I just wrote this in about half an hour, and im planning to go further with it, but i feel like posting it now just to see what people think of it. its the first one ive posted, it kinda sucks. The Opening of a Mind The boy sat there in his chair, at his desk in a room at 3 o’ clock in the godforsaken morning. There was no particular reason at all that the boy was up this late, listening to the crickets buzz outside his window and the rats feast on a bin of grain in the garage. At least that is what the boy told himself, as he sat there. He was thinking to himself about his purpose in life, and the world in general. The purpose of his life was not clear to him, and he guessed that it never would be clear. As he sat there drinking his fourth cup of caffeine that hour, he wondered idly what the world was like, for other people besides himself. It had occurred to him that since you know yourself better than anybody else, your opinion of yourself is different that anyone else’s. He thought about what it would be like to be able to intercept people’s thoughts of him and other people, and about how many people were thinking of him at that moment. Suddenly, it occurred to the boy the reason why he was up at 3 a.m., sitting in his chair. He was supposed to be doing something, which happened to be his summer reading for the upcoming school year. The school year started in exactly a week, and he had barely started the huge book assigned to him. He then realized that what he was doing was not doing something, and all that implies, and he wondered if that was possible. Because you are always doing something, even if what you are doing is not doing something. It then struck him that you are always doing something, even if you are doing nothing at all. Jumping on his train of thought, he instantly began to see everything differently. A quarter and AA battery on his desk had appeared previously to just sit there and do nothing, but now they were doing something, by not doing anything. His mind began to warp itself around this concept, and the quarter and the battery and everything in his sight that had ever existed suddenly appeared to be doing something. He was astonished to see everything suddenly shift focus, and his senses were overloaded with the multitude of previously inanimate objects acting on their own will, because to him, it seemed they could. His mind was going full throttle, and he could barely grasp what was going on around him. The quarter that had been sitting on the desk for the past few weeks suddenly had gotten up and was rolling around in circles, and things like quarters that weren’t supposed to move started moving; his socks were forming a congo line on his dresser, his little brother’s remote control car was giving rides to his cd cases, and the books were attempting to fly by flapping their pages. But no, the train of thought was not out of coal, and was speeding down the tracks. If inanimate objects could do things, why couldn’t colors and liquid do things? Colors began to melt off the objects in the room, swirling together to form a brilliant kaleidoscope of excellence. The kaleidoscope of excellence moved around the room, running into the books which had succeeded in their attempt at flying. The liquid blobs that had resided in his lava lamp were rolling around the air, like a spilled drink in zero gravity. His mind was reeling from these new sights, and it was opening like a jar, letting in the senses of…..everything that was happening around him. It was like some insane circus that had come into town, and breathed life into all that he saw. In the midst of it all, he remembered an earlier thought of his, which was that people think differently of someone than they think of themselves. He wondered if the objects and colors and liquid could think, and if they had opinions about things like humans. With the train of though going so fast that it was in danger of going off the tracks, he tapped into the thought processes of the objects. However, instead of having thoughts in a language like humans, their thoughts were an indescribable mix of emotions and memories. At this point his mind had had enough, and was beginning to slow down. The brilliant kaleidoscope of excellence that had been flying through the air fell to the floor, making a puddle of smeared excellence. The lava blobs too fell to the floor with the books, encasing them in their lavaness. The inanimate objects also began to slow, and were trying to make it make to their previous positions before time and movement stopped for them. The last thing the boy saw before everything stopped was the battery attempting to apply his deodorant to itself, even though it lacks armpits. The sight was so out of place and in a strange way, hysterical, that the boy began to laugh like a maniac. He was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face, and he was pounding on his desk with his fist. He fell to the floor along with the battery and everything else, and lay there, silently laughing. He realized that the other objects were laughing, but it was a good kind of laughter, joining in with his. The boy stayed there, laughing on the floor with the inanimates, for he found that he now could not move, like the objects laying on the floor beside him. The only thing left moving in the room was the lone quarter, spinning on the desk. After a minute or so it made a spiral of death and clattered to the beige desktop of eternity.
A bit mad, but mad = good, and we all like good dont we. Very whats the word... creative!! Different, Weird, Fab!!!! WELL DONE
