Ahndrian Archives

Malcolm was nothing short of incredible, at least in his mind. His achievements were undeniable— most viewed streamer on every platform he posted his videos to, good grad...no. Never mind, it’s just the streaming thing. That’s all Malcolm was good at truthfully. He played videogames like no one else, and people admired him for it.

It all went to his head without fail.

For a long time, he wore his pride like a badge, letting it show, but it didn’t define him. However, over time the negative comments and mocking he received in his live chats made him slowly grow more cynical. Eventually, his pride was no longer a badge. He donned it like armor and wielded it like a weapon.

Whenever anyone had something to say, he tossed his skills and his popularity in their face and brushed off their words. For many people, this drove them to lose interest, but for many others, it was something even better in his videos. Soon, he became known for his vulgar and abrasive personality on camera. People came to watch his videos to see him tear apart viewers, game developers, and even celebrities from time to time. Everyone became a target and with his popularity reaching new heights, he let it all seep in.

“Can anyone bring a real challenge?” he’d sneer after every completed game.

Indie developers always seemed ready to take him on. More and more difficult adventure games were coming Malcolm’s way, and though he refused to admit it, they got better with every round of games he played.

Behind his aggressive onscreen persona, this was what Malcolm really enjoyed more than anything. He kept getting better and finding new games to play. Though, he did get some games that he truly believed were bad. When those games appeared in his inbox, the developers seldom reached out again.

“This is an absolute atrocity. The artist can’t be serious, right?” Malcolm stared in mocking awe at the 2D fantasy adventure game D-Rook that one of his fans sent him. “Next time you want to chew on crayons, don’t lick a piece of paper and call it art. Got it?”

Malcolm went on for another fifteen minutes, railing into the artist, the game designers, and everyone else involved. He spat horrible insults, digging deeper than he ever had before while his chat continued to rile him up and suggest more and more vulgar things he could say.

This time, despite his well-known persona, he had gone too far for the platform again, “Let me tell you another thing you absolutely fucking brainde-.”

Midsentence his stream was blacked out and he was forced out of his profile by the site’s moderators. He slammed his hands down on the desk and gave one last, loud “FUCK!” before peeling his headphones off and leaning against the back of his chair.

He was banned for a month. He’d had one before, but it was enough to make him regret, if only for a moment, going on such a long-winded rant. Malcolm shoved his hand in his pocket and ripped out his phone.

“Meet...me...at...the...clock...tower...prick,” he mumbled as he typed the message out on his phone.

He jumped from his chair; certain his demands would be met. The inside of his closet was the neatest thing in Malcolm’s room. Despite all impressions of him, he enjoyed clothes and he enjoyed looking good. He pulled a pair of slim khaki pants and a patterned button up from the hangars, putting them both on effortlessly. He wiggled his feet into his favorite boots and walked out of his room with his happiness intact.

As he made his way down the stairs, he could hear Noelle crunching on something loudly while watching another one of her crime dramas. He wasn’t much of a fan, but he’d sat down and watched so many just out of boredom, he’d become an expert at walking in during any interrogation scene and determining if they were the real killer by the way the interview was going and before it was revealed. It became his favorite way to torture his sister.

She was perfectly happy pretending she couldn’t tell anything and feel like she was following along with the investigation.

“It’s my favorite lie that I tell myself,” She’d always say when he poked fun at her.

Unwilling to start the lengthy conversation that would inevitably ensue if he walked in there right now, Malcolm did his best to tip-toe down the stairs and sneak past her. He’d just made it to the door when he heard the creak of the loose floorboards behind him.

“It’s after ten. Where exactly were you planning to go?” Noelle asked, standing behind him with her arms crossed.

“I was planning to meet G at the clock tower. It’s cool, Noelle.” Malcolm answered with an unsure shrug.

Noelle tapped her foot as she looked down at him, standing just a couple of inches taller, “You know daddy would whoop yo ass if he knew you were sneaking out of my damn house this late. Go, before I change my mind.”

Malcolm smiled at his sister and gave her a hug before turning to bounce out the doorway. Noelle caught him in the back of the head one good time with her palm before he could get out. He rubbed the spot where she slapped him, and they both laughed it off as he shut the door behind him.

Malcolm straightened his clothes and headed off into the night. The sky above him looked nearly pitch black with the unending rows of streetlights illuminating every inch of his neighborhood. The park around the corner was one of the only places where the streetlights didn’t block someone’s complete view of the sky. The other was the top of the clock tower. High above the lights, you could see out past the edge of their neighborhood, and they could see nearly every star above them.

Him and his best friend, Giovanni, loved sneaking up to the top and pretending they knew anything about the universe and the way it worked. Giovanni’s Girlfriend, Seela, started tagging along with him after they’d been together for a few months. The three of them became pretty tight because of it.

Malcolm put both his hands in his pockets and strode down the streets of his small town of Tracton, thinking about his month ahead without being able to hop on his favorite platform. He could still talk to his followers on his social media platforms, but things got boring when he couldn’t stream. Giovanni and Seela needed time to themselves so he couldn’t ask them to get together every day, even though he was sure they’d say yes if he did.

He took a deep breath and let out a long sigh, watching the cold twist his breath into thin wisps of vapor in front of him. He looked around him, making sure he was out of sight beneath the bright streetlamps. Satisfied that nobody was watching, he put his fingers up to his lips and pretended he was smoking a cigarette.

He knew that it was stupid to keep doing it every time it was cold, but he always got a good chuckle out of the simple act. He laughed softly to himself and continued down the sidewalk, turning left, then sliding into a small alley between the market and the post office.

He slid into the shadowy path between the buildings, looking up at the small sliver of stars he could see between the rooftops. The night was incredibly quiet around him. No cars seemed to be on the road and even the crickets seemed to take the night off. Realizing this, a chill ran through Malcolm, and he kicked a discarded can on the ground just to add something to the deafening silence.

The can skipped across the concrete, clanging against the wall of the post office, and stopping after it collided with the corner of the dumpster.

“Goal!” Malcolm yelled, throwing his arms up in the air.

He let out another self-inspired chuckle and stepped out of the alleyway onto the main road. Just as his foot hit the pavement, he quickly jumped backwards out of the way to let someone else by.

Malcolm watched him pass by, without a word and round the next corner. Malcolm’s breathing was heavy, and his heart felt like it was about to pound out of his chest. He shook his head and turned down the main street to the clock tower.

Just as he expected, Giovanni and Seela sat out front on a nearby bench. They were scrolling through something on Giovanni’s phone and having a good laugh. Once Malcolm got closer, he saw the two cups of coffee in Seela’s hands and the one in Giovanni’s other hand.

“Gas station?” Malcolm asked as he walked up to them.

Seela let out a small yelp and Giovanni couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction.

“Well, I don’t think you deserve it now, asshole!” Seela barked.

Malcolm threw his hands up in surrender, “I apologize! I figured you two could hear me walking up.”

“Whose gunna hear you when your footsteps don’t make any sound. I swear you’re like a fucking ninja.” Seela said.

“I didn’t hear you either, man.” Giovanni told him as their eyes met.

Malcolm looked down at his boots, wondering how they couldn’t hear them clicking down the sidewalk. Just like he never heard the other man coming. He looked back to the spot where the man walked out of view. He tried to burn what little pieces he could of that man into his memory. He was sure he’d never seen the man before and Tracton wasn’t a large town. If he didn’t know someone personally, he’d at least seen them before.

He shook it off and turned back to Giovanni and Seela.

“Let’s head up.” Malcolm suggested, reaching out to grab the cup of coffee from Seela, then offering his free hand to help her up from the bench.

They walked around the back of the clocktower and pried open the heavy wooden door that was never locked. The creak of the door was the loudest thing any of them had heard all night. The sound echoed for a moment as they pulled it the rest of the way and propped it open with the bricks they left against a nearby fence.

One by one they climbed the stairs all the way up to the top. The hands of the clock had long since stopped spinning, but the dim glow of the clock face as it reflected the moonlight always made the city feel more alive.

They sat behind the glass of the clock face and sprawled out across the wooden floors. Seela laid between Malcolm and Giovanni, throwing her arms around their necks, and pulling them in closer.

“I’m glad you called us out today, Maco.” Seela said.

Malcolm feigned disgust at her ridiculous nickname she made up for him when she started dating Giovanni. At first, he used to argue with her every time she called him that, but now he found himself oddly defensive of the name whenever anyone else tried to call him that.

Malcolm rolled over and stuck his tongue out at her, “I don’t remember inviting you anywhere."

“I knew it, Maco,” Seela let out a perfectly exaggerated gasp, “you really are trying to get rid of me.”

“The thought has occurred to me, but as long as you keep bringing me this lovely coffee, you shall remain safe.”

The three of them burst out in laughter. Once they were done wiping the tears from their eyes, they let out a collective sigh and fixed their eyes on the stars above them.

“You know, I’ve been wondering...why is the coffee from the gas station your favorite?” Giovanni turned his head towards Malcolm as he spoke.

Malcolm lifted his cup of coffee and stared at it like it was a puzzle he was struggling to solve. He knew why he liked it, but he had never put it into words before. He wasn’t certain it would make sense by his explanation.

“You know how the gas station is a popular truck stop?” Giovanni and Seela nodded in response, “That means they typically make their coffee stronger in order to help the truck drivers passing through stay up on their routes. When you’re not actually exhausted, the boosts they give it makes you feel over energized. Like a battery surging with electricity. Something like that. I like the way that feels.”

He finished his explanation and looked back over at Giovanni and Seela. Both of them looked between him and their cups. Seela tentatively lifted her cup to her lips and took a big gulp of the truck stop sludge. Giovanni just stared at his cup and then at Seela with a sad look on his face.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I really wish I didn’t choose to get hot chocolate.” Giovanni muttered.

Malcolm lifted his cup to his lips and took a big gulp. Once he was done, he handed his cup to Giovanni and shrugged.

“Kill it. I’ve had enough to get me going,” Malcolm told him.

Giovanni swiped the cup from Malcolm’s hands and looked down at it like he’d just obtained some forbidden treasure, “This better be as trippy as you made it sound.”

“I think your expectations are way too high right now.” Malcolm retorted.

Giovanni put the cup to his mouth and downed the rest of it. He left his mouth open, breathing in heavily to try and cool his scorched tongue. The coffee wasn’t hot enough to burn him, but Malcolm and Seela were certain he felt the sting after drinking so much at once.

“Fuck that’s nasty!” Giovanni spat.

“Never said it tasted good.” Malcolm laughed and laid back against the floor to look up at the stars.

The rest of the night went like they usually did. They had spurts of conversation about aliens, gods, and all manner of topics they knew far too little about to have any meaningful discussion. Nevertheless, they all walked down the stairs that night with a smile on their face.

Malcolm tapped his fingers on his thighs as he walked, whistling along to the jazz tune that set itself on replay in his head. He walked up the sidewalk with a bounce in his step, letting the click of his heels on the pavement add to the sounds of his one-man band.