Auto-play

A Story by raven

The song has been on auto-play for 13 days and a half. Its words carefully carving into my brain. I can feel the pain of the needle piercing through. I wake up to the sound of its words. I dream about them, and mindlessly mumble as i stare out of the window. A blank stare, lacking any special meaning, just for the purpose of keeping the eyes open.
I can hardly decipher one day from the other. The sun rises at 5:40 in the morning and sets at 7:55 in the evening. The earth keeps spinning and the suns still burns on my skin. I drink my tea hot nevertheless.

By the time the song had reached day 4, I was the one on auto-play. Before the words took over, I tried to make resistance. But that was brief and was shortly afterwards hammered down by them.
I would only go out during dawn. I like to avoid people and the chaotic movement they cause. The air during this time is fresh and moist. There are usually some stars left and if I'm lucky, I catch a glimpse of the moon. After about 30 minutes however, I go back to my apartment and the same familiar sensation creeps up on me.

My head vibrates and my ears hurt. By now, I have already forgotten what I intended in the very beginning. Why am I doing this and what is it that I want to achieve, assuming there were such reasons at first. However, I might have wanted exactly this. This fogginess and throbbing dull-ache.
I go on with my day. I floss and brush my teeth after eating, I do my laundry once a week followed by some ironing. I mop the house every two days and clean the stove after cooking lunch. I read in the afternoon and go to bed at 9:30pm. When I wake up, I give myself a once-over in the mirror, checking for any sign of wear or sudden bruise. I finish this ritual with a soft slap on the cheeks,as if to bring my feet to the ground.
Sometimes when i lie in bed at night, I feel like a thrown-away chunk of meat. I feel pathetic and I can't help the afterwards disgust. My head then start feeling heavier, the pillow too stiff. My arms two long, thick strings.
In the faint light of the moon protruding from the curtained windows, the outline of things start to waver. The pillows on the sofa diffuse, turning into a corpse. The lamp stretches elongates. It fills up in places. Then it releases a dry cough. It comes closer until it stands right beside me. It bends, and stares. I am unable to move. In the distance, I hear the sink leaking again. I hear the sound of droplets rhythmically hitting the bottom of a shallow, tin bucket. Then, I hear it. It is panting in my ear. It is lying next to me.
The rubber potted plant in the corner of my room is looking very shiny. I take good care of her. I water her every other day and I wipe her leaves clean with a damp cloth in the morning. She doesn't ever move.
The panting now has calmed. It is resting. It rarely rests. I still feel like a pathetic chunk of meat.
On the other room, the dripping continues. The bucket is half-filled now. Accompanying the sound of the water, is the song. The one that hasn't stopped playing in 15 days. To be frank, it's not even a real song. It's just a 10 second play. When in auto-play, it blends perfectly into smooth ink-like piece.
Tap, tap, tap, tap-- and then again, tap... " ♪ ♫ please don't run away... oh please don't run away... ♪ ♫ "

© 2016 raven

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Reviews

rigsbypott

I love how off-puttinging-ly creepy yet pretty it is! Your piece gives off a really interesting vibe, I really like it! :) I especially like in the first paragraph where it says "I continue to drink my hot tea nevertheless." I like how it contrasts with the rest of the paragraph. Good job!!