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    About Dandon
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    ďFor a moment, all movement ceases and the scene is one of crystalline stillness, silent except for a slow, melodramatic heartbeat.Ē
    ― Daniel Clowes

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    12-21-2018 06:19 PM
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    Recent Entries

    Cycling in Places Unfamiliar

    by Dandon on 11-01-2018 at 04:35 PM
    Itís a warm sunny day and Iím riding my bike along the sidewalk of one of my cityís main streets toward downtown. I keep almost colliding with people, doors that swing open, etc., and I consider riding on the street since thatís what bylaw says youíre supposed to do anyways, but I very much prefer the sidewalk and I notice multiple riders doing the same ahead of me so I decide to keep on doing what Iím doing.

    I end up in an unfamiliar clearing, and I think itís rare to find myself somewhere I donít recognize in this part of town. There is long yellow grass, sparse clusters of trees, and slight hills that partially enclose the space. Directly across from me is a mound that reminds me of a pingo, with people walking across it single file to the other side. I wonder what is over there and consider joining them, but they seem to be some sort of tour group and it might be awkward. Based on my general sense of location, I imagine what might be on the other side and conclude that is likely just a field that I have seen countless times while passing on the highway.

    Somehow I end up in the house of someone I donít know. Not wanting to make it obvious that Iím intruding by leaving right away, I decide to stay a little while and pretend like Iím supposed to be there. I see a guy named Ronan who Iíve talked to a few times but who doesnít seem to recognize me, but I casually talk to him anyways, then make myself at home by pouring myself a glass of water and using the washroom. Then I sit down at a table with a few others and we all chat and play board games.

    It turns out the house belongs to Ronanís parents, and his mother offers me a bicycle helmet, saying she had noticed that I had ridden here without one. I donít want to accept it because I prefer to ride without one, but it is of exceptional high quality, so I concede after all.

    Eventually enough time has passed that I feel I can leave without it seeming strange. I get up and head for the front door, but just as Iím about to open it someone asks me who I know there. I say Iím friends with Ronan, who has left the room at this point. Everyone seems skeptical. Iím asked how I know him, so I try to keep things vague by saying ďI actually know him through a couple different sources.Ē Iím asked if itís through people from Westsyde, and I say ďSort of. Theyíre not from Westsyde, but they live there now.Ē Ronan re-enters, and I quickly leave the house before I can be questioned further.

    Outside, I go to board my bike but realize I still have the helmet with me. I donít want to take it knowing that I have obtained it under deceptive circumstances, but at the same time I donít want to return to the house knowing that my lie has likely been found out. I canít decide what to do.
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    The Taker

    by Dandon on 03-06-2018 at 08:54 PM
    Iím trapped in some sort of convention centre with a bunch of other strangers. A band is playing and we are free to roam around and do as we please, other than that there is a man with a grotesquely large, swollen, disfigured and scab-coloured face who keeps showing up to haul us away one by one to torture us in some unseen area.

    Iím sitting around talking to a man whose arm has been forcibly removed and another whose face is severely burnt on one side. A third, possibly dead, is sprawled face-down on the floor, his shirtless skin so covered with welts that his back looks like itís covered in Cheerios. A woman in great pain hobbles in to collapse on a seat nearby, one of her heels having been freshly sliced off.

    I feel lucky that I have not been taken so far, but am afraid knowing that my turn will inevitable come. I try to hide in the rafters, although Iím sure my doing so is futile.
    Categories
    nightmare

    Coyote Kiss Waves

    by Dandon on 10-17-2017 at 04:25 PM
    Iíve just awoken from a night alone sleeping on the sand at a public beach, by a tree line at the far end away from the entrance. There are only a few people in the distance at the other side. It is the first full day of my vacation, and I feel at peace and excited at the open-ended possibilities of what is to come in the weeks that follow. I decide that the water is warm enough for a morning swim, and I scroll through the music in my phone for the perfect soundtrack. I settle on ďBlack CatĒ by Coyote Kisses, and with a freshly cracked beer in hand I walk into the waves.
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    Leaderless North

    by Dandon on 09-12-2017 at 05:07 PM
    All government in Canada has suddenly collapsed, and there is a lot of speculation and tension as to what will happen to society in the country. I know of a group who have chosen to live nomadically for the sake of being able to flee and hide easily if necessary. They have set up tents in a park by the river, and I plan to join them. In preparation, I begin filling a backpack with all of the things I think will take up the least space while being the most useful.

    In the meantime, a friend and I order a pizza to be delivered to my house. When the delivery guy shows up he tells me it will be $100, which I think seems fair since the governmental situation must impact the monetary system. I count out the remainder of my cash, $120, which I doubt I will need as part of my impending new lifestyle. Iím about to give him the extra $20 as a tip, but then he asks if he can have a slice of the pizza, so I consider letting him do that instead. Then my friend and I get into an argument about what proper tipping etiquette might be in the new order of things.

    I head to the park, which is swarming with people. There seems to be some sort of festival going on, complete with a parade. I keep running into old friends of mine, all of whom I have not seen in a long time and who have struggled with serious drug problems. They now seem happy and healthy, just like everyone else in the area. It occurs to me that perhaps society might go on functioning communally of its own accord.
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    The Devil's Stress Hormone

    by Dandon on 07-31-2017 at 05:06 PM
    I enter a small, square, low-ceiling plywood structure that looks like it had been through a fire. Inside, some sort of recruitment session is taking place for a Satanist cult, led by a woman of about 50 with me and three others in attendance.

    The woman tells me she can answer any question I have about my future, as long as I join the cult. I don't want to be indebted to her, but I am concerned about my parents for some reason so I ask her if they are going to be okay. She tells me that in 3 years my dad will be in jail, wrongly convicted by a judge who is presiding drunk over his trial, and that in 2 years my mom will be dead.

    In exchange for this information, I join the others in injecting cortisol into our palms, and am told that we all must return here every day at 4pm for additional injections. I don't intend to follow through, but when 4pm approaches the following day I begin to feel nervous, as though I am being watched. I navigate a cluster of buildings, hiding behind walls as I go.

    I come across a television, on which I see a live news shot of a courtroom, with one of my fellow recruits among the jury. I feel relieved for him, since I know that he is in a safe place where he won't be forced to return to the cult. Then the leader appears next to him, smiling evilly, and the screen goes blank. She has come for him, and I know she will be coming for me next.
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