The Tragedy of My Masterpiece
by
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Chapter 5: Hosanna “Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.” —Proverbs 20:1 Knock knock knock… I heard banging on the door. “Ky, hey open up the door…” A woman’s voice… Who is it? I slowly got up and took a few steps closer and stopped when I heard a giggle that shook me to my core. “Who’s there?” “Ky it’s me open up… the giggling continued. I stopped moving and suddenly the doorknob started to turn but it was locked. The voice turned from sweet to furious. Whoever was on the other side wanted to hurt me… bad. “Ky open up the door…OPEN THE DOOR NOW!” A knife stabbed through the door as the banging became more frantic and then… “Thud.” I found myself face first on the floor of my room. I must have fell out of bed. What felt like a few minutes must have turned into a few hours. A dream… what kind of dream was that? I jumped again as there was a loud bang on my door. This time I heard a different voice. “Ky! Kyyyyy! You in there?” Dark spots danced in my vision, and my head was woozy, but I got up quickly and opened the door. There was Jimmy with a huge smile on his face. He grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking me. “It’s time to get ready! We have a party to go to!” “Alright, alright . . . Give me a few minutes to wake myself up.” I stumbled to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and looked in the mirror. The party . . . tonight is the night. I cleaned myself up and headed back to the room, where I picked out my outfit and laid it on the bed. I was going to wear a green shirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers with a black bomber jacket. As I stared at the outfit, feeling like something was off but not sure what, I remembered my medication, pulled out the bottle, and took out a pill. Then the label came back to me: “WARNING—DO NOT TAKE ON AN EMPTY STOMACH. TAKE ONE PILL A DAY. DO NOT MIX WITH ALCOHOL.” Don’t mix with alcohol . . . shit. I can’t take this now. Emery would be over at any moment to bring the liquor. As I was looking at the bottle of pills, Jimmy rushed through the door, startling me, and I dropped the bottle in the drawer. Pills fell out all over the drawer, but I closed it quickly so he wouldn’t notice. “Yoo, Ky, you ready . . . Wait, what are you wearing?” “What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m wearing clothes.” Jimmy bust out laughing as I stood there with a straight face. “Ky, look, I don’t know how to say this nicely but . . . you . . .” “I what??” “You have no fashion sense.” Jimmy shook his head, laughing, as he walked to my closet. He pulled out a black-and-gold flannel shirt and then opened my clothing drawer and pulled out a white T-shirt. “Put this on.” I changed my outfit to what he picked out. “Now we’re talking.” Jimmy crossed his arms and nodded. Right on cue, Emery knocked on the suite door and let herself into the living room. “Ky?” She wore sweatpants and a hoodie, and stood with the bottle in her hand. “Ky! There you are. I like your outfit!” Jimmy burst out laughing again. I shoved him away and shook my head. “Thank you. Why are you in sweats, aren’t you going to the party?” “Of course I’m going to the party! I just have to get ready. I’m not showing up as soon as it starts. Speaking of, I need to go and get ready now.” With a big smile on her face, she shoved the bottle into my chest and walked out of the room. I looked down at the bottle in my hands. “Did she get it? Is that it right there?” Jimmy was hovering like he hadn’t seen a bottle of alcohol in years. In a way, it was like looking at gold because, at that moment, we knew this night was going to be one to remember. Jimmy took out his cell phone and tried to take a selfie. “What are you doing?” “Taking a picture. What does it look like?” “I’m not taking a picture with a bottle of alcohol in my hand,” I said. “These things last forever, what if I’m looking for a job or something later on in life?” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Ky, sometimes you’re really pathetic” It got quiet, and then he snapped a quick a picture and ran out of the room. “Well, don’t just stand there, let’s go!” he called back. I didn’t even chase him as he left. Standing there, I thought about the picture Professor Fortunato had showed me. If my night was going to be anything like that, that selfie should be the only picture I would take. I walked out of the suite and locked my door. As we walked through the campus, heading to the party, Jimmy looked at the photo we took. He showed me the picture again just as he was about to post it on his social media. “Yo, Ky, what should I caption this?” “I don’t know. Put whatever you want.” He sucked his teeth. “You’re no help at all. I’m going to caption it ‘Senior Bros Shenanigans.’” He was too intent on his phone to see me shaking my head. Whatever. As we continued to walk in the night, we didn’t see anyone in sight. I started to wonder where the party was. Everything was quiet. “Are you sure we’re walking in the right direction?” Jimmy asked. “I’m pretty sure,” I said, but I pulled out my phone to check the address Emery had sent me. “It should be close.” “But why isn’t there any music?”
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About the Book
What happens when a college student in his final semester has a premature midlife crisis when he realizes he has lived a life of all work and no play? Following a trusted professor’s advice, studious college senior Ky Cooper tries to let loose and enjoy his last weeks of school, but his efforts are complicated by his internal struggles with mental health, unresolved trauma, and faith, resulting in dire, unforeseen consequences. The cynical but tolerant Ky draws up a meticulous world where the path least chosen reigns. It’s a place where the reserved character seems to dwell trouble-free. Crossing swords with the idea of abandoning his behavioral medication for religious purposes to appease others, Ky’s experience is a showcase of a young person trying to do their best. The Tragedy of My Masterpiece is a dark tale which snapshots what modern-day college life is like for the loneliest popular generation of all time. Embark on a difficult journey wherein the demons of solitude, lust, and manipulation are confronted through the perspective of a young adult trying to slow the process of his unraveling perception of reality. Sift through alluring imagery and ravishing aesthetics while ingesting the raw and unhinged exchanges of these college-aged characters.
About the Author
Tyrell Simon is a twenty-five-year-old African American college graduate. After starting this novel at the age of twenty-one, he put down the pen, feeling he lacked the ability and experience to tell a cohesive story. A year later, this idea proved too strong for him to ignore. Growing up in New York City, he honed his observation skills from the hustle and bustle of daily life. Capturing the essence of the dysfunctional dark metropolis that he called home.