one night friend [pogue]
Feb 9, 2017 16:39:56 GMT -5
Post by solo on Feb 9, 2017 16:39:56 GMT -5
Riven Fowley
I understand now. I understand, I suppose, why my father spent so much time at the bar down the street. Why I had to help him through the nights he came home half-conscious and slurring his speech. A twisted version of the voice that used to tell us bed time stories when we were little. Not harsh, simply bent and broken and so different I could hardly recognize it. But I understand now. I always thought it was his own form of escapism, Now, I see that I was right.
I take another long sip of the pink, sparkly liquid. It burns like fire in my throat but now it's starting to fade slightly. Everything is fading. The edges are fuzzy, the colors mixed. Everything is slightly warped but I can't exactly put my finger on what's different. My head hurts from the thinking, and I put the puzzle away for later, up on the shelf next to my other unfinished pieces of work.
Small, childish fingers wrap tightly around the neck of the crystalline bottle, and I move to stand from my chair. I'm in the dining hall, where we all eat together. No one else is here because it's so late. Most of us don't stay past supper time. Now, it's what, 11? 12? There's a clock on the wall but it looks kind of foggy and I don't feel like walking over to check. I wonder in the back of my mind if maybe the thing is broken.
Slowly, carefully, I head out to the elevator, a content smile hovering on my lips. I'm humming something but I'm not sure what. A faint memory tugs at my mind but the fog pushes it away. It fills my mind, covering what's clear, pushing the important things into the farthest corners where I'm not sure I can reach. I'm scared that if I tried I'd tip over the edge, or perhaps become lost forever. A soft laugh escapes me at the idea.
I'm rising, soaring, flying, zipping past the other district's floors before arriving on the tenth. My feet carry me down the hall to one of the rooms. Not my room, is it? No no, this is the boy's, the...what's his name again? Oh yeah, Lazarus, like the dead guy. Or is he dead? I can't remember. I take another sip, and without really thinking, my hand moves and twists the handle. The door swings open in front of me, I lean against the frame, my head a good three feet or so from the top.
"Laz'ris!" I call cheerfully, and giggle at the sound of my own voice. It's different. Amusing. I wobble past the door, set my almost-empty bottle of shiny liquor down on a table, and fall back on the bed. A soft groan escapes me.
"My bed's so damn far, I think I'm just gonna stay here." I roll over onto my belly and trace my finger over the blankets. "Nice and soft...pretty colors, too."
Suddenly my brows knit together, I pout, and switch my position once again so I can sit up. I try to cross my arms, but that requires too much balance, so I rest my hands on the mattress. "Laz'ris where are you? I'm lonely."
I take another long sip of the pink, sparkly liquid. It burns like fire in my throat but now it's starting to fade slightly. Everything is fading. The edges are fuzzy, the colors mixed. Everything is slightly warped but I can't exactly put my finger on what's different. My head hurts from the thinking, and I put the puzzle away for later, up on the shelf next to my other unfinished pieces of work.
Small, childish fingers wrap tightly around the neck of the crystalline bottle, and I move to stand from my chair. I'm in the dining hall, where we all eat together. No one else is here because it's so late. Most of us don't stay past supper time. Now, it's what, 11? 12? There's a clock on the wall but it looks kind of foggy and I don't feel like walking over to check. I wonder in the back of my mind if maybe the thing is broken.
Slowly, carefully, I head out to the elevator, a content smile hovering on my lips. I'm humming something but I'm not sure what. A faint memory tugs at my mind but the fog pushes it away. It fills my mind, covering what's clear, pushing the important things into the farthest corners where I'm not sure I can reach. I'm scared that if I tried I'd tip over the edge, or perhaps become lost forever. A soft laugh escapes me at the idea.
I'm rising, soaring, flying, zipping past the other district's floors before arriving on the tenth. My feet carry me down the hall to one of the rooms. Not my room, is it? No no, this is the boy's, the...what's his name again? Oh yeah, Lazarus, like the dead guy. Or is he dead? I can't remember. I take another sip, and without really thinking, my hand moves and twists the handle. The door swings open in front of me, I lean against the frame, my head a good three feet or so from the top.
"Laz'ris!" I call cheerfully, and giggle at the sound of my own voice. It's different. Amusing. I wobble past the door, set my almost-empty bottle of shiny liquor down on a table, and fall back on the bed. A soft groan escapes me.
"My bed's so damn far, I think I'm just gonna stay here." I roll over onto my belly and trace my finger over the blankets. "Nice and soft...pretty colors, too."
Suddenly my brows knit together, I pout, and switch my position once again so I can sit up. I try to cross my arms, but that requires too much balance, so I rest my hands on the mattress. "Laz'ris where are you? I'm lonely."
THROUGH ALL MY MAKE BELIEVE
THERE'S SOME REALITY
THERE'S SOME REALITY
{Word Count: 538}
