A child sits on their chair and writes. They wish to escape an inescapable world... They yearn to feel at home in their own house. But they do not. No, they simply sit and write and attempt their escape. To no avail of course.... So instead they resort to sleep. Laying in the bed of their dark room they listen to a familiar sound. It seems to remind them of a thousand feet, all running at once, but muffled. They loved that sound alone but with the faint sound of the whistle it completed the entire piece. " Hello train. " they called out from their bed. " I have tried to run away again but have failed. Does this mean it really all is imaginary? My mind, my palace, my stories? You...? Oh I hope not you. Not you, above all not you dear train. " They touched their eyes to feel the familiar sensation of tears. " Sad tears... It's what I pretend she called them... She never called them anything really... No, she never said anything in general... She... She wasn't imaginary... Was she? " The child's fears weren't reassured, they never were there... Then again they never were anywhere... " Scared child... Such a classic... Such a young person in a fragile body.... " they flipped over. " With such a fragile mind.... What ever will one do... " They smiled a little. It was a weird feeling, almost surreal... They felt their mouth, all the muscles that made it up... So incredible that they controlled this incredibly complex machine... " Yes... I have made up my mind. She was real. And she, at some point, was happy. Even if for just a moment... " They closed their eyes and imagined the beautiful face of their sister. Her smile was something of a word the child couldn't describe... There, and intelligent, and joyful... THAT was their sister. Not the stranger they had come to find buried in the ground. " Sleep will do me good... Sleep will help me escape... " And they closed their eyes...
YOU ARE READING
The Author's Stories
Short StoryThis is a collection of short stories I've written that I decided I wanted to share. Most of these are angst. They aren't connected, I wrote almost all of them individually except the Stage stories.