9th Ethereal
02-10-2012, 11:47 AM
It's for my class, but I haven't really been able to get the effect I originally planned for, so I'm worried it falls short and that it's just terrible now. I still have to put a little in but it's essentially done. Tell me what you think so far please
You know how a lot of stories begin, right? Everything had been going smoothly, nice and normal, until a little after the beginning of the story. And then! Just a little after the start, the moon disappears, or Gandalf shows up at your door, or the cow comes out of the milk. Anyway, you get what I'm saying, right? Well at the start of this story, which I believe is a little before this moment unless you've been reading it very slowly, strange and mysterious things had been happening for quite some time. To be honest I wish I had a little more time, but you'll have to try to follow along.
A few days ago I was with Ralph at a concert. It wasn't a well known band or anything, so we were standing around talking to the bassist afterwards. Actually, I should say Ralph was talking, I couldn't care less what this high ******* had to say.
"They call them the fine arts, painting and sculpting… and drawing and stuff. Music is a performing art, not that that word is bad. But the other arts are the fine ones, more suited to the finer people. Who is anyone to tell me what's fine. What do you think… hey, where's your friend going."
I walked outside and looked into the sky. I really don't like listening to people talk, especially not stupid people talking about stupid topics. I stay out of politics. I like looking into the sky. The sky reminds me, and it doesn't make me angry or yell at me or call me weird. The strangest part of that night is that I only cried a little.
I had a dream the next night. It wasn't strange that I had a dream. We actually have dreams just about every night, but unless you have good dream recall or lucky timing you won’t remember them nearly as often. I'll have you know that I have excellent dream recall, I guarantee it's better than all of your friends. My dream memories are usually very vivid, but they tend to be excruciatingly boring. People are always talking about dreams where they're flying and jumping a hundred feet high, an exciting dream for me is sitting at a table with an interesting wood grain. What was strange was that tonight, my dream was legitimately cool. I was looking up at the night sky, accept the sky wasn't just above me, it was all around. The ground was so far below it was just a concept. Suddenly I heard the roaring sound of a train and woke up.
It was the middle of the night, that time a couple of hours before dawn when the only people you have to share the waking world with are the insomniacs. I heard the sound of a train honking in the distance. I got up and walked into the den and heard the noise again, a little louder. I looked out the window, all was still accept a light snowfall spread between the Earth and the sky. The noise leaked through the wall again, still growing louder. There were no train tracks within 50 miles of here. I walked over to the kitchen counter. Should I call the police? Should I wake Ralph? A moment later there was a crash louder than any noise you've ever heard as a train burst through my wall, heading towards me full speed. Then I woke up for real.
The day after that wasn't a good one. I hated people that day. I was full of it like a balloon that's about to burst. I couldn’t walk down the street without thinking a degrading thought about every other person I saw. Didn't they appreciate anything? Didn’t they understand or think deeply? How could they have allowed themselves to change so much? Don't they realize how insecure they are? Ralph was with me. He understood, sometimes. I sat on a bench in a park for a little while and a homeless man came up to me and gave me a dollar. Some part of me gated him too, although the other park know it wasn't warranted. That night I slept like a baby, no tears or strange dreams..
The next night, I sat in the den. It was dark. I was crying. Not the deep sobs of some recent tragedy, but the quiet ones that the body has practiced many times. I was just crying about the sorts of things people cry about. Crying for long remembered things like looking at the stars,------------- and --------. I felt Ralph's presence behind me.
"Look around."
I raised my head and looked around the room with wet eyes. I saw stars all around me. In the dark the lights on the cable box, the carbon monoxide detector and the stereo gleamed like a full ethereal night sky just for this room.
"See."
He rested his hand on my shoulder and didn't say a word for three days.
The next morning I put some cereal in a bowl. Pulled the milk out of the fridge and poured a cow out of it. Then I walked over to the table and ate breakfast.
You know how a lot of stories begin, right? Everything had been going smoothly, nice and normal, until a little after the beginning of the story. And then! Just a little after the start, the moon disappears, or Gandalf shows up at your door, or the cow comes out of the milk. Anyway, you get what I'm saying, right? Well at the start of this story, which I believe is a little before this moment unless you've been reading it very slowly, strange and mysterious things had been happening for quite some time. To be honest I wish I had a little more time, but you'll have to try to follow along.
A few days ago I was with Ralph at a concert. It wasn't a well known band or anything, so we were standing around talking to the bassist afterwards. Actually, I should say Ralph was talking, I couldn't care less what this high ******* had to say.
"They call them the fine arts, painting and sculpting… and drawing and stuff. Music is a performing art, not that that word is bad. But the other arts are the fine ones, more suited to the finer people. Who is anyone to tell me what's fine. What do you think… hey, where's your friend going."
I walked outside and looked into the sky. I really don't like listening to people talk, especially not stupid people talking about stupid topics. I stay out of politics. I like looking into the sky. The sky reminds me, and it doesn't make me angry or yell at me or call me weird. The strangest part of that night is that I only cried a little.
I had a dream the next night. It wasn't strange that I had a dream. We actually have dreams just about every night, but unless you have good dream recall or lucky timing you won’t remember them nearly as often. I'll have you know that I have excellent dream recall, I guarantee it's better than all of your friends. My dream memories are usually very vivid, but they tend to be excruciatingly boring. People are always talking about dreams where they're flying and jumping a hundred feet high, an exciting dream for me is sitting at a table with an interesting wood grain. What was strange was that tonight, my dream was legitimately cool. I was looking up at the night sky, accept the sky wasn't just above me, it was all around. The ground was so far below it was just a concept. Suddenly I heard the roaring sound of a train and woke up.
It was the middle of the night, that time a couple of hours before dawn when the only people you have to share the waking world with are the insomniacs. I heard the sound of a train honking in the distance. I got up and walked into the den and heard the noise again, a little louder. I looked out the window, all was still accept a light snowfall spread between the Earth and the sky. The noise leaked through the wall again, still growing louder. There were no train tracks within 50 miles of here. I walked over to the kitchen counter. Should I call the police? Should I wake Ralph? A moment later there was a crash louder than any noise you've ever heard as a train burst through my wall, heading towards me full speed. Then I woke up for real.
The day after that wasn't a good one. I hated people that day. I was full of it like a balloon that's about to burst. I couldn’t walk down the street without thinking a degrading thought about every other person I saw. Didn't they appreciate anything? Didn’t they understand or think deeply? How could they have allowed themselves to change so much? Don't they realize how insecure they are? Ralph was with me. He understood, sometimes. I sat on a bench in a park for a little while and a homeless man came up to me and gave me a dollar. Some part of me gated him too, although the other park know it wasn't warranted. That night I slept like a baby, no tears or strange dreams..
The next night, I sat in the den. It was dark. I was crying. Not the deep sobs of some recent tragedy, but the quiet ones that the body has practiced many times. I was just crying about the sorts of things people cry about. Crying for long remembered things like looking at the stars,------------- and --------. I felt Ralph's presence behind me.
"Look around."
I raised my head and looked around the room with wet eyes. I saw stars all around me. In the dark the lights on the cable box, the carbon monoxide detector and the stereo gleamed like a full ethereal night sky just for this room.
"See."
He rested his hand on my shoulder and didn't say a word for three days.
The next morning I put some cereal in a bowl. Pulled the milk out of the fridge and poured a cow out of it. Then I walked over to the table and ate breakfast.