The World As We Know It

He was wandering. He could feel it. Felt the motion of his feet, one leg stepping in front of the other. Felt the hard pebbles beneath his feet...or was it hard earth he couldn't tell...saw the glimmer of bright autumn leaves from underneath his eyelids and then in the same instant tasted fresh sea air...What?? He jerked awake but how could that be? Was he not already awake? A strange hum buzzed in his head, he felt dizzy and drowsy. Was he here or there? He crawled to the water's edge, the dark sands spread in waves before him...bent down and drank...the liquid tasted like ash, volcanic ash...but how could that be and how did he know how that tasted?

The last thing he remember was wandering into a quaint bookshop, sunlight streaming through the windows on a drowsy summer's day...he had headed straight for the classic section and stood tracing his fingers over the bright blue and red covers, opening several books and taking in that let's get lost in another world smell. Strolled past a couple giggling in a corner and there for no other reason but some philosophical necking out. Pass the bored girl at the counter draped in the classic oversized maroon sweater and round glasses all such clerks wore. He wondered idly if the outfit was a requirement to get the job.

But something had caught his eye as he wandered by. Saw it out of the corner of his eye, a glimmer that made him pause. Whirling around he had gone back. Bent down and fished it out from beneath the counter. "Excuse me miss, did you lose this?" He handed her the trinket. A heart shaped locket. She sniffed and pushed up her glasses, " I would never wear such a cheap piece, " she said dryly. He flushed and in the same instant felt an uncontrollable rage at her indifference. "Perhaps a child lost it?," he offered. But she had already turned her back to him busying herself with some meaningless task. He hesitated briefly and then pocketed the mediocre toy. Perhaps he could give it to his niece he thought. She was 5 years old and enjoyed all things girly and bright.

The girl's rudeness had dampened his day; the air in the bookstore suddenly felt stifling and heavy. He left quickly and decided to walk the short 2 blocks home. The city's buildings rose up tall and dark and he was startled to realize during the time he had been inside a storm had rolled in. He quickened his steps as the drops began to fall going against the throng of masked face rushing by him eager to seek refuge inside. He came to his street and ran the rest of the way to his house, a neat little cottage tucked at the very end of a cul-de-sac.

It was a curious cottage of sorts. Put together in a dilapidated sort of way, odd angles pushing out here and there. It looked like the work of care less contractors which was exactly what it was. Rooms and cupboards, stairs, and shelves added here and there at random times by random dwellers to suit their needs. He was the 6th tenant or perhaps the 100th. It was hard to tell with this sort of place, but it was cheap and all that he could afford in town. He was the typical college kid on a typical suck you dry until you die student loan program and budget. One more year and he would have his degree in IT. One more year of this shit and he would be making bank working for some corporate office or branching out on his own.

He had dreams of being the next Bill Gates and the skills to do it...but also the consciousness to realize that meant being a diehard selfish cutthroat. The pull of money and all its freedom whispered selfish stories to him...the deep heaviness of being more than kept him awake at night. He cursed out loud. Why the hell did he care about a world who didn't give one dogecoin about him? Who didn't even realize he existed? He could drop down and die this very instant and it wouldn't make the evening news. Instead the bulletin boards at school would offer a new vacancy the very next day to the future unlucky student.

God he hated himself sometimes. He felt the depression of his dark thoughts weighing down on him mirroring the heavy clouds outside. Stop it! he scolded himself sternly. Continued marinating would send him to bed to spend another useless restless night of self-recrimation. What had his therapist said? Oh yea, use thought stopping and distract himself. He threw on his old gray hoodie and shuffled to the door.

The rain was beating down, worse than ever. Sheet upon sheet, so fast and so thick he could barely see his neighbors' houses. What did he care about rain, he thought. He was gonna die today anyways. He stepped outside, lifted his face, and embraced the rain. The cold drops pelted his face and ran in rivers down his neck soaking his tshirt underneath. He laughed. If he was gonna die anyways, might as well be in a lightning storm. Bolt upon bolt streaked across the sky.

Now that he thought about it that storm had been weird. Bolt after lightning bolt? In solid torrential rain? Was he awake or was he dreaming still? He shivered pulling his hoodie over his head, curling up in a fetal position. He was beginning to feel really cold. Why is the sand so black, he wondered. The darkest he had ever seen. What was he laying on? Something smooth and cold, it pressed against his upper thing, restricting his blood flow...he traced his left hand gingerly down his leg, fingers brushing against the object. What was it? Oh his head! His head! The buzzing intensified, It's the beginning of the end, he thought wildly and then everything went black.

To be continued...if necessary...