Why is a Raven Like a Writing Desk?

At the End of the World (AlanScratch)

As far as the end of the world was concerned, this was not how Alan thought it would go, not that he understood it was the end of the world.

The chirping of birds is what made him sit up and open his eyes. He yawned and looked around the room of the cabin. It was a rather plain room, really. There were things in it, sure, but it hardly felt like his own room. 

Not like that mattered. It was his room now. After all, it's not like he remembered what his actual bedroom looked like. Though, he supposed this was his actual bedroom now.

Alan got out of bed and stretched, briefly glancing out the window of the room. The outside was not bright, but it was certainly not dreary out. There was a mild overcast that dimmed down the sun’s natural light, making the rays a bit more bearable. No wonder he felt better rested. The sunlight hadn't had the chance to wake him up.

Alan walked out of the room and made his way down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen to make himself some coffee. Making his way towards the counter to grab the bag, the floorboards creaked beneath his feet. He was honestly amazed this old cabin was still here; it had been built in the… 

Alan furrowed his brow, trying to think of how long the Diver’s Isle had been here. He was sure he knew. He recalled him coming here on vacation with someone and talking to someone about the cabin. 

Alan thought about it a few seconds more before giving up. It didn't matter. All that mattered was he got some coffee in his system. Making coffee was sort of his own little ritual that he could do on autopilot. He'd been doing it for god knows how long. Surely ever since he'd first started writing. So many long, sleepless nights of work, followed by busy days of more work. He wasn't sure how he'd ever get on like that without coffee.

Briefly, he stood there, eyes closed as he took a deep breath. It felt strange, feeling so calm. He can't recall the last time he felt so calm in his life. These past 13 or so years had been a haze, and not a pleasant one. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful to be so far out of it to not remember or be somewhat perturbed that he couldn't seem to recall much of anything. 

It didn't matter, of course, at least, not to him. His coffee was now finished. 

Alan grabbed a mug, stared at it in his hand for a moment, and then proceeded to put it back before reaching for the more familiar sight of an Oh Deer Diner thermos. He unscrewed the lid, grabbed the coffee pot, and then proceeded to dump the whole thing in there before walking towards the door, thermos in hand, and then heading outside. 

The creaking of the outdoor patio and dock was so much worse than the inside of the house, but Alan didn't care. He'd grown accustomed to it and, in fact, the sound was a comfort, like sitting next to the crackling flames of a fire.

Alan made his way towards the edge of the dock and took a seat in the chair that had been placed there, and then poured himself a bit of coffee. Taking his first sip, he stared out at the lake. 

In spite of the cloudy weather, everything was currently calm. In fact, it was actually rather pleasant. It would actually be pretty ideal boating weather. No rain or too much wind, and no intense sunshine to make him feel like his skin was burning.

A pair of birds swooped down, flying low over the water. Alan couldn't make out what sort of bird it was… But he got an itching sense of familiarity.

It was funny… How familiar everything felt. Sometimes he'd see something and get an itching familiar feeling in the back of his skull like it was something important he'd long since forgotten. Sometimes his brain would send off random thoughts of danger, but there was none to be had.