Re-arranging the Dust
Posted 23 February 2012 - 11:05 AM
I light another cigarette barely seconds after I extinguish the last one. By now a normal person would seek help but I am not a normal person. Sometimes I wonder why I put myself through this and I realise that deep down inside I enjoy it. Whatís cooler then the guy sitting by himself with a cigarette hanging out from the side of his mouth? A guy doing that, but whom also has a black eye.
Where did the black eye come from? In all honesty I couldnít tell you. The story starts like this though; I light a cigarette and sit down. There is a foreign beer in front of me; I think itís a lager. I take a sip and place it back.
ĎI saw the girl of my dreams today on the bus;í I say, Ďshe was wearing a red dress and had her hair done up high.í
ĎDid she look like the girl on the train?í he replies.
She didnít look like the girl on the train. The girl on the train had knee high socks and glasses; she was also my dream girl. Every day I see my dream girl and every day my heart is broken.
ĎNo, she didnít.í I inform him, I doubt he wanted clarification anyway.
ĎIf sheís your dream girl why donít you say something to her?í he says.
I think about this a lot; I always tell myself that it would ruin the illusion by talking to her but really itís because I fear rejection. How do you talk to a girl youíve never met before? What do you say?
ĎI think you look nice,í and you stare her in the eyes and you give her a roguish smile and you light a cigarette, then you ask her if she wants a lift home and you ride your motorcycle off into the sunset. If life worked like that I would probably still be the same self-loathing piece of sh*t that I am but I would have a motorcycle.
I put the cigarette out and stand up, he is gone. He is probably playing World of Warcraft or some dumb sh*t, I open the fridge and grab a beer and drink it. I repeat this procedure until everything becomes a haze. I go to grab a cigarette from the packet but I am out. I am too drunk to drive but I will drive anyway because maybe if Iím lucky Iíll crash and I wonít have to go to work tomorrow, I wonít have to pay my bills tomorrow and I wonít have to talk to anyone ever again.
Driving drunk isnít as extreme as people make it sound, I donít get behind the wheel and suddenly feel the need for speed. I donít try to impress girls by driving sporadically on the road. I try to drive like I would when I am sober but itís harder to concentrate and sometimes my depth perception is thrown off by a few seconds.
I arrive at the store, I approach the counter and I ask for a twenty five of Dunhill Blues. I give the man a piece of paper which denotes some sort of economic value and he passes me tobacco leaves that have been processed and crammed into cylinders of paper. He also hands me back tiny pieces of metal with animals, numbers and a queens head imprinted on them.
On the drive home I smoke a cigarette. When I get upstairs I smoke a cigarette. Sometimes I fall asleep with a cigarette in hopes that maybe my bed will catch fire and I will go out in a flame of glory.
Unfortunately this does not happen and the next morning I wake up.
Posted 19 March 2012 - 08:29 AM
I hope for some longer posts from you but I understand the difficulty in making longer stories that don't encompass specific characters and plots, and rather, ideas and experiences. Regardless, I enjoy reading your work and I'm happy you've got the courage to post it, methods.
Posted 19 March 2012 - 07:29 PM
Posted 19 March 2012 - 07:56 PM
We've all wished not to wake up at least once.
Not bad, Writer. Not bad at all.
Posted 09 April 2012 - 01:26 AM
I think you nailed this one, stylistically, at the outset, but it slipped a little into cliche by the end. There's no rigid delineation between the two halves, mind - it's just the general sense I got as it progressed.
Posted 09 April 2012 - 06:03 PM
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