Ceiling World

    "Wake up."

    "No."

    "Get up!"

    "No."

    Eyes shut. Breathing slowed. Miles clenches both fists as they remain close to his person while he lies in bed. A cool air fills the room as Miles shivers from the low temperature. "I'm not ready," he murmurs. A deep, intense voice yells from his right side, "I did not ask, boy!" With the feeling of despair, Miles holds back tears but for no apparent reason. He opens his eyes and stares deeply into the ceiling above him. Small, white lumps on a sideways wall, as a miniature world filled with hills and invisible people. "Am I still dreaming," he asks himself, "did I ever stop?" The room is filled with a grayish, blue haze from the light coming through his windows. "Rain," he whispers. Once upon a time, Miles Haiden was in love with the rain. Feeling the cool, refreshing drops of rain on his face as he looked up to the sky. But that was a long time ago. What changed? Not even he knew. All he did know was that he felt broken when it rained, maybe a tragedy? Possibly a past memory? He knew, yet he didn't. Deep inside he knew what it was that haunted him so, but stuck at a fork in the road he didn't know what to think next.

    "Awake! You are not deaf, follow my orders."

    He remembers the loud voice who called out to him previously. He looks to his side towards the direction of the previous words. Nothing. He thought someone was standing there, calling for his attention. Yet there was no one there. He sits up. Looking around, confused, he rubs his own head feeling a minor pain. There's no bump, no indentations, he didn't bump his head. So why was he in pain? He smacks his lips noticing his mouth is dry. Looking over at his nightstand, he grabs the water bottle that he doesn't remember placing. Slowly twisting the cap counterclockwise with anticipation as he knew he could take a sip of water. As he removes the almost transparent bottle cap, he places the rim of the bottle on the edge of his bottom lip. The bottle was empty. How had he not noticed an empty bottle before attempting to drink from it? His heart begins beating faster, he hears his own heart beating, but why? He wasn't excited, or afraid, but empty. Hesitantly, he begins trying to get out of bed. With clear knowledge of how to do so, he fails. He falls. He falls onto the ugly, brown, carpet of his room. Confused as to what happened, he knows he must get back up. But how? There was no motivation present. For Miles had a clear view that he needed to get up but something inside him refused. He felt glued to the ground, as if there were a thousand elephants sitting on top of him. But how could there be a thousand elephants on him? He was well aware that if that was the case he would've been dead. He felt his breaths, and still his racing heart, he was still alive.

    "You fool. Get up!"

    Who was speaking? This voice was so clear, he heard it- no, he felt it. The voice was vaguely familiar, as if it was one he knew that was layered with artificial filters. Having been barely awake, Miles realized now what it was that was happening. This voice wasn't anyone, at least not anyone else. It was him. He was hearing his own voice... in his own head. Why? Had he finally lost his mind? It was at this moment his eyes were opened to himself, he remembered. He remembered everything. He remembered why he didn't like the rain, it reminded him of the car accident that took the life of his very own mother. He remembered why the water bottle was empty, it had been there for weeks. In fact, he remembered that he had been doing this daily routine for weeks. No- he had been doing this daily routine for the last ten years. Feeling nothing but loss and sadness, he remembered that his life was meaningless, or at least that's how he felt. But then he remembered why he forgot. He never wanted to remember. Because every night for the last ten years, Miles had wished to wake up one morning, able to leave behind his entire past. And he got his wish each and every time. Little did he know that his wishes did nothing but make him feel worse, feeling nothing every morning, increasing the coming impact of his past coming back to punch him in the face. But now he remembered why he saw a world in the ceiling...

    He knew that the small people in the ceiling had a better life than him... because they never existed.