Post by kangaroo cry on Aug 26, 2009 11:57:39 GMT -5
Okay. This is the start of a story that I do not plan on continuing. Maybe one day, maybe as a side thing, maybe maybe maybe. Since I was planning on continuing it when I wrote it, that's why it just kind of ends and sounds like there should be something else there. I'm only posting this because I found it yesterday and really liked how I'd written it. This never actually had a plot. More like I thought this was happening to me and then I got the idea: "this might make an interesting story." But I only got so far. There's nothing to this beyond the bicycle. So that is why it's aptly titled:
"The Bicycle"
The first time I saw the bicycle I was trying (and failing) to grip the wall and looking desperately for something to hold on to—metaphorically as well as physically. I was rocking my way through one of those many moments in my life that was just lacking all kinds of things—balance, for starters, I acknowledged as I fell to my knees, giving up on staying on my feet. The world was a blurry, hazy mess, like I was trying to look at it through a cloud and it wasn’t working out, but I still managed to see the bicycle and I followed it with my eyes the whole way to the ground.
The day was melting. It was lacking a lack of heat. If I were a dog, I’d’ve been panting big time. But I’m not a dog, and I only make comparisons like that involving myself when I’m really in need of some sleep, which is, if I had to guess, what I needed right now. Buckets of it. I hadn’t fainted yet, but I was so dizzy I could only guess something along those lines was going to happen sometime soon if I wasn’t careful.
One of the things I wasn’t lacking was an audience. I was a step away from the doors to my school and the last bell of the day had just rung. There were crowds of students floating around still, but not one of them noticed me as I was falling. It was like the ringing of a timer, time’s up, and now all of them don’t have to be nice to me or even pretend like they know my name, because chances are they don’t. There are the few nice people who would help me up from my knees even though the timer had rung, and ask if I was okay whether they cared or not, but none of them were around right now.
In my disturbed and tired state, the bicycle seemed like a sign. Yes, I’d seen it as a sign from the very first moment. I’d never been very intuitive so I couldn’t tell how I was supposed to read the sign, or even what language it was in. But I made sure to follow it, watch it as it peddled its way down the sidewalk in front of my school. It didn’t do anything unexpected, just made its way like a normal bike over the surfaces of the earth before disappearing out of my viewing range. To me, it seemed like it was trying to tell me something. I passed it off as lack of sleep and pre-faint talking, or maybe as an image created in the melting of the sidewalk.
Critique, comments, give me all you got.
"The Bicycle"
The first time I saw the bicycle I was trying (and failing) to grip the wall and looking desperately for something to hold on to—metaphorically as well as physically. I was rocking my way through one of those many moments in my life that was just lacking all kinds of things—balance, for starters, I acknowledged as I fell to my knees, giving up on staying on my feet. The world was a blurry, hazy mess, like I was trying to look at it through a cloud and it wasn’t working out, but I still managed to see the bicycle and I followed it with my eyes the whole way to the ground.
The day was melting. It was lacking a lack of heat. If I were a dog, I’d’ve been panting big time. But I’m not a dog, and I only make comparisons like that involving myself when I’m really in need of some sleep, which is, if I had to guess, what I needed right now. Buckets of it. I hadn’t fainted yet, but I was so dizzy I could only guess something along those lines was going to happen sometime soon if I wasn’t careful.
One of the things I wasn’t lacking was an audience. I was a step away from the doors to my school and the last bell of the day had just rung. There were crowds of students floating around still, but not one of them noticed me as I was falling. It was like the ringing of a timer, time’s up, and now all of them don’t have to be nice to me or even pretend like they know my name, because chances are they don’t. There are the few nice people who would help me up from my knees even though the timer had rung, and ask if I was okay whether they cared or not, but none of them were around right now.
In my disturbed and tired state, the bicycle seemed like a sign. Yes, I’d seen it as a sign from the very first moment. I’d never been very intuitive so I couldn’t tell how I was supposed to read the sign, or even what language it was in. But I made sure to follow it, watch it as it peddled its way down the sidewalk in front of my school. It didn’t do anything unexpected, just made its way like a normal bike over the surfaces of the earth before disappearing out of my viewing range. To me, it seemed like it was trying to tell me something. I passed it off as lack of sleep and pre-faint talking, or maybe as an image created in the melting of the sidewalk.
Critique, comments, give me all you got.