The exercise:
Write about: fatigue.
We had a couple of customers skip this week due to the switch in days, so we didn't have to harvest quite as much produce as usual today. I'm actually rather thankful for that.
Though that was partially countered by having to also pick and deliver a restaurant order on the same day.
It served as a good reminder of why we typically do these things on different days. Oh well, I shall sleep well tonight.
Mine:
I am awake. I am paying attention. I am taking perfect notes. The best of anyone in this classroom.
I am awake. I am paying too much money for this course. I am taking a night off tonight. I should be teaching this class.
I am awake. Did I remember to pay my electricity bill last week? Wouldn't coming home to a pitch black apartment be the perfect ending to this terrible day? I should make a note to double check that after class.
I am drifting. But only a little. There's only a few minutes left in class, I can make it. Why are my eyelids so friggin' heavy?
I am dreaming. I am soaring high above a crowd, everyone is paying attention to me. They are chanting my name in perfect unison. I am the best of anyone.
I am awake. I am.. where did everybody go?
2 comments:
You've been doing a lot of harvesting today then? Manual labour is by far the best way of assuring yourself of a good night's sleep! Though given the heat we've been having here, I'm not sure that even that would be enough to get through the night. Thankfully it's cooled just a little; night's that are just below 20 and days that are just above are the perfect balance if you ask me :)
I like the way you describe the fugue state that your narrator is in and how it moves through the various stages until the body gets the sleep it's craving. I've tried writing in that state before, and the results are always... interesting. Sometimes I look at perfectly constructed sentences that have nothing to do with anything before or after them and wonder just what was going on in my brain that that seemed like the appropriate thing to write!
Fatigue
He kneels before the shrine, all unfinished wood and unpolished aluminium. Matifa, Our Lady of Fatigue, stares at him with black-circled eyes, heavy eyelids and a look of weariness on her splintered, wooden face. There are three candles burning before her, and two extinguished ones that roll slightly, knocked over by some previous, exhausted supplicant.
He yawns, his mouth opening cavernously and the breath roaring out of him into the silence of chapel. He doesn't cover his mouth, this is homage to Matifa, and as he kneels he feels the soft, leaden touch of lethargy embracing him.
"My Lady," he whispers, fighting the urge to yawn again before he makes his request. "My Lady, my ex-wife travels home tonight, alone in a blue Ferrari. I pray you, visit her. Bless her with your numbing presence."
He yawns again hugely and wonders if it would be disrespectful to fall asleep in front of her. Then he remembers the offering, and pulls paper from a coat pocket. With trembling hands he takes his ex-wife's life-insurance policy and twists it into a taper to hold in the candle-flame. As it burns he is almost sure that a woman's hand draws gently across his brow and a soft kiss is laid on his cheek.
He smiles; thankfully he'd taken out more than one insurance policy on his ex-wife....
Greg - daytime highs of 25 are pretty ideal to me. We usually get a couple weeks of those in between summer heat and winter cold.
Hah, yes. Tired writing can be entertaining when reviewed the next day. Definitely been there, done that :)
Love the details and descriptions in this one. You really bring the scene to life... and what a chilling one it is.
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