The pitter patter of the rain was amplified by the metal in the roof, too loud for talking, but quiet enough to think. For the first time, I notice the drabness of my room. The mildew walls, concrete floors, the bite present in the air. Each and every detail was duplicated over and over in every room in this identical buiding, cloned done each street.
My window had been foggy all morning but the droplets managed to appear threw the condensation. In the corner was a bookshelf filled with half-assed poetry and fiction novels only the long dead have seen.
I own not a TV, nor an assault rifle. Not a speck of cocaine or heroine among my stuff. Yet, i had an abundance of alcohol.Tequila, vodka, vermouth, absinthe, I could not go a single day without a pickmeup in my coffee. Made the poetry better.
Honestly, i drank. I drank everyday, every hour, everywhere ,but I'm not an alcoholic. There are no alcoholics anymore. I only use it to numb the pain of my knowledge.
I guess I was overdramatic, before; I don't care much for the rain. The rain is good. It was kind of white noise or the conversation of people you don't give two-shits about. I was angry at the rain for something the droplets could not control. I was not angry at them but i must have been compensating for something else. For some bizarre reason, i can't remember what.
I sat up, head rushing, dizziness came over my whole body. My room spinning, turning colors of the pink and yellow spectrum like my brain was short circuiting
at high speed. Numbers, and digits, and words produced randomly in my head. Numbers,and digits, and words, numbers, digits, words, numbers digits words numbersdigitswords numbersdigitswords-
Nothing
It all stopped
No sound except for the constant of the rain. The never ending pitter patter soothed my conscience into peaceful gazing yet again. Laying down upon my bed, my grey, plain bed, staring up at the white and dull ceiling. My brain the only safe place for my colorful thoughts.
My eyes fluttered, growing heavy as darkness fell across the room. Time buzzed by quicker when one is tired. Sadly, my dreams were nothing but blank nightmares.
I dreamt of the sky and the moon and the stars and the rain. I dreamt of a gown navy draped across the night sky with glitter for lavish stars. No moon in sight and i in the meadow under the stars. Then the rain came.
That was not what made the nightmare. The rain is not awful. No this was something more.
Something alive.
YOU ARE READING
Desolation Reigns
Science FictionThe fate of the free world is in the hands of an introverted alcoholic. Her addiction goes far beyond the amnesia that all of her city's citizens have and all the while, the rain never ends.Our pain is never ending. Oh dear god, PLEASE help us!The g...
