Waking up

You stir in your bed, unwilling to get up for another crappy day. Why should you? Looking to the alarm, you know you have that class that you need to attend, however, the teacher is so dry and boring, and the way she goes on and on about slavery it almost seems like she wants it from a black dude.

            “Hey, get up damn it!” she demands. Shoving you upright is the shadow that is always there, hidden within the confines of your mind. This is a women who you invented in order to cry to, late at night, when nobody is there to hear, just like that of the old tree or something like that, it’s too early in the morning to think about that kind of stuff anyways…

            “I told you not to stay up! And now look, you can’t even move,” She manhandles you across the decimated dorm room that you alone occupy, your roommate living with his girlfriend in her room. Means less issues for you in the morning for the shower that you share with the kid living next door, who never seems to make it out for whatever reason.

            She shoves you into the heated shower, burning you as you bellow out of numbness. Now that you are fully aware of your surroundings, she fades, but slightly as you go about doing the same mundane routine you assume most people do.

You wash your body, thinking about that image. She is the lone image that you have clung so dearly to throughout your life, when everything else was gone, along with the years. You can’t remember how she was made, or when you started to image her everywhere you went, but as soon as you did, there she was.

            As a kid without friends to play with and family out on their own accord for reasons you have long forgotten, you would play with your toys, and she would always be there, lingering all about. Never a major player, but she was somehow involved. The older you grew, the more visible she became to the back of your mind.

            Even now, she helps you go through the daily motions of washing your hair, but never have you seen her face you realize again like every morning as you get out of the shower. You proceed to clean up, get dressed and brush your teeth as move forward in time. 

Reviews

[Fay Adora]

You have a different type of storytelling. It is as though you are speaking to the main character as well as the audience. By doing this, you've made yourself a character. As I read it I sense a relationship between you and this person you are talking about. I'm slightly confused by the first chapter but I'm sure as the story moves along it will make more sense. Is this futuristic? Your description intrigued me so I decided to visit. I feel though that this point of view narration would be very difficult to keep up.