No one knew his house was blue
or that Gabe was all by himself.
The forgotten middle child who would go days without speaking, how he had become so lonely was no longer important. No one had even bothered to ask, it was as if the universe had simply deemed it so. A fly doesn’t ask why it is born in shit. And Gabe never wondered why he was born in the rocky mountains of Morgantown, West Virginia. He was the same as anything else on this Earth—
… And oh-so-blue. He breathed. He ate. He went to school and pretended like he was applying for colleges as he lied about SAT scores and older girls. And then went home, tiptoeing past his inebriated oak of an uncle who smelled of an oddly pleasurable mix of peanuts and gin, and making his way to the little closet space of an attic known as his room.
The room was shitty to say the least—but Gabe never needed much to exist.
He just stayed in there… all day. Looking out of the only blessing this decrepit space was willing to give, a flat, screened-in 24-inch window.
The normal onlooker could poke his head out the window to see all of what the great state of West Virginia had to offer: the dead sky stretching far and wide, like a large cadaver on a stainless steel table. And pleasant historical shacks where pale people with bottomless eyes lived, the faint smell of steel and rust, and occasionally a glimpse of some sweet WVU ass.
But not for Gabe. For Gabe, it gave him more.
It even spoke to him sometimes, begging him to leave the darkened world of his genesis. “Gabey,” it said. “I’m waiting, Gabey.”
When he looked out that window, he could go anywhere he wanted. Be anything he wanted. He peered into its depth and every hope,
and every desire came to fruition.
To be stationary is to rust rather than shine. And Gabe wanted to shine.
Sometimes he’d be a maverick warrior from a long journey, the envy of every man as he is welcomed with women. Other times, he’d be a brave knight of many trials, feasting amongst a royal lot.
And occasionally, when the window acted oh-so-kind, he’d be the king of great power and prowess, one adored by children and women and favored by the gods, making crucial decisions amongst his court, watching over the day to day activities of his kingdom as he took a swig of cold rum and caressed the neck of a chalice between his fingertips.
Because here in this world of limitless potential, he felt no disappointment. Inside, he could travel any place. Parents weren’t important. Food was unnecessary. The void of friendship, filled.
As Gabe peered through the window, in awe of this mystical phenomenon, he crept closer to the window and poked his head through to enter the world as he had so many times. The air shook with warmth as he was greeted with the smell of fresh pot pie and loud, exuberant chatter. In front of him, a large, satin chamber filled to the brim with men and women in silk robes with blinding jewelry opened. They were orderly, seated at a long, ivory-tusked banquet table with a large throne parked at the end. Soon there would be a bountiful meal of great celebration.
“There he is,” uttered a somewhat recognizable and childlike voice, cutting a decibel louder than the rest. “There is our God. He has appeared to join us and give wisdom.”
The flock of golden individuals turned and began cheering in Gabe’s direction.
Another voice, “Come to me, my God. I need you.”
Another, “Please bring wealth to my family, my God.”
A dark skinned woman with amber eyes slithered toward him, “My Savior” she cooed, “You have returned. Come and give me company. Give everything to us and we will do the same for you.”
She pursed her lips and kissed him. She kissed him with so much warmth and love he didn’t even need air.
Gabe made a silent promise to himself. He would live there forever. Inside the world of his special window.
This was all he’d ever need.
But in another reality…
… because there’s always another.
Gabriel Van Noy died in the fetal position, of a heroin overdose at 17 years young. Found alone in a grey shack with a single window.