A short story about your childhood: Part 2
Permalink | Author: Dan Dart | Published: 2022-03-28 17:04:27 UTC | Tags: childhood story
Four years later
Your new life and house are pleasant, and your brickwork hast scarcely a scuff. However, as you look back to the time before your degree, that haunting feeling never left you. The echoes in the streets of the unknown and untold enemy have gone, but in their place lie silence, solitude and, whenever you requested it, friendliness.
As your introduction to construction this afternoon dragged on, there was one question you forgot to ask. Don’t mind it though, everyone misses things, even if they are as big as this.
Signing up to construction class was your first mistake. It might sound an innocuous enough passion, but surely, surely it couldn’t have been the cause of all this, you tell yourself.
Sweet comforts are all you have, when you’re alone on a tiny island in the middle of a lake.
What could it hurt to call for help?
What, indeed?
The rescuer... you seem to somehow recognise him on your special proprietary phone, and then it slowly dawns on you.
It’s his voice.
Comments
No comments yet...
Post a comment:
A short story about your childhood: Part 1
Permalink | Author: Dan Dart | Published: 2022-03-28 16:46:21 UTC | Tags: childhood story
You wake up, and leave your comfortable, beautifully decorated house, but there’s some kind of ill feeling in the pit of your stomach.
You begin to look around, and the instant déjà vu you experience brings tears to your eyes, which you didn’t expect.
"I remember...", you start to think. What on Earth is so strange, yet familiar about your environment, and yet you cannot put your finger on it?
You attempt to brush your feeling of uneasiness off, and you attempt to take a single step when-
Suddenly, with a flash of dirty brown, it all comes flashing back. Every time you’ve done what you’ve done before, everything thereafter you were forced to do. Every time through no fault of your own you had to start your entire routine again.
It’s him. It’s that horrid "groundhog", the one you were always forced to come face to sweating, hairy face with, and he wants the same thing he always wants, whenever you do this to yourself.
Dark, sombre tones play from nowhere and everywhere, and your memories replay a thousand times over.
"No, I don’t want to do this ever again!", you internally scream.
"This putrid charade, this utter malfeasance, this evil, evil guardian..."
You have already started to bow fearfully in order to grovel, beg and plead, just to get on with your day, as his upper half finishes rising, and shaking his sharp implement, his low, croaky voice angrily stutters:
"You again!"
Comments
No comments yet...
Post a comment: