Conrad Julius Ecklie (conrad_ecklie) wrote,
Conrad Julius Ecklie

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Theatrical Muse: Week 160: Question 160

Name: Conrad Ecklie

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Word Count: 1777

What song best describes your life?

I was there
When you shone as bright as Bethlehem from afar
I was there
When you were young and strong and perverted
And everything that makes a young man a star
Oh, you were a star

Although Conrad Ecklie was only still young, he had seen the strength his parents both possessed. His father, a rugged kind of individuality and order, his mother, a strong, collected, organised woman who knew her way around the world. He had seem them be as bright as they ever had been, he had experienced their love, and the way they treasured him. He had, experienced, life with his parents as life with two unforgettable people, who he loved and treasured dearly. He could not forget that, even if it was a complex set of emotions for a child not even ten years old.

I was there
And I swear to God and on my mother’s grave
On everything I have or ever will embrace
I was there
And I saw it with my own two eyes

Everything had been the same on that day. Everything, had been perfectly ordered, simple, whimsically carefree. Unsung Christmas carols strung the air in a silent melody, and the walk to get some peas, was carefree, a trip not desired, but appreciated anyway. The boy had no idea how lucky he was, and how unfortunate he would be in the years coming after those precious moments. And then, he got back home, and he saw the horror that had befallen his household, with his own eyes. Nothing, from that point onwards, would ever be the same, ever.

And now it’s all around me, it’s all around me
I’m surrounded
And now it’s all around me, it’s all around me
You surround me like a circle

Death was a surrounding experienced. It circled and enveloped him into a hazy kind of hell, and the most devastating thing was, that it didn’t faze him. He could still feel clearly, still talk with conscious motions and carefully laid out words. In those mere moments he had been broken, had lost his innocence, and had permanently changed into a different person. The boy, seemed, the same, on the outside, and his lack of emotion was put down to shock, but he wasn’t the same on the inside, and he would never, ever, bee the same again.

Do do do do do do

It hurt his soul, and while his eyes stayed clear and clean, something vicious inside his eight year old body shouted, roared and thundered its way into existence. This monster, now born, would be a constant reminder of the savage nature of humanity.

I was there
Come on, tell me I wasn’t worth stickin’ it out for
Well, I was there
And I know I was worth it, ‘cause if I wasn’t worth it
That makes me worse off than you are

He had been something important to his parents. He had been their child, their only child, and they had loved and doted on him from the moment he was born. He knew that. Yet, he felt, at times, it would have been easier if they hadn’t loved him, hadn’t appreciated and adored him. Then, he shook away that feeling, and became thankful for what he had had, while he had had it. In his thoughts, if he hadn’t been loved by his parents, then their deaths, wouldn’t have been as important to him, and he wouldn’t have cared as much as he did. Seeing as he did, however, that made them important, made their deaths an important, but sad event, a dreadful experience to be remembered for as long as he lived. He couldn’t forget his parents because he had loved them so much, so dearly, and so had they to him, and to each other.

It’s all around me, it’s all around me
I’m surrounded
You know it’s all around me, it’s all around me
You surround me like a circle

At night, in the same home where death had visited him on Christmas Day, he sook in his bed, silent night terrors eating away at what scrap of good will he had saved from an emotional devastation. And when asked, if he wanted to go somewhere different, live somewhere far away, in a different city, he flat refused. This was his home, this was his city, this was where his parents had wanted him to grow up, and this, was where he wanted to be. Las Vegas was where he wanted to be, wanted to live, no matter how much it hurt him on the inside.

But don’t you lose sight of me now
Don’t you lose sight of me now

Years later, and he was the same. Conrad Ecklie had lost again. He had been foolish, and fallen in love, had married and enjoyed and thought, that for once in a million trillion years, things would be ok for him. But they weren’t, and so, when death ripped through his very being, his rigid existence, once again, he returned to the emotional void that was, that had become, so familiar to him. He was still who he had always been for most, if not all of his life. Except now, he couldn’t consider himself an entire fool for living his wife, because, if he was a fool, that would make her death another pointless event. Her death hadn’t been as pointless event, hadn’t just been a senseless murder to be investigated and forgotten. As a result, he wasn’t an entire fool for letting her die, just, a large one. He wouldn’t forget her. He wouldn’t, forget, his parents.

Do do do do do do do
Don’t lose sight of me now

He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t forget them, ever, for as long as he lived, and, because he had been loved, had been treasured, adored and favoured, he continued to live. He continued to live, no matter how much it pained and hurt him on the inside.

‘Cause I was there
When they dropped the bomb
You know I remember the bomb
And I still hear the bomb
And I still fight the bomb
You know I still fear the bomb
You know I still hate the bomb
Sometimes I still get the call

Looking at the faces of people who had found out their loved one, or ones, were dead, he was able to paint on the face of sympathy. He knew what it felt like to be going through what they where, and he wouldn’t have ever wished it on anyone. Even if he felt, mostly, nothing, none of the deaths he investigated would ever be in vain, because the people who had died, at some point in their lives, must have been loved by someone. No one would die a pointless death when he was around, because, even if they were never identified, and buried at the city’s expense, they had been loved once upon a time. Just like he had. Just like his parents and his wife had been. Even if he had to force it, he would feel something, a small, solitary, quickly vanishing spark for each dead person and the people who had loved them, because he knew, he just knew, that even if it didn’t happen for long, at some point in each case, during each death, he had to care. He had been there after his parents had died, he had discovered Michelle’s body. The figurative bomb had been dropped, first when he was eight, and then again, decades later. It followed him around, and he dreaded it, and hated passing on a different version of its explosive impact, to other people.

So don’t you lose sight of me now
Don’t you lose sight of me now

The deaths never followed him home. The ones that paperwork followed him to his office, however, were often ones like him. While most things he finished up quickly, once in a while he would linger on the final page of a case report, and pray, that people who had been met, had been greeted by the death of someone they knew and loved, would not suffer as he did. He prayed that the justice he had been able to provide, would be just enough to help them get back on their way to being as normal as they could be after a terrible tragedy.

You know you’re all around me, you’re all around me
(Don’t you lose ...)
I’m surrounded
(Sight of me now)
You know you’re all me, you’re all around me
(Don’t you lose ...)
I’m surrounded
(Sight of me now)
You know you’re all around me, you’re all around me
(Don’t you lose ...)
I’m surrounded
(Sight of me now)
Now it’s all around me, you’re all around me
You surround me like a circle

If he was going to be surrounded by death for the rest of his life, then he would suffer under it, deal with it, silently. He would put up with it, because he had to, and it would be a weight on him that he suffered under with a determined pride not to let it weigh him down. He would remember his parents, he would remember his wife, and in her death, which would come sometime in the following years, he would remember his aunt also. If death was going to follow him around, he would be all the better, all the stronger, for it, for all the experiences it had given him, and how it had shaped his life.

I’m surrounded, oh

He would be strong. He would survive. He would remember, and, one day, he would die and he would feel pain no more.

Ah ah, like a circle around me ...

For the moment, he would live, brilliantly and sadly. He would be the phoenix in a dark city, bubbling blackness, death and hatred, and he would see that the city did not damage him to the point of ceasing function. He would survive, he would remember,

La la la la la la la la

He would survive, he would remember.

All around me now

He would work hard. He would survive. He would remember all those that he had loved and lost, so that their deaths meant something, important, to someone. He would remember, forever, the people he had loved, so that their deaths would mean something vital, to someone, so that they wouldn’t die in vain, at the hands of people filled with hate.

Oh ...

He would survive. He would remember. He would work. He would live. He, would, live.

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.