Foster had a small fish tank on the book case with a glowing blue neon light that shone through the particles floating in the water. The little, microscopic bits of dust and excrement appeared as millions of little planets, floating through the murky abyss towards some uncertain fate down at the bottom of the tank, where the red pebbles appeared as shards of sharp rock, treacherous and unforgiving.
The fish. How glorious those two little goldfish were. I stood there; my back hunched looking at the reflection of the blue light in the yellow scales, hunting for the faintest glow of green, created when the two colors came together at just the perfect wavelength. I must have stood there for half an hour, slack jawed, making little excited noises when one of the fish moved suddenly. This was beauty. This was real. This was everything in the universe, placed inside a plastic cage and illuminated with artificial light.
Emily finally stood up and walked to the door.
"Would you like to go downstairs?" I looked at her sideways. She didn't seem to be holding still. Her whole body seemed to me like a watercolor painting that someone had forgot to bring in out of the rain.
"Wh-what's downstairs?" I clenched my eyes shut quickly a few times to try and clear them.
"People. I want to see people." I followed her wordlessly out of the office down the hall towards the stairs. The fish tank had changed things. I was in real time now, experiencing what I was seeing as it happened. As we approached the stairs, I got a little panicky. They seemed steeper than I remembered, and they were dark and difficult to see. I watched in horror as Emily was swallowed by darkness. I felt my way along the wall, making quick, staggered breaths and seeing her disappear farther and farther away.
The floor appeared finally below my probing feet. Emily was there, looking down the hallway past the speakers and out the front door, which was open. I could hear people, people all around us. We were surrounded, this was the thick of it. Emily moved forward and my hand fell on her back instinctively. She guided me down the hall, through the dinning room where people were sitting and smoking from a bong. It was dark in there and their feet were on the table. They looked up at us when we passed but I couldn't see their faces. As we moved out of the room, I said:
"Emily, I couldn't see their faces." I don't think she heard me, but I looked behind us cautiously as we moved into the living room. No faces. It wasn't right. It bothered me more than you can know.
The fish. How glorious those two little goldfish were. I stood there; my back hunched looking at the reflection of the blue light in the yellow scales, hunting for the faintest glow of green, created when the two colors came together at just the perfect wavelength. I must have stood there for half an hour, slack jawed, making little excited noises when one of the fish moved suddenly. This was beauty. This was real. This was everything in the universe, placed inside a plastic cage and illuminated with artificial light.
Emily finally stood up and walked to the door.
"Would you like to go downstairs?" I looked at her sideways. She didn't seem to be holding still. Her whole body seemed to me like a watercolor painting that someone had forgot to bring in out of the rain.
"Wh-what's downstairs?" I clenched my eyes shut quickly a few times to try and clear them.
"People. I want to see people." I followed her wordlessly out of the office down the hall towards the stairs. The fish tank had changed things. I was in real time now, experiencing what I was seeing as it happened. As we approached the stairs, I got a little panicky. They seemed steeper than I remembered, and they were dark and difficult to see. I watched in horror as Emily was swallowed by darkness. I felt my way along the wall, making quick, staggered breaths and seeing her disappear farther and farther away.
The floor appeared finally below my probing feet. Emily was there, looking down the hallway past the speakers and out the front door, which was open. I could hear people, people all around us. We were surrounded, this was the thick of it. Emily moved forward and my hand fell on her back instinctively. She guided me down the hall, through the dinning room where people were sitting and smoking from a bong. It was dark in there and their feet were on the table. They looked up at us when we passed but I couldn't see their faces. As we moved out of the room, I said:
"Emily, I couldn't see their faces." I don't think she heard me, but I looked behind us cautiously as we moved into the living room. No faces. It wasn't right. It bothered me more than you can know.
Yup, it happens. I recently found a poem that I wrote in high school that I vaguely recall calling my "magnum opus." Reread it for the first time in ages and had no idea what the fuck it was about.
ReplyDeleteIt was also three pages long.
Cheers to becoming better writers.
Amen to that.
ReplyDelete