landscape is darkness. Until even the air itself is thick and acrid. No longer is he on the ground but floating in an oily embryonic fluid. His once shiny white jumpsuit is now black and again this lasts an eternity. Somewhere in the darkness a faint light far in the distance winks, then another and another until it seems like he is floating in space surrounded by stars. Only then can he think enough to form a coherent thought. Where am I? he thinks and instantly a voice inside his head yet all around him answers. You are between.
This frightens him, shakes him to the very core of his being. He still ca not remember who he is or was. But his next thought continues , between what?
Between life and what comes next, the voice echoes.
So, Im dead, he thinks to himself. Then he sees a flash or rather the flash comes from inside his mind, a memory, as quick as a blink, of a beautiful woman with long black hair holding a gorgeous little blonde girl. They were both laughing and then it was gone. He doesnt know why but then his soul ached to the bone. He knows he knew who they were but it hurt him deeply that he couldnt remember. It hurts him more than not knowing who he was. What comes next? he thinks but this time there was nothing. No answer. No voice.
No longer was he floating in darkness or even remembers where he just was. Now he is a little boy running down a long dirt round lined by large green trees that just kept going for miles. He stops running, not because he is winded or scared but something caught his attention. He looks around but can only see trees. No, it wasnt something he saw, it was something he hears. Strange noises in the trees that call him and he runs towards the sound. The closer he gets the more he can hear it is music, music from a piano. Somewhere in him he knows he isnt supposed to be here. He is forbidden to come here. But that doesnt stop him. That has never stopped him before. He pops out of the woods and into a row of houses that are dilapidated, worn grey from the sun and rain. Four or five houses down from him he hears the music. He hears the music from a run down shack right on the corner of where two dusty roads meet. A bare tree in the front yard claws at the sky, the only dead tree for miles. He darts behind the houses so as not to be seen and creeps up to the back window of that house. The music is strange and it pulls at him. The chords are unlike any he has ever heard. They are dark and mysterious, they rattle around inside him and settle in his stomach. He inches his way up to the window, paneless, and starts to peek over and see who is playing when, Elvis! comes a cry from behind him. He startles like a jack rabbit as a black woman runs toward him with her dress bunched high in either hand. Your mamas gonna kill you if she see you here! Elvis!
Elvis, and that revelation snaps him back into the void. I am Elvis. And then his entire life comes flooding back into his consciousness. The joy of being a star, of living like a legend, made him whole again. He gets a rush like he did when he used to be on stage, when he used to be alive and he could feel the blood coursing through his body. He remembers struggling as a young man, of telling his mama that he was going to be somebody, somebody that she could be proud of. He remembers playing county fairs and practicing his guitar day and night. He remembers making it big and living larger than anyone he has ever even heard of. He remembers all of this and then the pain. The pain hit him hard. He remembered who the woman and the child were. Oh God, he thought. Priscilla, and then he wept. The tears fell and created enough land for him to stand on. A small platform floating in the endless void, he got down on his knees and wept for every sin and with every one the stars dimmed a little until it was near black. One thing stopped them from blacking out forever. One thing made Elvis grasp on for just a little longer, Lisa-Marie, he said and passed out.
What he awoke to find was quite different than what he was used to, if you really can get used to floating in nothingness. Elvis, now Elvis again, sits in a giant library. What the? he begins but is quickly overcome by a thousand, Shhhh! es.
So, what comes now? he asks to no one, to the only one he knows is listening.. The only one he hopes is listening. Judgement? Okay, I am here. Judge me. Tell me if my soul is as light as a feather or whatever it is you do. The words do not echo nor do they travel beyond his own ears. So what am I supposed to do? he yells into the void. The area about him begins to shift and he is now sitting on a bus stop bench dressed like a contractor. This is odd, he thinks to himself and turns to the woman sitting next to him. She is wearing a pink dress with a white apron and a name tag that says, Dunkin Donuts My name is Dorothy.
Maam. Elvis says and gives her a nod and a smile. Is this bus mighty important? he asks her.
Why, I dont believe it is any more important than the next one, she answers. Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?
Im not sure, he says back. I think I am supposed to do something.
You look familiar, she says. Do you come into the shop? she asks.
Which would that be? he asks. Dorothy points over her shoulder with her thumb and right behind them is the Dunkin donuts where she works. Ahh. No maam, he says.
Say, I could get home a little later and no one would miss me. How bout I buy you a cup of joe and a do-nut? she asks him.
Well, I cant remember the last time I ate or drank anything. I dont know if I can but Ill give it a shot, he answers her and they both get up and walk to the door. Right when they are about to enter the bus driver suffers a stroke and the bus careens into the exact bench that they were sitting on only to be stopped by the telephone pole ten feet down. Elvis lets out a holler, hot damn tamale Charlie! Right then Elvis sees himself from above and pulls farther and farther away until he is back once again in limbo. Later that week Dorothy would sell her story to the national enquirer and the following day the front cover would read, Elviss ghost saved my life.
By me
Chapter 1
Emptiness is all that there is. In every direction not a hill, not a ditch can be seen. Everything is an eerie white, like a fog, only you can see for miles in every direction. Miles of nothing except a lone figure lying face down , unmoving. A finger twitches and lays still, then the head of the man moves slightly. The man is fat and lays prone, ass up in the air like he slumped forward while he was on his knees praying. Perhaps that was what he was doing. Perhaps a prayer was the last thing to go through his mind before before this.
Time passes. He is not sure how much time like when you sleep through a drunk, when 10 hours passes in the blink of an eye or the brief second before a terrible accident that lasts forever in perfect clarity. As his mind focuses so does the landscape. Though still hazy there are outlines and transparent figures. Every muscle of his being is on fire. Every breath excruciating pain but sweet like milk. He pushes himself up resting his matted thick black hair on his pudgy forearms while resting on his elbows and knees. His stomach almost touches the ground and deep from within his belly thunder rolls and, like lava, black bile erupts from his mouth. It keeps gushing out until the white landscape is darkness. Until even the air itself is thick and acrid. No longer is he on the ground but floating in an oily embryonic fluid. His once shiny white jumpsuit is now black and again this lasts an eternity. Somewhere in the darkness a faint light far in the distance winks, then another and another until it seems like he is floating in space surrounded by stars. Only then can he think enough to form a coherent thought. Where am I? he thinks and instantly a voice inside his head yet all around him answers. You are between.
This frightens him, shakes him to the very core of his being. He still ca not remember who he is or was. But his next thought continues , between what?
Between life and what comes next, the voice echoes.
So, Im dead, he thinks to himself. Then he sees a flash or rather the flash comes from inside his mind, a memory, as quick as a blink, of a beautiful woman with long black hair holding a gorgeous little blonde girl. They were both laughing and then it was gone. He doesnt know why but then his soul ached to the bone. He knows he knew who they were but it hurt him deeply that he couldnt remember. It hurts him more than not knowing who he was. What comes next? he thinks but this time there was nothing. No answer. No voice.
No longer was he floating in darkness or even remembers where he just was. Now he is a little boy running down a long dirt round lined by large green trees that just kept going for miles. He stops running, not because he is winded or scared but something caught his attention. He looks around but can only see trees. No, it wasnt something he saw, it was something he hears. Strange noises in the trees that call him and he runs towards the sound. The closer he gets the more he can hear it is music, music from a piano. Somewhere in him he knows he isnt supposed to be here. He is forbidden to come here. But that doesnt stop him. That has never stopped him before. He pops out of the woods and into a row of houses that are dilapidated, worn grey from the sun and rain. Four or five houses down from him he hears the music. He hears the music from a run down shack right on the corner of where two dusty roads meet. A bare tree in the front yard claws at the sky, the only dead tree for miles. He darts behind the houses so as not to be seen and creeps up to the back window of that house. The music is strange and it pulls at him. The chords are unlike any he has ever heard. They are dark and mysterious, they rattle around inside him and settle in his stomach. He inches his way up to the window, paneless, and starts to peek over and see who is playing when, Elvis! comes a cry from behind him. He startles like a jack rabbit as a black woman runs toward him with her dress bunched high in either hand. Your mamas gonna kill you if she see you here! Elvis!
Elvis, and that revelation snaps him back into the void. I am Elvis. And then his entire life comes flooding back into his consciousness. The joy of being a star, of living like a legend, made him whole again. He gets a rush like he did when he used to be on stage, when he used to be alive and he could feel the blood coursing through his body. He remembers struggling as a young man, of telling his mama that he was going to be somebody, somebody that she could be proud of. He remembers playing county fairs and practicing his guitar day and night. He remembers making it big and living larger than anyone he has ever even heard of. He remembers all of this and then the pain. The pain hit him hard. He remembered who the woman and the child were. Oh God, he thought. Priscilla, and then he wept. The tears fell and created enough land for him to stand on. A small platform floating in the endless void, he got down on his knees and wept for every sin and with every one the stars dimmed a little until it was near black. One thing stopped them from blacking out forever. One thing made Elvis grasp on for just a little longer, Lisa-Marie, he said and passed out.
What he awoke to find was quite different than what he was used to, if you really can get used to floating in nothingness. Elvis, now Elvis again, sits in a giant library. What the? he begins but is quickly overcome by a thousand, Shhhh! es.
So, what comes now? he asks to no one, to the only one he knows is listening.. The only one he hopes is listening. Judgement? Okay, I am here. Judge me. Tell me if my soul is as light as a feather or whatever it is you do. The words do not echo nor do they travel beyond his own ears. So what am I supposed to do? he yells into the void. The area about him begins to shift and he is now sitting on a bus stop bench dressed like a contractor. This is odd, he thinks to himself and turns to the woman sitting next to him. She is wearing a pink dress with a white apron and a name tag that says, Dunkin Donuts My name is Dorothy.
Maam. Elvis says and gives her a nod and a smile. Is this bus mighty important? he asks her.
Why, I dont believe it is any more important than the next one, she answers. Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?
Im not sure, he says back. I think I am supposed to do something.
You look familiar, she says. Do you come into the shop? she asks.
Which would that be? he asks. Dorothy points over her shoulder with her thumb and right behind them is the Dunkin donuts where she works. Ahh. No maam, he says.
Say, I could get home a little later and no one would miss me. How bout I buy you a cup of joe and a do-nut? she asks him.
Well, I cant remember the last time I ate or drank anything. I dont know if I can but Ill give it a shot, he answers her and they both get up and walk to the door. Right when they are about to enter the bus driver suffers a stroke and the bus careens into the exact bench that they were sitting on only to be stopped by the telephone pole ten feet down. Elvis lets out a holler, hot damn tamale Charlie! Right then Elvis sees himself from above and pulls farther and farther away until he is back once again in limbo. Later that week Dorothy would sell her story to the national enquirer and the following day the front cover would read, Elviss ghost saved my life.
And that is a reallllly long journal entry.