Blind and insightful (in progress)

He sat in the corner of his only room; mopeing about his recently shattered vase. He had kept his fish in it. The wind had gotten into the house, such a mischeviuos creature, and caught ,by a slight draft, the dyeing petals of a single white rose, that rested in the stale water of that very same vase, and knocked it over. The fish of whom loved Cheez- its, sank into the floor and absorbed into nothingess as they drowned in the warm pleasant air.

He continued with his daily-nightly routines after his periodical mourning and went about them now as if nothing had happened. Firstly, he said goodnight to the moon; who in this stage of depression was too arrogant to respond. Secondly, he brushed his teeth and antagonized his modestly shy reflection in his modest bathroom mirror. The he went to turn off his lamp. while doing so it began to fall off the ground. This si when he noticed that the switch to turn it off wasn't working. He figured he could solve this mind-boggling riddle by removing and observing the lightbulb. Just as he had suspected. It was broken. Once eh had unscrewed it and held it in his hand he could clearly see that it wouldn't turn off. In his dark creepy house the bulb sent off an almost unnatural eluminating light. It made his light up like a rotting Jack-o-lantern. Then it exploded.

The little shards of glassstuck into his eyeballs and began to secrete small streams of blood from the minuscle bases of his unbearable pain. It ran down his face and made his cheeks a light darkish red. He could no longer see but the gloom of his small house seemed a bit brighter. With this small spurt of joy he decided he would go to sleep and dream of sugar plumbs and fairies; and all of those other wonderful things of childish happiness. He dozed off with a slight smile on his face, eager to see what tomorrow would bring him.

When he arose in the early morning he continued about doing his daily tasks. Although he had lost his eyesight he still had a fond memory of where everything was, to precise pictureque detail. with this his mind and imagination formed a picture of what everything around him looked like. it was as though he could still see. But, everything was more vibrant and beutiful than it ever was when he had had his eyesight. His world had drastically changed and for once in his miserable life he could honestly say that he was happy.

He worked his way to the staircase just outside his apartment door. It's muggy appearance and dark corners had now been draped by a beautiful blanket of warmth and happiness. The street was full of amazing sounds and smells and the usually dirty street corner, accompanied by a herd of homeless nightcrawlers was now as attractive as the taj mahal on a sunday afternoon with handsome company and intellectual converse; as he admired it from a vacant place in the corner of his mind. He approached a coffee shop he frequented on tiresome work days and the strong scent of the fresh coffee beans being roasted danced on the small tetricles on the inside of his nose and made the little green gremlins that occupied them dance around and scatter on the next sweeping swirl of air. The inside of his stomache churned and he so strongly yurned for a sweet cup of mochoa with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles with the slightest dash of cinnamon and a shot of hazelenut. Hazlenut, a taste he asscoiated with christmas at the cabin in the woods with father and mother before they passed away his only known family. Yet the taste of hazlenut still brought upon him fond memories of times when he was happpier. And this was something he wanted to rediscover in his new discovered eutopia.

Ofcourse he couldn't restrict himself from purchasing one and he enjoyed it now as he strolled along down the road to his new destiney. He smiled now and licked the whipped cream moustache off of his upper lip. ...

Linda   Linda wrote
on 9/12/2009 3:33:34 AM
Spelling and grammar have nothing to do with being a good writer. Everything jo writes is raw and intricate

shesbatty   shesbatty wrote
on 5/1/2008 11:29:21 PM
Because you wrote that it's "in progress" i'm not going to get at you about it, but check your spelling! otherwise i loved it. i especially liked the last paragraph, its just so simple, explaining that he's licking himself clean, that it has hidden symbolism to it, i don't know if u did that on purpose, but it works. i really liked how the idea of a new start was shown by a man just continuing with his daily routine but thinking of how life can be different. go jo.

Short Story
Science Fiction
writing JMN
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it's still in progress tell me what u think