Starting Anew
Sunlight filtered by soft white blinds cast a yellowed glow on his face. As it warms his skin stubbled by black hair threatened by shades of grey, he begins to stir. Crows feet about the corners of his eyes flex and give way to his eyes opening, his chest expanding with the inhalation of breath. The weight of his lids seem immense as he struggles to grasp reality, but is threatened to be pulled back into darkness which swirls at the peripheral of sight. He turns his head and curls his body upon the futon mattress that is his bed, and he finds himself slipping back into the arms of sleep. It's not unlike finding comfort in the arms of your lover, a gentle embrace that makes you sigh in relief.
"Help me." it's a whisper that flutters through his mind, touching his spine in an icy tingle that flows from the base of his brain and crawls along each nerve each vertebrae. "Help me." The child like voice whimpers in his ear. It slips around his heart and begins to squeeze.
Gregor bolts from his bed, tendrils of shadow peeling away to reveal his room. The pile of clothes off in the corner no longer a huddled mass of someone goading his conscience. He rubs his eyes with the back of his left hand, slowly laying down on the small square pillow once more. The sun is annoying in its persistent heat, he escapes it by gathering himself up and coming to a stand. As he passes by the mirror on his metallic chest of drawers, he sees a 5'11" man staggering along. Hair shorn, slightly canted eyes from parents that weren't any one race, he passes a hand over his stubbled beard. Deeply reddened eyes blink back before the man is in the bathroom. Cold tile upon his feet bring little relief to the inferno building within him.
His hands support his furling body over the sink, musculature visible and strained. His ears ring as his vision blacks for a moment, never quite capable of standing the sight of his own vomit. He wretches. Black and various shades of red and green fill the sink and begin to flow into the drain. It tastes of half digested blood, typical, and he congratulates himself on another day of being exactly the same as before. He turns the water on to hurry the stench of vomit away.
Airily, he hears his own voice echo about the bathroom. "Here's to today Gregor. One foot in the grave."
"Help me." it's a whisper that flutters through his mind, touching his spine in an icy tingle that flows from the base of his brain and crawls along each nerve each vertebrae. "Help me." The child like voice whimpers in his ear. It slips around his heart and begins to squeeze.
Gregor bolts from his bed, tendrils of shadow peeling away to reveal his room. The pile of clothes off in the corner no longer a huddled mass of someone goading his conscience. He rubs his eyes with the back of his left hand, slowly laying down on the small square pillow once more. The sun is annoying in its persistent heat, he escapes it by gathering himself up and coming to a stand. As he passes by the mirror on his metallic chest of drawers, he sees a 5'11" man staggering along. Hair shorn, slightly canted eyes from parents that weren't any one race, he passes a hand over his stubbled beard. Deeply reddened eyes blink back before the man is in the bathroom. Cold tile upon his feet bring little relief to the inferno building within him.
His hands support his furling body over the sink, musculature visible and strained. His ears ring as his vision blacks for a moment, never quite capable of standing the sight of his own vomit. He wretches. Black and various shades of red and green fill the sink and begin to flow into the drain. It tastes of half digested blood, typical, and he congratulates himself on another day of being exactly the same as before. He turns the water on to hurry the stench of vomit away.
Airily, he hears his own voice echo about the bathroom. "Here's to today Gregor. One foot in the grave."
posted by Prata | Monday, January 09, 2006
7 Comments:
gleeful it's working.
Leesa. We've not ironed it out yet I don't think. I'm pondering that as we speak. Personally, I've come up with the following ideas.
1. A futuristic setting involving a man drafted into the military and his struggle to maintain humanity.
2. A modern day setting involving a child eluding the authorities on a technological crime spree 'just for fun'.
3. A corporate intrigue in 'no so distant future' or 'very futuristic' setting seeking to quell a spreading scandal.
4. The next world war, and the examination of the human condition when politics and draft dodging places straings on a relationship.
5. Any combination of the 4 in any way shape or form.
I'm open to suggestion! Anyone care to come up with somethin'? And really...who posts first? I elect Leesa! Since umm...well you're the first person that came to mind. Glee!
Wow, I like it. Go head Prata.
I don't like this one as much, because it seems to me like it's trying too hard to paint a picture. The next post up does a better job of being descriptive and engaging, without trying too hard. It's a fine line that's tough to straddle.
I know, I know, everybody's a critic!
Thanks man. I'll "tone it down"! ^_^ hehehe...(murmurs, "bleeding critics") j/k!
The one thing that we all will need to deal with is pace. It is hard enough determining pace in a book one writes herself; with a group affair, pace may end up making it sound a bit stiff, a bit slow, or we may do great.
I am just having fun seeing where this will lead us.
Beautiful Prata---very descriptive. I could never write as well as this! This is incredible!
Thanks!
But I'm sure you could if you really wanted too hehe. We can't wait to see what you throw up!
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