Realization of Fear

Realization of Fear

 

            Craig Edwards sat on his folding chair on the patio of his recently ruined frat house. The party last night had been a full on rager and he was feeling the effects of a brutal hangover. Heat and sunlight from an already blazing New Orleans summer were not helping matters either. The only reason he was outside right now was because the cable had gone out and most of the time in this city was way more interesting than anything on cable anyway.  And since he and his frat brothers were poor college kids, the tv gave off that static black and white glow and white noise. Craig had grown accustomed to that growing up and it actually served to soothe him today. He felt like a zombie and he could relate to the behavior right now. All the symptoms were there… blank stare, mouth slightly agape, low guttural moan whenever asked a question or engaged in the slightest hint of conversation, equilibrium off kilter causing a walk resembling that of someone in rare form on Bourbon Street. His brothers were all still passed out or attempting a wake up while simultaneously drifting in and out of consciousness. Matt Gambling seemed particulary odd this afternoon considering he was staring at the static. Craig debunked the oddness due to the large amount of pot Matt had smoked for his daily wake and bake. Potheads amused him but in this case, he would take anything to get rid of the pain. He got up to take a walk to Rite Aid but before he could get far something else struck him as seriously odd. The Quiet…

            It was a beautiful fall day in New Orleans but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Clear sky, sun shining, perfect temperature of 68, and a nice breeze made for some beautiful outside adventure weather, but the bears of Nola seemed to be hibernating today. Even if it was Sunday and typically a day where 90 percent of this area were still sleeping off hangovers, he had a really bad feeling that something was up. And it wasn’t the economy or the stock market. In a city where loud brass bands and funky jazz overpopulated the air and invaded eardrums, this silence was deafening and way to eery for him to bare. He decided to walk anyway and that’s when he saw what made this day even stranger. If that was even possible at this point…

            A Buddhist monk…

            Standing in the middle of the street…

            Staring right back at him…

Craig had a feeling s**t was about to get real and just then it happened.

            The static on the old school television switched off and a warning message sounding something like the emergency broadcast system he normally heard on the radio began to play…

            “Goddamn I’m hungry.”

            Maybe the monk wants lunch…