MAX draft chapter 1 - The Break

(with added audio sound scaping by EBL)

Hi readers / writers,

I’m leaving this here in draft form to see how it lands with you. Might throw up a few draft chapters up in the near future as well.

I have added the audio sound scaping for this scene, which will feature on an accompanying music album later this year. I created this using a combination of purchased samples and home made samples, using Logic X in my humble home studio to pull it all together.

Enjoy!

-EBL

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SOUNDSCAPE for Max’s experience:

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Introduction / Chapter 1 - The Break

I can’t do this anymore! It’s like the harder I try, the harder it gets – not to fail!

I could climb to the highest peak and scream through the loudest megaphone, and nobody would even hear me.

Everything I thought was real somehow no longer exists. The rules have changed. My left is my right. My right is my left. My South is my North.

North has become South.

Maybe that’s it?! Maybe I scream? Do something radical or extreme? Something that will jolt the very existence of everything. Maybe then, I will feel like myself again.

Problem is … I can’t remember who I was –

-

The flames jumped from the curtains and crawled across the floor toward his feet. Yet he remained seated and very still. His arm chair, positioned in the centre of the room, was facing the living room windows. A worldview once so clear, now suffocated in smoke and pending death. So many memories pained him.

The threatening breeze that pulsed around his face had no impact on him. Not even a flinch. He just sat there. Slouched in a meditative state. Staring into his own mind - desperately trying to place the pieces of his life into a picture that made sense.

Over half the room was now a furnace! To any right-minded onlooker, this was a suicide by fire about to happen. His final note was encased in a high-quality plastic sandwich bag and smothered in a thick layer of fire-retardant gel. It read:

‘I’m sorry everyone – I’m done. M’

A man of many thoughts, yet very few words. Also a man going down with his ship. Not unheard of in this day and age. A little grisly perhaps. But in reality, he had lost all perspective. An identity crisis so overwhelming, he had forgotten the most important part –he had been here before! Not the fire. Not the note. But here. How many times? What’s my … wait …? His face now a picture of pure bemusement.

There was once a time when he would remember quickly – focus, defocus, realign – start again. Like youthful elasticity – rolling through life without a second thought. No stretching required. But this time he had not reset. It had been many years. The lines on his face painted half a century since his boyish indifference to obstacles. The curtain blocking his awareness started to draw open, and in this moment, the history of his prior journeys reformed clearly in his mind.

Although each attempt was paved with various challenges – where each incarnation was unique from its predecessor – it was the common denominator that was striking. Not what was different, but what was the same. His uncontrollable resilience set his current fiery predicament aside from his other chapters of existence. He never – ever – chose to quit. This was a first. This, was different. In fact, there was no guarantee of another shot if he stayed the current path.

His understanding of free will was now defective; exposed. In fact, when it came to matters of the heart, such a concept could not stand. Free will? To decide? To quit? He thought the decision to burn himself alive was his to make. Get the fuel, write the note, strike the match – sit down. All actions of a completely sane person exercising free will, yes?

Not really.

Passion always guided him. And it was passion that would never allow him to give up; even when every sensibility, every notion of survival, screamed at him to stop! There was no decision to make.

Like a dying body suddenly possessed by a new spirit, he now had no intention of kicking the bucket like this. Not at all! It was also getting bloody hot in this room.

He dropped his right hand to his side, slid the note into his front pocket, and picked up the old beaten-up jerry can; levitating to his feet.

He entered his kitchen and cleared the entire wall-mounted shelf filled with plates, a knife rack and numerous hanging pots and pans. They struck the floor in a chaotic mess. Not stopping his stride, he took a sharp left to his garage. Do I take Sven? His mechanical companion of 13 years. Not his first car, but definitely his most important one. Fast escape? No… I have to leave everything behind. I’m sorry buddy.

Retreating from the garage with a heavier heart, it was a straight path to the front door. He emptied the remaining fuel onto the kitchen floor and the canister then followed. The unforgiving sharp crash brought the sound of finality.

Pacing the hallway, the bedroom doors flew past him throwing goodbye glances to his peripheral. Even the familiar sound of his front door swinging open was different this time. Adrenaline? The vacuum created by the opening door pulled flames from the kitchen into the hallway. He shot a look down the main vein of what was once his home, and with a moment of deep acknowledgment, lowered his eyes for just a second. Sorrow.

The door slammed shut.

Walking through the front garden, the blaze set behind him; he felt like a new-born. But he was still in the womb. He reached the side walk, stopped, and turned to take in the view. The womb was very much on fire!

After staring a while, he realised – he had no concept of time. He checked. Close to midnight. He unlocked his gaze and stole a quick look of the homes down his residential street. Darkness and sleep for now. It was also a warm summer’s night. Everything was dry.

I never thought of that… shit! Could this spread?

As the luminescence of this thought evaporated for his next, the distant screams of sirens broke the soft hum of the suburban streetlights. Someone was awake! They’ve just called it in!

Time to leave!

Not knowing how, but trusting in his instincts, Max found himself running down his street with Hell at his heels. As his breathing became heavy, and his body settled into both fight and flight, he noticed that he was heading for water. At this rate, E.T.A. ten minutes. The Port.

He has tasked himself with the impossible. Tasked to fail. But with this knowledge he also knew -

He had no choice.

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EBL 2026 - Taken from the beginning of draft chapter 1 of upcoming Novel “Max”.