The Way The World Revolves

Prompt: Week 2 (Prompts and Reviews Group)

I close the door behind me and trudge towards my room.

It's midnight again; why is it always midnight?

The question is forgotten as I shed my minimum-wage uniform, the scent of vacuity wafting heavily from my skin, disguised as the smell of stale popcorn. My fingers ache from cleaning the popcorn-poppers and the continual, unending mess of customers.

But this is what life is, isn't it? A continual repetition of shoddy maintenance?

I crawl beneath the tangle of sheets and bedspread that sprawls atop my mattress--I blink.

I open my eyes, but quickly close them again. I can never open my eyes underwater--it just feels wrong. Directionless, I struggle towards what could be "up", the pressure of the water attempting to empty my lungs. 

Already the burning urge to inhale is scalding my throat. If this was a normal situation, I would probably hyperventilate. As it is, I opt for just flailing wildly; in doing so, my hand brushes the murky bottom. My shoes (why am I wearing shoes?) haphazardly dig into the mud as I attempt to escape my lack of oxygen. As my feet become encumbered by the lake-floor's silty embrace, I realize--I must be dreaming.

This thought is accompanied by my lungs' sudden resignation--the stale air in my chest is released into the murky water surrounding me. The water irritates my windpipe as it is inhaled; my body immediately rejects the influx of liquid with a full body convulsion, the ejaculatory spasm of a cough. As the seizures of asphyxiation slowly become less dramatic, a thought strikes me: a floating corpse cannot pinch itself to see if its dreaming.

I sure as hell hope I'm dreaming.

My consciousness is pulled from my body in fragmented wisps; I can actually see the body sink into the silt as the part of me that can still observe bubbles towards the surface.

My body is wearing work clothes. Why the hell?

I burst from the surface of the pond with a ripple that is unnoticed and affects nothing. Aimlessly, I allow myself to drift through the stagnant air, between trees, and onto the adjacent pavement.

A city.

My city.

I waft beneath gusts of petty nonchalance, disturbed by the lack of monumental change imposed upon my surroundings. I see the tears of those whom I recognize, the stifled sobs of those close to me. Each tear, however, smells of butter and salt; each sob of stale popcorn. A single strand of emotion, of nostalgia--that was my only contribution to this world. Once that dissolves into forgetfulness, there will be nothing. 

The clouds above me darken in sympathy.

Emptiness pervades me--I allow myself to be pulled beneath the sidewalk, through the stratification of all that is pointless and inane.

I am left alone, meaningless, surrounded by the dirt of my own vacuity and the scent of burnt popcorn, of wasted life.

I still haven't woken up--what the hell is happening?

Author's Note

Written for the prompt: Write about your greatest fear.
My two greatest fears are wasting my life/accomplishing nothing and, on a more immediate level, drowning.
This story also has other themes, but they weren't part of the prompt.
Thanks for reading, guys :)

Reviews

[Poeticadia]

Oh yes! I have had nights like this after hours spent serving cotton candy (we call it candy floss here). In my case, dreams in which i'm trapped and tangled in a nasty sticky pink mesh. But your story says far more than the narrative of the dream and contemplates just how much we leave behind us in the world; it weighs up our significance:

"A single strand of emotion, of nostalgia--that was my only contribution to this world. Once that dissolves into forgetfulness, there will be nothing."

The narrative leads flawlessly into the wider comtemplation within the story and ends on a note of intrigue. Well structured and articulate.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A highly discrepant and frugal story, well defined and almost sexual in the delivery. A tormented man lies under the water of times, well done

[Ravyne Hawke]

Excellent write, Ben.. I love the whole feeling of drowning.. very descriptive and imaginative.. drowning is my preferred method of dying.. but I can understand it being a phobia to others. Wasting one's life would definitely be a great fear; however, each time you post a story or poem on WC, you have expounded upon your life :) your words are always full of meaning and wonder. Great job here!

[FJ Davis]

Ben, you will be able to avoid drowning, but you will not be able to avoid accomplishing something--in many ways, you already have.
This is another excellent piece of work. Your own true voice is beginning to emerge.

[Lily Mae]

I think you did a great job expressing your dream/fear.. Great write..x

[Alexandra Elizabeth]

I really enjoyed this piece, the language flows beautifully and its rather thought-provoking. I also found it clever (whether you meant to or not) that you continued the "why am I wearing shoes?" thing from "Orientation". Very well done.