“Love in Bedlam” Character Bios: The Guys

Merrick Clemons

Life for a bleeding heart can be quite cruel.  The same goes for being a gay fella.  Merrick has the joy of being both.  This rainbow bandit wants to love the world, but thanks to his crippling internet addiction he’s constantly reminded of the horrors as news of them pop up in his e-mail everyday.  He subscribes to mailing lists that solely follow the darkest of dark news.  His glasses were always in a state of condensation from the grief.  Some would ask why a person who wants to know the world is a better place only focuses on the negative.  The few who do ask would be told a rambling answer that essentially says that he doesn’t know.
It first started out as a titter.  Something about how a person was treated in a foreign land he had to laugh at because he couldn’t believe was real.  But it was real.  As was the next thing.  And the next.  And so on for weeks, then months, then years.  Years of looking at the absolute worst humanity had to offer.  Even with all the things he’s seen and read and heard, the most tragic thing is that his heart never calloused.  Every news item was as heartrending as the last.  One day, he reached his breaking point and burned the windows of his windows to the world.  He’d rather be blind than see the terrible jewel he feels his planet has become.
Some time passed, and his heart still bled.  The blood was mixed with unbridaled rage and disgust.  Sympathy and fury are the oil and water of the mind… something was to explode soon.  Before the heralding smoke started to bloom, he got a pamphlet in the mail.  Still without his glasses, he had to make an effort to read it.  When he was done, he signed up for the fourth revolution of TeRoMa.  And he was accepted.

Xander Wood

There was once a boy named Xander who found out he was psychic.  During his first day of Algebra I, he knew that x=5 before the teacher could finish writing 2x+3=13.  And he knew it because he heard Mr. Terra say it as he wrote it.  Only… he didn’t actually hear it.  More like “heard” it.  An echo somewhere between his earlobes, behind the piano lessons.  It was the last day he ever studied for any class, yet it was the start of his run of being the most straightiest of straight-A students ever to grace the halls of Tallyroad High.
After good grades, a teenager’s mind drifts to other places once they know they can read minds.  A great mind-reader was Xander Wood, but that was completely inverse to how much of a people-person he was.  The things he “heard” about himself in others’ minds made him wish he accidentally became a voodoo practicioner instead.  However, he saw a spiteful light at the end of the tunnel.  Being able to read the minds of fickle teenagers meant things like jocks getting love letters from their closeted teammates and parents getting pregnancy confessions from their daughters.  Calling teachers’ spouces and tell them that their lovers are in the laps of students/teachers/janitors/etc.  Warning the security guards about one of the gym teachers stuffing formaldehyde rats up her cunny.  And so on.
There had to have been more to being psychic than reading minds, he thought.  Surely, he could put in as easily as he could take out.  A psychic’s life is a lonely one and if he had to build the perfect woman, so be it.  Thus, over time, he trained himself to become a grand brain-drilling psychic person dude (he’s not the best at coming up with titles).  He got to the point where he was able to work his magic on the damaged.  It’s easier to put a puzzle together than tear down a house, after all.  It was around this time that he heard about TeRoMa.

Julian Balthazar

Julian decided to enter TeRoMa in the middle of the night on a rooftop with a half-finished bottle of Mata Hari absinthe in one hand, a police-issue Colt .45 with one chambered bullet in the other, and reeking of yet another meaningless fuck.  Life wasn’t always suspended on a rooftop with a teaspoon of cordite.  He was once hopeful about life, and love.  Idiotic to him now.  Like a child holding a dead bird and expecting it to fly.  But hope was once a part of him, nonetheless.
The prince began being dragged in his downward spiral when the world first revealed to him that love would elude him for the rest of his life.  When he was in first grade, he told a gal that he liked her and she responded with remarkable indifference.  From that point on, it would be the same melody in different genres, becoming increasingly more tragic.  He could whistle it in his sleep by the time he ended up on that fateful rooftop.  Maybe they would’ve had the sheet music in his obituary.  Almost ironically, his ability to nurture a gal into a fuck was mammoth.  He was as sure any member of the female race wanted a night of Bangkok as he was they’d laugh off a date in his face.
Then he started being self-destructive.  And once, he ruined a friend’s relationship with a gal for no other reason than he wanted to fuck her.  The friend still doesn’t know the real reason why she broke up with him.  It was then he realized how horrible a person he was… because he liked breaking them up.  It made him frightfully gleeful.  Making others as miserable as him was something he saw himself becoming addicted to.  A fiend for heartbreak.  Luckily, depending on which shoulder you’re on, he had the self-awareness to see what a disgusting human being he was turning into.
He gave himself an ultimatum: go a night without the slick, piquant warmth of a woman, without the carnal arpregios of a woman… or die.  Because he knew that if he could go a night without that, he could go without that from an occupied life.  As she rode him reverse-cowgirl, he saw that he was doomed.  As she cried thinking about her sudden realization that her lover and how he’s calling her right now, our hero left the hotel room they rented by the hour.  He bought a bottle of Mata Hari because he felt he’d be in good company.  He walked behind a cop, knocked him unconscious, and took his gun.  He broke into a closed factory and sat on its rooftop.  The things you can do easily when you act like it’s normal.  He ejected the mag of the gun, making sure a round was in the chamber, and started a convo with the green faerie as he heard a familiar melody.
As he was about to say his final goodbye, he saw a billboard for TeRoMa.

Yorick Anger

Yorick is much too shy and mistrusting to allow anything about him be said at this time.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: