Once again, I’m here to share some of my old bits of writing practice! I hope you can get some kind of enjoyment from either reading them, or the idea of doing these little bits of writing in your free time. Maybe you’ll enjoy doing it. They say to keep doing the thing you love. An artist sketches and doodles, so a writer should write as often as he or she can—fragments of a scene, little thoughts, etc.
Here we are with possibly the last of my old stuff too. Well, the old stuff I’m willing to share. Even an open individual has creations they prefer to keep secret, either for future projects, or because they’re too embarrassing share. Hah!
The sun began to rise as morning came, which was to be expected. Though, it was comforting just to see something regular—something predictable. To him it was an anchor that kept him on the ground of sanity.
There was only a engine’s gentle humming to awaken him—the adventurous glitch. Though, this wasn’t odd. It wasn’t different at all. In fact, if there had been anything else, then it would have baffled him. For a week there had been no weird happenings, disturbing noises, action, or danger. He would have given anything for a different bird to chirp, or the oven to light on fire, but he had to stay hovering above the planet for just a bit longer.
But then, he woke up. It was only a dream to be so horribly bored on that morning. In fact, he was awakened by the deafening repeating blinking red alarm lights. Everything was red, and he had no idea what was going on. Yet, he would have smiled if he had a mouth.
Every single time the warm glow of the sun drifted behind the horizon of the city’s towering houses and business, I would leave my house, and simply walk. It was not a walk of joy, nor one of sadness mind you, but one of absolute disconnection. I wanted to be alone, though it’s sad to admit that no matter what, I was the only person completely on my own.
The streets were like tangled mess of a cobweb, but as a spider wishes, the stands are stretched so thin that no insect can see where one bit starts, and the other ends. My eyes watched the various people move up and down various directions, each of them thinking—not speaking—and I knew only that the only thing I couldn’t know, was how much they knew about me knowing.
You see, everybody moving up, down, left, and right on this grid of concrete, glowing faintly with the lights of countless shops and homes, could read the minds of each other. I was different, however, and one could say that’s a blessing. It wasn’t.
Each day, I’d wake up, brush my teeth, and head to the same job with the same people, and they would never speak. Atleast, I don’t think they would. It was difficult to tell, but the way they looked at each other made me suspicious. Glances shifted, twisted, turned, and spoke in themselves, but I couldn’t translate. Sometimes, I’d swear words would come from their mouths, and they would, but it was meaningless banter. It never changed.
The air on that night’s walk was especially chilly, even though it was only mid-July. My hands hid in my pockets, but I had nothing to keep hidden—not my hands, not my thoughts. I shuddered to think what it would be like to be part of this spider’s web. Sometimes though, I wished I was. What would it be like to be the same as everybody else? What would it be like to no longer be free?
I made my way home when the moon reached the center of the sky, although I never meant to be out so long. I usually returned after an hour or two. Either way, I proceeded through my apartment door, and into my kitchen, and into my bathroom.
It was there I started at myself. Of course, that’s all one would see when looking into a reflection, though for some reason that night, it was much different than normal. Usually, I would see my own face, blank and somber, while I would prepare for another rest upon my bed’s cool embrace. Instead of nothing, there was something, and that was strange. In my eyes, I hear my own thoughts. I could read my own mind. That sounds odd to most, but I assure you, this was something much more than I’d ever thought to experience. Everything came clear to me, and it was almost overwhelming. In fact, that’s a lie. It was more than I could take, and I nearly fell to my knees.
My mind was not meant to be part of anyone else’s, and that made me realize the strength of said imagination, creativity, and everything that made me who I was. The grid was not something I was missing, nor was it something of which I yearned.
I was free.
A fiery sky, torn asunder
Leaving us afraid of thunder.
Always alone, a cold embrace
Forever cold but reddish face.
Lost again, all is black
And nothing else is coming back.
Lies I tell, face is sad
All in all it ain’t so bad.
Start again, dawn is new
Now again I’m pulling through.
Black and white, something seen
Green and blue I see between.