I woke up in his brothers bed. Their house. I'm going to text Magin when he is coming back from vacation. For now, more dreams... The one eyed cat flashed me a mischievous grin as he hopped off the throne. This was a throne of kings, burnished 24k gold laced with silver dating back to Caesar's Roman Empire. How did I know this? And why in world is there a one eyed cat looking at me? DREAM. It's just a dream...I know this, yet I am still dreaming and the cat is still pacing. Being that there is no obvious way to wake up I think I may experiment. "Hoy cat!" no response. So much for experimenting.WOAH. As I glance back at the cat to judge its reaction, it was no longer a cat but a one eyed rat. What is going on. Have I kicked the bucket and went to hell? I looked for a way out as I started to panic, trying my hardest to keep the paranoia out. Until I look at my hands. These are not my hands. These are the hands of a old man. Emaciated and crusted over from constant work and wear. as i open them, the skin tears, light fills my vision and here I am, back in Magin's room. I stare out of bed at the huge room and the sunlight bursting in through every hole. How does Magini sleep like this I wonder... Too much light. I rub my eyes and hop out of bed, calling benny to see what he's up to. I put on some of Magin's clothes and head downstairs for a glass of water. What a weak breakfast for such a long and demented night. A taco and cheese taquito would satisfy right now I think to myself. Ah well Benny isn't picking up, i'll just head over and break in if I have to. Wake the bugger up. Maybe even get back into the haze of daily life. As Ghandi says, live life as if you were to die tommorow. I head down to the garage, trying every key on the ring without success. Damnit. I guess the train will suffice. With vigor, i trot down the stone path out of Magin's exotic blue house and head towards the train down sheridan. Feeling no inclination to observe the world, I keep my head down until I reach the train station. I was never a person to have a bad or good feeling about a situation, unlike some who seem to have almost oracle like thoughts. Things happen for a reason I guess. I smoothly hopped the turnsile as the CTA worker turned his head. One of the benefits of being a teenager in pristine health. It doesn't help that my habits keep me totally oblivious. In agreement with this thought I do not notice the oncoming train, free of a conductor.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I like the style of writing you use BUT I don’t see where the story is going to go in the end. What is the character going to do, where is he going to go what does he have planed. It is a good paragraph I really do like it. Why don’t you make the character walk through a wood?, (If there is one by your house because it has to be based in a really place by your house.) Make him run into someone that changes him with a simple phrase, or get a party set up somewhere.
Make him tag something that is so amazing.
Post a Comment