UM(1) Creative Writing Club (Activity)

Nay Htet

His day started at 12. It was not quite day though — not quite. Everywhere was quiet. Yet, the entire surrounding seemed to pulsate with a sort of joy that sometimes felt like an anticipation for something that does not exist and never will.

It was a time when time was all but time, raw and skinned to the very bone and flesh, when seconds did not seem to 'happen' but be exposed, one by one, coming out like an endless stream of trucks from the backstage of his consciousness.

He was very conscious of it all— of the seconds that carried him from his half-draped bed to the cold sink, to the to the square coffee table by the window that framed a night pulsating with its familiar habitants. He himself was a habitant of this dark and glorious magnificence, and sometimes considered himself to be a proud cousin of the stars, those endless beings that accompanied him on his lonely walk to his lonely office.

He pushed gingerly against the heavy door of his office room and a familiar resistance greeted him. The door opened, quite unwillingly, letting out a swirling gust of cold air, like a great black smoking mouth.

He slopped down, cracked his laptop open, and a blue blinding light flooded the room. Like fireflies attracted to the glow of the screen, his fingers waltzed across the keyboard, skipping gracefully, and landing soft and noiseless like airy birds that descend on the smooth face of a pond. They danced and danced and danced and danced until the very boundary that divided the man and the keys blurred away in the blue light, and there were no longer stars, no light, no person, no thing, no sound, no walls, no window, no car, no streetlamp, no sunrise, no sky, and no birds, but an existence where all was one.