I wake to a peculiar sight. A figure stands in the middle of my bedroom. They mostly look like a shadow but I can almost make out facial characteristics. I sit up to get a better look but they're gone. There's a chance I was still dreaming but I think I know why I really saw them. My head aches so I cradle it in my hands and try to remember my dreams from the night. They were peaceful and nice. They're also gone. All I have today is the world around me and I have to make something of it. No tears.
The air has a hint of maple, a reminder of a day long past, yet I'm left wondering if I would be better letting this one go while I lie back in bed. My pillow hates me though. When I'm asleep, we're friends, but during my waking hours, even they've had enough of me. That's every day, starting now. Enough time has been spent in thought, so action takes over as I get out of bed and perform my daily fifty push-up task. At some point I realized that getting older didn't come with staying strong and fit. There are some things you have to work for.
What is today? A question that runs though my mind a lot now. As long as it's not October 9th, a day tied to repetitiveness and mysticism. Then again, that could just be something I made up. My concerns are with having a task that was assigned to today. My calendar makes little effort to inform me of the days that have passed. Not a single one has been marked off in any way. My phone will tell me what I need to know if I could only focus my vision long enough to see the numbers past the blue glow. I don't really care. If I needed to do something today either I'll remember or someone will let me know. I could eat something. I don't really think I'm even hungry.
I wanted to walk to my kitchen but there seems to be someone standing at my front door. They're inside my house but I don't remember letting them in. I ask them if they're here. Not that I understood my own question but they answer anyway, telling me that they called me several times and knocked on my door while standing outside for the good part of an hour. I know who this is. This is my friend Kitty. She's not an actual cat, that I know of. I guess she's the one that's going to tell me what I need to do today. That or she's here to run my life for me just like everyone else.
I'm sure she would rather be nice to me. We've know each other for the last 12 years now. In all that time, we've only ever supported each other, even when we have dumb ideas. I tell her to sit down in the kitchen. I have to shower and get dressed. She tells me to put on something nice. I remember where we're going now. A funeral.
Story by: James D. Gray
Part 2 of ?
The air has a hint of maple, a reminder of a day long past, yet I'm left wondering if I would be better letting this one go while I lie back in bed. My pillow hates me though. When I'm asleep, we're friends, but during my waking hours, even they've had enough of me. That's every day, starting now. Enough time has been spent in thought, so action takes over as I get out of bed and perform my daily fifty push-up task. At some point I realized that getting older didn't come with staying strong and fit. There are some things you have to work for.
What is today? A question that runs though my mind a lot now. As long as it's not October 9th, a day tied to repetitiveness and mysticism. Then again, that could just be something I made up. My concerns are with having a task that was assigned to today. My calendar makes little effort to inform me of the days that have passed. Not a single one has been marked off in any way. My phone will tell me what I need to know if I could only focus my vision long enough to see the numbers past the blue glow. I don't really care. If I needed to do something today either I'll remember or someone will let me know. I could eat something. I don't really think I'm even hungry.
I wanted to walk to my kitchen but there seems to be someone standing at my front door. They're inside my house but I don't remember letting them in. I ask them if they're here. Not that I understood my own question but they answer anyway, telling me that they called me several times and knocked on my door while standing outside for the good part of an hour. I know who this is. This is my friend Kitty. She's not an actual cat, that I know of. I guess she's the one that's going to tell me what I need to do today. That or she's here to run my life for me just like everyone else.
I'm sure she would rather be nice to me. We've know each other for the last 12 years now. In all that time, we've only ever supported each other, even when we have dumb ideas. I tell her to sit down in the kitchen. I have to shower and get dressed. She tells me to put on something nice. I remember where we're going now. A funeral.
Story by: James D. Gray
Part 2 of ?
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