Gripping the Mist

~ For the Replica Competition.


4. I Think that the Loneliness Suits Me.

 "You're up early," I heard my fathers voice speak. Peering my head up through my cocoon of blankets, I fixed him in my glare.

 "Who's to say I slept?" I spoke with a smile that I knew he couldn't see. But never the less, he smiled back with a shake of his head and wandered over to the direction of the kitchen.

 "I thought you'd be gone already at a friends or something." His voice echoed down the hall from the next room.

 "Hah!" I laughed. "Why would I go and do something like that? I've got all I need right here!" I stretched my arms out to present the room to myself. The table was littered with half drinkin cups of coffee, chips bags and of course empty ice cream containers. On the television screen was a recording of a crackling fireplace that had been playing for the last few hours while I had sat in my bundle of blankets, stationary in that awkward space between sleep and a living day dream. Apparently that was all I needed. 

 My father soon emerged with two cups of coffee in his hands. When he placed one of them down on the table in front of me, my wide, bloodshot eyes darted towards him in shock.

 "No, no..." I urged him as I pushed the mug away from me cautiously. "At this point, I'm concerned that my body couldn't withstand another drop of caffeine." I watched his eyes take in all the empty cups scattered on the table and nodded.

 "Fine, I'll save it for your mother... Ah, there she is," He said as he turned to see her. I did the same. She stepped down the last stair in her night gown with a big yawn. When she recovered, her gray eyes flashed at us and they settled on my father. I always found myself wondering how I had ended up with the eyes I had now. My parents had such different eyes, and mine being even more so. 

 Without asking, my mother took the cup of coffee from my dad and trudged off down the hall, obviously to the kitchen as well. I heard pots and pans clank, probably making breakfast.

 "Umm, mum. Watcha making?" I asked hopefully.

 "Oatmeal. You're welcome to a bowl." I made a sarcastic gagging motion at my dad who laughed.

 "Oh, no thanks!" I called back nicely. "I have plans to go stand out in the rain. But thanks for the offer."

 Actually, standing out in the down pour didn't sound like much of a bad idea. I loved the rain so much. I got up clumsily to my feet, one foot getting caught in one of the many blankets. I stumbled out of the room and ran up the stairs. No, I wasn't actually going to stand out in the rain. I didn't like it that much. Plus, I wasn't stupid. Instead, I knew the perfect way to take in the storms beauty without having to endure the freezing rain against my skin. My window sill was that place. I could lean out of it as far as I wanted to, the little roof built above it protected me from the elements from above so I could admire the scene of our front yard from an elevated view.

 I enjoyed watching the storm. It was entertainment that could never get old. My eyes could admire the darkness in the middle of the day, the misty wall of clouds masking the heavens. All while my ears listened to the thousands of rain drops landing around me. It was most thrilling when the thunder roared, and I could feel it rumble the ground beneath me. I could smell the scent of rain water against the pavement, and could even stick out my tongue and taste the cold, moist air. I couldn't think of anywhere better to be.

 When I closed my eyes, and let my other senses take over for the absent one, I felt like my sight traveled somewhere else. As if my soul was departing from my body. I felt it travel away, away to somewhere that contained everything I desired. Peace and silence. The place was sacred to me, a place too perfect to exist in this cruel world. I felt home.

 But a feeling of dread ripped through my day dream almost just after it began. When my eyes opened, I was disappointed to find myself still sitting in my room. I turned quickly to see my mother standing in my door way, a bowl containing a steaming substance that I knew was oatmeal.

 I wanted to sigh. The sight disappointed me. I realized how much I hated company. How much I just wanted to be left alone, to be with my thoughts. Oh, the wondrous things they could do! But all it asked for was the quiet, so its voices could scream in the silence. I forced a smile at my mother as she placed the bowl down on my dresser and left, not latching my door shut, which really annoyed me. But I didn't get up to shut it all the way myself. Instead I just turned and looked back out at the miserable day that filled me with joy. Perhaps the loneliness suited me. I smiled to myself as I leaned against the sill and stared up at the clouds. Yes, that sounded right. 


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