Write about: the discovery.
I made it. Put it down in the books, it is done and over with. My stretch of working ten of the last twenty days is behind me.
Let it stand as a reminder of why I don't want to work that often in January. Winter is my time of rest; the remaining seasons more than make up for this more leisurely schedule.
Anyway. Technically I'm working tomorrow night as well, but it's hard to count that. Ninety-five percent of the time I'll just be bowling and hanging out anyway. And maybe campaigning for Tuesday nights to become a casual bowling night, rather than coming to a screeching halt at the end of the month.
Finally, here is a picture I took yesterday of Max exploring the wood pile:
Mischievous little monkey.
Mine:
All that time spent searching through crumbling tomes in stuffy libraries. Fingers, hair, clothing coated in dust as the words tumbled before my eyes, twisting and turning as they attempted to keep their secrets hidden.
Those endless hours conducting interviews with difficult, awkward, sleep-inducing academics. Suffering beneath their pompous gazes, keeping my murderous thoughts disguised by an engaged smile. Thanking them for their time when they had only wasted mine.
The travel. Practically living in airports all over the world. It is a wonder I kept my apartment, that I was still willing to pay rent for a place I so very rarely saw.
So much more as well, but to think that after such dedication and persistence... that my greatest discovery would be within myself.
3 comments:
I think you're getting too close to the land, calling Winter your time of rest! You should look up the legend of the Fisher King :) Max exploring the woodpile is a great picture; he looks intrigued and very pleased with himself at the same time. And I see he's resisting the urge to climb on it and give you a heart-attack when you spot him up near the top!
I love the imagery in the first paragraph of your tale, and I can completely sympathize with the second paragraph. I, too, am a master of thanking people for wasting my time :) The ending is quite intriguing... you're good at creating these little hooks for stories.
The discovery
Sirens howl, a banshee-like wailing that shatters the silence of the night and brings sleepers to bright-eyed, terrified wakefulness. Parents spring out of bed, pulling on coats and shoes over nightwear, not stopping to put on daytime clothing. They hurry into children's bedrooms, shaking awake those managing to sleep through the mournful scream and hurrying others into coats and shoes as well. Everyone is out of their house and hurrying down the street in less than five minutes from when the sirens started.
The air is still, humid, not cool enough. Summer is lingering, but no-one has the time to appreciate it. The howl is louder outside, and gets louder as the people hurry towards it, letting it guide them to the shelter.
Only to discover that the bombs got there first, and where the entrance to the underground shelter should have been is a pile of rubble and torn-asunder earth. As the siren dies, the drone of aircraft can be heard coming closer.
Deep
In the
South basement lurks a
Cat
Of
Very large size with
Eyes of
Ruby red and it's coming to eat
You!
Greg - just wait until I start hibernating for months at a time...
And I think I shall look that up, as you have me intrigued.
That's a grim picture you've painted for us, and the feeling of hopelessness really kicks in with your final line.
Morganna - eek! Well done with your acrostic, as usual :)
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