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The Day After Next

by  Mr White

Posted: Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Word Count: 322
Summary: Its about the bad day that will soon be hanging over my neck

I felt tired today; these limbs ache and lack energy I repeated to myself. Thoughts started but then slurred like far off voices, whilst barely visible black dots became patches, became a darkness that dominated my vision and finally dulled my head.

At this moment, as per usual, I was supposed to see my life flash by my eyes; minute by minute, still shots of memory came with burning intensity that melted like old black and white camera film and spattered into my brain. Pulling out the negatives I watched reel upon reel of
footage that jerked from frame to frame displaying pictures of aging buildings and streets, where exhaust fumes marked windows and stained faded brickwork. There were noises like children crying and the screeching of worn brakes, the rattle of old machines, winding creaking sounds regularly spaced as if someone here were turning the handle of a rusted old mangle. Looking around there were no signs of life, just a slightly pretentious parody of the day that I was about to receive.

Although sulfur and ash from long dead fires clogged the airways and stained the skin, my mind was numb and seemingly void of all that could even want to care. Drifting through memories that I barely recognized
and had no desire to recollect, I came across that piece of me that cared, that teardrop that fell upon the mass graves; that fell upon the abandoned intents.

Everywhere I looked this bead of frost confronted me, I shied away, turned my back and covered my eyes, shaking, scraping this thing from my dry and cracked face. Re-hydrating ducts, glands and dried out waterways,
hour by hour this process began awakening limbs and organs that had never wanted to feel this pain again. Over the days I began clutching my head and hoping it would finally explode.

It had begun and I was now fit to beg for heaven's help.