Makyo in My Mind
hallucinations of the unconscious eye
The half-forgotten
Other half of my short life
In short story form

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?
Saturday, November 29, 2003

In a book store with my mom, I find an old book I wrote on free will. Another woman wants to buy it, but I take it from her and skim it. I tell her I don't 100% agree with it and give her some contact information where she can learn more. Both my mom and sister leave the store. I go outside, but this is a major metropoli;, the crowds are heavy and I don't see them.

Walking down the street, someone yells "Incoming!" as pancakes fall from the sky. I duck into an alley and out onto another street, finding my mom and sister among a group of people. They say I took too long in the store. In the streets, people are throwing pancake goop at the buildings for fun.

A task force descends in hovering balls of water, shooting the pancakes like skeet. The members of the task force are announced, one by one, each in the spotlight, as if this were some kind of show. Some receive cheers while others do not. Each pilots a special car or cycle. Nobody knows, but I'm actually better than all these people.

I walk through the midst of all these announcements. Nobody stops me. An official car, like an army jeep, comes by and stops right in front of me. A hot chick in the seat stops one of the pilots from approaching the vehicle, and instead says she wants me to sit there. I sit in the vehicle. She touches me knee and undoes my undershirt. It sure feels cooler now.

I'm sitting at a restaurant with my mom, dad, and sister. I meet KM there as well, but I forget her name and sit on the other side of the table, ignoring her. There's a TV playing in the restaurant, but we can't hear it. I make my mom tell my dad to turn it up.

As a member of the elite military, I'm working out in a training facility. We must rank how much we challenge ourselves by jumping great height and distance with weights in our hands. I do poorly and thus rank myself badly. I try again, however, and soar, almost as if I were flying. I try one-handed, but don't do so great. Bremer calls me on my cell phone. I tell him I could've gotten him a job here, but it's too late now.

Months go by, and I'm in my childhood street at night with the force. People are getting shot from guns in all the surrounding houses. Hiding in one of the side yards, I tell Bremer I probably won't live through the night. I figure I'll come back to my old house to get more stuff later, like food, but for now I just have one white bag.

I make my way through the side yards, away from the guns. Nobody follows me. I make it to behind an apartment complex. I climb a narrow wooden stairway. I see an old man who doesn't care about me. As I go up more stairs, I wonder if this is going to turn into a zombie movie.

There are two thin doors at the top, both locked, because they're apartments. I turn right and arrive onto a balcony that spans the entire complex. I walk more. I can see into the windows of the apartments. Many are inhabited, people non-violently watching TV.

I turn a left corner and see three girls walk by, talking about stretching or something. An old woman runs by and falls. I help her up. The girls come back from the other way, and the old woman comes back because she wants me to show her how I made a bracelet. I try to put it on her, but it's made of licorice and keeps breaking. Another old woman sprays water from above. I move out of the way, but the other old woman shouts at her and lets herself get wet.

Comments: Post a Comment