The Hammer and Sickle Pages

Anton sits at the rickety table in the kitchen before his latest acquisition; an antique typewriter purchased from a second hand store. The new ream of printer paper set beside the ancient relic provides a startling contrast; pages that look too clean and white for this gray apartment; impossibly modern packaging that screams incompatibility with his outdated machinery. Still, as he manually loads a blank sheet of paper into the mouth of the device, he notes with satisfaction that it fits. This will work.

He stares at the keys and beckoning page for a long moment, taking several drags off his cigarette until he has smoked it to completion. Staring back impassively is the typewriter; an obedient slave silently awaiting his touch; a chronicler of his life ready to bear the burden of his soul; an accomplice to his blackness that will never judge nor condemn him. He lights another cigarette and begins to type, using only his index fingers.

The sea ch fo Alexia Miliand ovic has failed. I no longe ca e.

Anton looks up at the printed words on the page and scowls, the reason for the typewriter's low selling price now painfully evident. He ponders whether or not this will deter him from capturing his thoughts in writing, and he ultimately decides it doesn't matter if the machine is broken. This exercise is for his consumption only; it makes little difference if his thoughts are not captured perfectly. It isn't as though what he has to type is perfect by any means to begin with.

The sea ch fo Alexia Miliand ovic has failed. I no longe ca e.

I thought she could help me adjust he e. I thought she could help me find my place. I have found it without he .

The e is wo k he e fo me. I have done one job fo Simone but she sc ewed me on the money. I'm not su e if I will wo k fo he again.

I don't like he cousin, Ming. She is a loose cannon. They have money though. I might find anothe way to get what they owe me.

I think Jacobi is someone I can wo k with. I helped him once and he was quick to ewa d me. I don't want to push him though. He is c azy, but I can wo k with c azy. As long as I get paid.

My neighbo Messa is too good to be t ue. All I have to do is give he pain and she gives me anything I want. Beats spending all my money on who es.

aja was sma t to disappea . If I catch he again I will show he no me cy. Maybe I'll give he to Jacobi. That will kill two bi ds with one stone.

Same with that pain in the ass woman f om the othe town that I keep seeing. She needs a ha d dose of eality.

I liked the gi l with Jacobi. I don't think she liked me ve y much though.

The police fo ce he e is a joke. The blonde with the big mouth wo ks fo them. I'd like to shut he up pe manently.

Anton sits back in his chair and rereads what he wrote, nodding in agreement with the typewriter. He rips out the page and puts it in an unmarked folder, which he then places under the mattress of his bed for safekeeping. He rewards himself with another cigarette and blows smoke rings at the ceiling, glancing over at his typewriter frequently. It has worked.

Anton grimaces as he awkwardly feeds the paper into the typewriter using only his left hand. The pain in his wrist refuses to go away, and the combination of percocets and cigarettes hasn't been enough to take the edge off. He begins to type, using only one finger.

My fucking w ist is killing me.

I should not have punched the window. I was so ang y at Simone busting my balls and that woman t ying to take my business. I should have punched them both instead.

The hospital is idiculous. No one answe s the phone. No one checks the waiting oom fo patients. Good thing I wasn't dying o I'd be dead.

Messa waited with me. It was good to have company but she told me sto ies about he past. C azy sto ies. I think she is the type that finds t ouble. All the mo e eason to not get too involved with he .

This w ist is going to fuck up my getting wo k. I hope it heals fast. ent and van payment will be due soon.

Anton pulls the page out of the typewriter and slides it into the folder under the first sheet. He tucks the folder back under his mattress and sits on the edge of the bed, trying to wiggle his fingers without pain and finding he cannot. He stares grimly out the window at the brick building beyond and starts to think about how he's going to make his payments next week.

Anton flexes his wrist, still feeling pain but not like before. He needs to wrap it back up in the ace bandages in a minute, but for now it feels good to be able to scratch his skin and wiggle his fingers a bit. The bottle of percocets is almost empty and he doubts he'll be able to get a refill on the prescription. He feeds a fresh sheet of paper into the typewriter, using both hands for the first time in a week.

The w ist is getting bette , but still not good yet. I cu se that Asian woman. This isn't ove . I think he woman Lil will p ove useful in this.

At least I finally got medical attention at the clinic. D . Kay wea s tops that show off he tits. I might have to get hu t mo e often.

I have Messa w apped a ound my finge . She will do anything I ask. Much cheape than paying fo who es. He apa tment is always clean too.

Until w ist is fully healed, I have to take easie jobs to make ent. The woman at the flowe shop hi ed me fo delive ies. She is odd, but I think I will like wo king the e. That custome f om the clinic is in fo a su p ise.

He pulls the paper from the machine and slips it to the bottom of his folder. After slipping the folder under his mattress, he enjoys a cigarette while standing at his window watching Messa wait on customers at the coffee shop. His fingers flex instinctively. With a sigh, he finishes his butt and reaches for the ace bandages.

Anton moves about the apartment quickly, gathering just a few essentials before rushing to head out the door again. He must not leave the girl in the abandoned apartment alone for too long lest someone discover her. He stops as he passes the table, seeing the typewriter and the clean white stack of paper beckoning him. With a quick check on the time, he decides he can spare a few moments to jot down his thoughts while they are still fresh in his mind. His two index fingers fly over the keys, evidence that his wrist is fully healed.

Shit is happening like c azy ight now.

Cha on appea ed out of nowhe e at the clinic. I almost fo got about my ag eement with him. I helped him with D . Kay, but I knew it was going to bite me in the ass. I was ight.

Messa doesn't t ust me anymo e. She didn't buy my bullshit sto y. She kicked me out and took my key. She told me I would have to ea n back he t ust. We'll see about that.

I still can't find Gem, and Summe is waiting. I won't fail on that job though. The deal is too good.

Cha on owes me money too. He'll pay though, not like Simone.

Simone doesn't sound too happy that I have Ming. Ming doesn't sound too happy eithe . Too fucking bad. This is what they get when they don't pay as p omised. She'll pay this time.

He pulls the page from the typewriter and jogs back to stick it in the folder under his bed. His wrist doesn't even twinge as he lifts the mattress easily with his right hand. Grunting in satisfaction, he bolts out of the apartment, back to where the girl awaits his return.

Anton rises from the dirty sheets, his thoughts as unclean as his body. The growling in his stomach won't be denied, but there isn't anything in his kitchen that isn't spoiled or spoiling. He glances at the sofa, thinking he might sit for a moment and enjoy a wake up cigarette, but he hasn't forgotten how the springs in the cushions nearly bled him to death the last time he sat there. He looks through a pile of previously worn laundry, letting his nose tell him which are fit to wear, and his search disturbs a handful of roaches that scatter in all directions. For the first time since relocating to Sinners Rest, Anton is officially disgusted with his own living conditions.

He sits at the table and begins to type.

Fuck this place.

I don't know how it happened, but Ming escaped. I etu ned to whe e I had he and she was gone. No sign of he o Simone since, and no cops at my doo . Yet. I will be watching my back.

I told Messa to give me back he key and she pulled a knife on me. That was a mistake. She is going to see it my way, one way o the othe . Maybe the p esent I left outside he doo will help he see I'm not fucking a ound.

I miss he apa tment. Mine is such a shithole.

If Messa won't listen, I'll have to spend mo e nights at the flowe shop. Summe 's bed isn't as nice as Messa's, but it will do. At least she does as she is told, although I think she might need a wake up call too.

This bill f om the hospital will b eak me. I needed that money f om Simone, and Jaco still hasn't paid me. Summe doesn't have enough to cove it eithe .

I'm going to need to pull anothe job.

Anton adds the sheet to the folder under his bed and stands at the open window, trying to get a bit of clean air into his lungs. He glares at the coffee shop across the street, imagining Messa there with her clean laundry and freshly shampoo'd hair. He flicks his cigarette away in anger. How dare she deny him....how dare she!