Meditation VII

Maybe it was a prank the kids played on me. Maybe it was something they thought about when they woke up, and waited for the sounds of me. Something they giggled about once they crawled back into their beds. Or maybe my wife did.

However it happened, whatever reasoning, I've woken up, and I can't open my eyelids. I touch them and feel them moving as I look back and forth in the dark room, the slight bump of whatever is keeping them down. Whatever it is, it's stronger than my muscles, and I rise our of bed without really noticing. I sleep like a nocturnal beast, and so no light enters my room until I open the blinds or turn on light. I only knew once I did this, and everything turned red.

Meditation VI

“That's Mr Simmons. He owns the whole town.”

“If he owns the town, why haven't I seen him before?”

Meditation V

A man rode down the road towards his destination, a destitute town, against the grain of workers leaving. Whether on wagons or by foot, they never stopped, and as the man reached the outer limits and climbed down, the ranks of people still continued as far as he could see. With their destination so close, it wasn't hard to justify living where you had grown up. But still some carried empty jugs or dull tools, and our man walked by converted houses and coveted amenities.