The Contradictite

[Author's Note: This is a strange story. I originally published it in my LiveJournal literary community, indiefiction. I was trying to present a sort of time loop, but it kind of comes of creepy if you read too much into it. It's presented here for completion's sake.] I'm here. I turn around suddenly, looking to see who said that. I see no one. Looking up, I see the illumination of a fading street lamp. In the distance, I hear a faint drip, drip of what I hope are just rain gutters, and no other "gutters," thank you very much. A shudder runs down my spine. I wonder who originated the voice. Shaken, I continue on my trek homeward. The next day, I'm walking down the very same street, and I accidentally bump into an attractive woman. We get to talking, and find out that we have a lot in common. We even lived on the same road. As the days went on, I saw her more and more, until I was sure that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Somehow,

[Author's Note: This is a story I wrote in August of 2001 and published in my literary LiveJournal community, indiefiction. It addresses a lack of identity, and plays with the idea literally. All the same, I was a dumb kid when I wrote this.] "Who are you?" I looked up at the grimy man behind the bar. My hand was holding a pistol, shakily pointed at him. Quickly, my mind raced back as far as I could remember. No one had ever asked me that before. No one had ever cared enough who I was. Worse yet, no one had even told me the answer to that question. Then it hit me, I didn't know who I was. "I," I stammered, "I don't know." All 23 years of my life, no one had ever directly addressed me. No one had ever used my name in conversation. I had no identity. I guess I'm really no one. "I guess I'm really no one." The man just stared at me. "So, as I said earlier," pointing the gun at him with a bit more confi

[Author's Note: This story was originally published on my LiveJournal literary blog, indiefiction in August of 2001. It addresses the nature of self-destructive friends.] I looked down on him. He was dangling off the side of a steep cliff. "Help," he pleaded. I leaned over closer to the edge so he could see my face better. "You got yourself there, you know. I wasn't the one who kept inching closer and closer to the edge. Remember: you removed me from your life. I'm surprised you're even listening to me now. To be totally honest, I never really liked you." I paused, for effect. He still clung. "C'mon, man, just help me out." "How do I know that you won't pull me down there with you? Why should I even bother helping you? You're self-destructive. It's time you learned your lesson. I won't teach you, though. You'll have to teach yourself." Though I didn't smoke, I lit one of his cigarettes and