Sorry guys! I was fully planning on posting Broken Reflections today … but … yeah. Anyways. While just laying around this evening after school, this idea shot to my mind, so I sat down and wrote it. I was planning on posting it next week – but for all of you good little readers/followers, I thought that I’d give you some frequent posts. 😉
So this is another short story (sorry guys… 😉 ), and I’m having a TON of fun writing all of these! This was something a little different since I wrote in the present tense versus past (something that I like to do … but I mindlessly slip back into the past), and I have a bunch of lyrics to a song intermixed.
Speaking of which, the song that I have throughout this is Good Life by OneRepublic. Here‘s the music video (I haven’t watched it in full … so I don’t know how appropriate it is. Also, there’s one bad word in the song, but I had to listen to the song quite a few times to actually notice it.).
Headphones firmly plugged into my ears, I lay on my back on the living room floor. My tired eyes perceiving the textured ceiling in a funny way, making it look as if it were composed of waves.
Woke up in London yesterday
Found myself in the city near Piccadilly
Mom called me one of those “What If-ers,” but not like the dreamers. Take now, for example. The boiling ceiling. I was picturing that some of the little manufactured bumps drop and stab me in the eye. It was just natural. For me, at least.
Dad called me a “Vision-Seer.” And that was being gentle. Again, right now was a perfectly good example. You know the stabbing in the eye that I was picturing? Yeah, well the tiny, spiky projectile was hurtling towards my eye, and-
Day turns to night, night turns to whatever we want
We’re young enough to say
It was flaring in my eye, liquid leaking out in a way that, surprisingly, wasn’t too grotesque. My hand flew to my damaged eye nearly immediately.
My grunt of pain brought Mom in from the coming-baby’s nursery. Concern etched her face, but she didn’t seem too surprised.
When everything is out
You gotta take it in
I sit up, pushing past the pain in a way that could only be done by our mutual friend: adrenaline.
Even though my hand is tightly clenched over my eye, like a vise, I can tell that all vision had been lost thus far.
Say oh, got this feeling that you can’t fight
Like this city is on fire tonight
Mom tsks and walks to me, a hand on her round belly. I stand, and she walks me to the nearby couch, sitting me down and rubbing my back in annoying little circles.
I lean back against the couch, once again staring at the ceiling. It’s boiling much more fervently, now. I can see little cracks along the edges. The ceiling is going to collapse. I just know it.
To my friends in New York, I say hello
My friends in L.A. they don’t know
I yank Mom to her feet, raising a yelp – though an unsurprised one – and pull her, trying to shove her out the front door.
She digs her heels in, protesting all the way, but I’m much stronger; especially in her weakened condition.
When you’re happy like a fool
Let it take you over
Mom has just barely gotten out the front door, when the dust begins to fall. I pause. Look up. Stare.
The cracks spread.
The ceiling starts to cave.
I open my eyes.
I’m lying down. I lay still for a decent while. Just staring up at the ceiling. All those cracks that had been there before now gone…
I feel like like there might be something that I’ll miss
I feel like the window closes oh so quick
I’m taking a mental picture of you now
The hope is we have so much to feel good about
Mom’s over me. Her concerned look amplified, a phone in hand that holds Dad’s unphotogenic smile.She mentions the hideous word therapist. Not good.
I blink a few, lazy blinks.
The music is still playing. Mom and the baby are still okay. The ceiling is no longer damaged.
This could really be a good life, oh yeah
A good, good life
Just a normal day.