rubatosis
the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat
imagine; you're lying on your back on warm concrete. there's a sound like a clock but it's too far away to hear. you can see the sun right above you through squinted eyes. it's warming the ground. the ticking feels closer. it's not coming from a particular direction, yet it feels closer. you don't have to look at the sun with lidded eyes any more, you can open them wide. the concrete is hot, but you don't mind. it is comforting. the ground seems to throb with the ticking of the clock. the grass nearby starts to wither and smoke in the heat. your eyes reflect the sun's rays. the ticking is driving you crazy, isn't it? it's not even regular. there's some sort of smoke at the edges of your vision. the sun feels closer, just like the clock, and you sort of wonder if it's the sun itself making the noise. every tick brings the sun closer. the smoke fills up the rest of the sky. you're breathing in smoke and it feels like liquid fire trickling through your body. you stand and reach out, and the sun is closer than you thought. you can almost touch it. maybe if you do you can stop the ticking, which is in your ears like a snare. you're so, so thirsty. you jump, and touch the sun. when you bring your fingers down the tips are black and charred, but it felt like dipping your hand in a warm bath. you desperately reach up and grasp it with both hands. you bring it to your mouth. you drink. it tastes like nectar and burning tires. the ticking sounds like a rim shot in your chest and you can't possibly think about anything else. however with every drop of the sun you drink, it slows. you drink like a dying man. you absentmindedly notice the darkness. with only a quarter of the sun left most of the world is in shadow. you also realise that the sound is coming from within you. you consume the last drop of the sun, and the world goes black. but it was worth it, for the ticking has blissfully stopped. nothing matters any more because it stopped. the ticking was your heartbeat, and you drank the sun, and. it. stopped.
YOU ARE READING
short stories by snowman
القصة القصيرةit feels so familiar, like someone you loved and whose face you have forgotten. somewhere in your body, somewhere that doesn't exist starts to ache. it aches for the singing of the stars. you just want to go home, don't you? if only you knew where t...
