George, or The Modern Prometheus

Feeling thoroughly unproductive, George let the feeling of complete inaction wash over him. He waited patiently for an epiphany of some sort, for an idea to snap him out of obscurity, and into the faceless haze of society. Unfortunately for poor George, he was not the sharpest crayon in the box. Until it hit him...

...his mother never was very merciful with her feather duster.

“Five more minutes, dearest mother, I am pondering my life goals”

“Well, can you ponder them outside? I have company coming over.”

“You should support my cause, mother.”

“Do you see anyone else paying rent?”

A Tired Ending

The hall felt hot and stuffy, filled to its capacity with business types and very important persons who were altogether too comfortable being stuffy and full of hot air. I for one did not share in their habits, and only the intermittent applause kept me from blinking into a dream. But I should not lie to myself. Even I must admit to a sort of anticipation, the kind that keeps you awake in hot and stuffy halls. For on that day an announcement had been made. It would change the world. Then why? Why did I still feel so tired?

If you call someone dreamy, does that mean they're forgettable?

I have a few ideas swirling around in my head for a couple of stories, all of which would take minutes to write, but for some reason I don’t feel up to it. Chalk it up to laziness, warm weather, or laissez faire politics, but today is not the day for 100 words. Instead, I want to talk about something real. Something so underrated, it never sees the light of day. I want to talk...about dreams.

I had a dream a few nights ago that I still remember rather clearly, which is rare for me. Usually I can remember the situation, or an interesting event, but it fades away after a few minutes. Or, in a lot of situations, I don’t dream at all. Now, I’ve thought about this for a bit (Otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this, but that should be obvious, so let me get to my point) and I’ve found that there are three exceptions to my apparent dream amnesia.

1)    I know someone in the dream. Whether it’s about them, or they’re just randomly there, it doesn’t matter, having someone you know allows you to cling to the situation surrounding them. The whole dream might not come back, but you’ll say “Oh, so and so was in my dream, they ate a cheese sandwich” and you’ll feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing that they make an impact in your sub-consciousness. I still remember a dream in which a certain someone stabbed me in the chest with a hot iron. Needless to say, I woke up rather quickly. You know who you are!!! Which leads me to my next point.

2)    The dream puts me in a life-threatening situation. Nothing says a dream to remember like your mother driving you off a cliff or your father being chased by a serial killer. I can still remember a lot of the details of both dreams, even though they occurred many months or years ago. Dreams in this case behave like memories. People rarely remember what they had for afternoon tea, but they might remember that their butler poisoned their crumpets and in a wild plot twist the maid was their mother and also a secret agent and foiled the butler’s plans to inherit the estate. So...yes.

3)    However, this third situation doesn’t really scream “remember me!” In these dreams, I’m put into a very pressure filled situation. However, the pressure is always artificial and in rather mundane situations. I have an essay due in an hour, or I forgot my bike key, or I overslept for a meeting with a friend. No wait, that wasn’t a dream. Anywho, these dreams are defined by immense pressure, the sense that something bad is happening and you have to make certain decisions that are unfavorable. And when you finally wake up, it almost comes as a surprise, as the dream felt so real. But then you realize that you don’t even recognize the teacher, or that you haven’t lived in that house for a few years. At that point a wave of relief rushes over you, and maybe that’s what triggers the great memory. Knowing that your dream elicited an emotion so great as to make you feel relief when you wake up, rather than the usual morning routine of...whatever. The dream in question involved a book report in which I had not prepared for. While I was scrambling to make something up, the teacher started calling names to present, and I panicked. However, he stopped the first student after one sentence. Weird I know, but it gave me sudden hope. I had chosen some book that I had never read, and I doubt even exists, but when he called my name, I just winged it. I went with a book I know very well, Watership Down. I started talking about the courage it takes to change locations and blah blah blah, and then he stops me after a sentence or two. At which point I wake up, relieved. But the feeling of stress remained.

Now, what can I conclude from such dreams? Why would I be put in situations where stress is being applied? Aren’t I sleeping? Shouldn’t I be dreaming about beaches and happy places? Well, my take on it is rather simple. My brain is either preparing me for the situations in which I need to react to high stress and being unprepared, or maybe it’s trying to teach me that being unprepared in the first place is no bueno. Who knows? I’ll have to ask the next time I travel to dream land.

The elegance of the spoken word

My attempt at writing a story with a speech to text converter:

He came across a fork in the path he picked it up wondering why there'll be kitchen utensil middle of the road and hit after HuMoments upon kindness he decided that he was worthless think of such things so ephemeral mind of of what it this is hard to speak but whatever and so he stole FabForce unaware of his dire situation if the situation was that the followers pursuing assassin Peena that that for perhaps he would be safe Panaro CinCin sure if this is budget

...Yeah.

Imagine that

No one believes in my imaginary friend.

They say “He’s pulling your leg.” And to be perfectly honest? I believe them. He’s only of figment of my imagination, right?

It all started when I imagined that I would relax, until he showed up.

“Nobody believes in you.” he said. At least I imagined so.

“What do you mean?”

“All of my friends, they think you’re not real. They think you’re just my imaginary friend.”

“Are you saying that I’m the imaginary one?”

Now, not to be solipsistic or anything, but I’m only 5. I don’t know what the word means.

The cold, pebbled truth

Through the glass of the fishbowl, I see myself. It looks so sad, floating so swiftly yet without purpose. Day after day, just rushing through the circle of routine. No pause for reflection, it lives completely in the present. Does it realize that the world will soon end? Does it realize that its existence, so relatively unknown by society, will soon disappear along with its hopes and dreams? On rare occasions, it comes close. I even flirt with the idea that it knows me, loves me. I wish it would feed me those flakes soon. What was I saying again?

In a league of its own

Above the unfathomable depths of the blue behemoth known as the ocean, I set sail for an undetermined destination, chasing dreams as big as the waves. No crew to throw me overboard, I had just my trusty vessel, so aptly named Luna Sea. Yet no crazed ambition crossed my mind, just a healthy thirst for adventure, quenched only by the salty breeze.

And on that fateful night, what should come above the horizon but a monster, never seen by eyes to tell the tale. Gigantic beyond comparison, its yellow skin blinded me.

“Mom! I told you I hate rubber duckies!”

Update...oh and 100 words as well

I apologize for the brief hiatus, but finals are no fun. However! I’m free for the summer, so hopefully that should address my lack of consistency. I started this blog at the end of last summer, and I never really thought I would last through my first year of college. I guess I had more free time than expected. I should thank all of my followers, you have been all too kind for reading these silly stories. Hmm, I should stop being cheesy now. In the coming months, I plan on writing some longer pieces, so look forward to that.

Ahem...

They were completely surrounded, as opposed to just partially. A horde of unseen demons, haunting their every move. The heavy burden of their presence, never made known but always felt, took its toll on the group of once happy-go-lucky kids. Their former personalities were all but lost now, stolen by the atmosphere as easily as breath in the wind. They huddled together, determined to survive their ordeal.

To no avail. One by one, and occasionally by two, they were killed off in heartless fashion. The slaughter continued until all but one had perished, gasping “No...I must get...that...A+...”

Slip Up

The apartment lobby, a familiar scene, a familiar elevator, but only troubling thoughts consume me. “Has she forgotten me?” I mutter.

Ah.

In the corner of the elevator floor, normally so clean and undistracting, lies an old banana. Wrinkled, brown, the smell of the air suddenly becomes unpleasant, although mildly.

Why is there a banana here? No. Why would somebody leave a banana in the elevator? I can barely breathe. The tension is exhilarating. I can see all my problems for the farce they truly are. The doors open, and I hurry towards my fresh perspective...

...and also fresh air.

A name you can trust.

Hoho, you’ve come to the right man. But don’t think you’ve reached your destination by coming here. Changing your name requires a lot more than a past to run away from and subscription to Teen Vogue. Namely paperwork, paperwork, and...ahem...payment discussions. Did you see what I said there? Namely! Hoho, it’s a joke, stop frowning, boy. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, I changed my name when I was just a lad of 25. I’ll get you a new handle or my name isn’t Eustace Cornballer!

"Is it?"

Not anymore! Now stop making that face, and sign here.

I’ve realized that these long titles are nothing but a distraction for those kind blogs who have my humble little publication on display, and perhaps it would be selfish of me to create another but you know to hell with it, throw caution to the wind, I hear it flies well, or maybe it just likes a good breeze, don’t we all, no, okay but yes this is the last part of the arc because it’s just so hard to create tension in 100 words because it’s over before you know it, you know, I know, that’s why... (Part 2)

“Are we all agreed?”

“Yes.”

“...Yes”

Yes, it was obvious that we should stick together. With the scream still ringing in our ears, anything else would be idiocy. Still, our initiative to wait around wouldn’t garner us any information. Our location, our fate, we were blind in the darkness.

And then we were blinded by the lights. They gave us no comfort. We were situated on one end of a large ballroom, empty but for ourselves and a massive door. The ornate decorations provided a haunting contrast to the pit that separated us from freedom. And then I woke up.