Posts tagged with .storytime.

[002] Union

Warmth. Warmth embraced the young boy as light shone on his face. Rubbing his crusted eyes, he tore himself from the confines of his comfortable bed and welcomed the new day.

“Just a dream,” the boy thought to himself as he got up.

He didn’t bother to change his clothes. He wouldn’t need to look presentable where he’s going.

The day has, at last, arrived. Weeks of preparation and planning, all for this glorious day.

“This time,” the boy mumbled, “I will not fail.”

With each step towards the kitchen, he felt the chains lighten and fade away. For weeks, whenever the boy washed the dishes, he would feel this strangely familiar compulsion. Normally, a simple daydream would banish this compulsion. Lately however, this feeling has been getting more and more difficult to efface until soon enough, it constantly hung over him no matter his activity.

As the boy brandished his cherished fragment of light and revelled at its sheer luminosity, he became aware of his surroundings. The dead silence. It felt wrong. It felt as if the silence formed a dome around him, preventing the light from being in contact with him.

Abruptly, the boy stuffed his earphones and chose his favourite song: “Flightless Bird, American Mouth.” Once the melody pervaded his ears, he instantly felt at ease and returned to marvel at his fragment of light. The boy held his shimmering treasure close to his arm. He valued this more than anything else in the world.

Without further hesitation, he swiped his treasure across akin to drawing a sword. The kitchen was illuminated by the refracting light for a split second. Then there was warmth.

“Funny,” thought the boy. “I never thought that silver and brown makes red.”

October 18 2011 • 09·01 am • 5 notes
#.storytime   #002   #Personal   #Yours truly  

[001] Faded

Gradually, the world became a lonelier place for the boy. The world’s colours were seemingly swept away, leaving behind shades of black and grey. No longer can he hear the music of the world. The psalm of the planet that he once cherished, now inaudible. The voices that once brought him glee, the shining faces of those whom he loved and loved him in return - they are all but a fleeting memory, edging slowly into the void.

The boy lifted up his left arm, revealing a broken watch. With eyes whose glimmer has disappeared, he studied his father’s memento. Through the cracked glass, the second hand can be seen moving, struggling to do its job to chronicle the passage of time. To no avail. Try as it might, the hand merely returns to its previous position, as if pushed back by an invisible hand. Nonetheless, it struggles, it fights.

“Oh, kindred spirit…” whispered the boy before he too fled to the land where his dreams were kept.

August 29 2011 • 03·09 am
#001   #Original   #Yours truly   #.storytime