Waking up to the sound of my alarm, it was a day like any other. The sun shone softly through my thin white curtains and I could hear the buzz of the cicadas, already starting their song early on this warm summer morning. Hopping from my bed, I got up to do my normal routine. I was a morning person and loved a fresh shower early followed by sitting on my back porch overlooking the small pond filled with koi fish as the sun slowly warmed me. Yes, today was like any other, at least that's what I thought.
My dream was to become a singer, but somewhere around my 20th birthday my voice suddenly became hard to use at louder volumes. That was three years ago. My health has never really been the best, I would get sick easily as a child and I assumed it was just yet another weakness my body had developed. With no money for insurance, I was never able to go to the doctor and find out just what was wrong with my body. With my luck, it was probably something stupidly expensive, so I was kind of glad I never went. For now, I have settled for being a song writer. I'm not really famous or anything, but the local smaller agencies know my name and often commission me to write songs for their fledgling artists. It's not glamorous or prosperous, but it pays the basic bills.
By noon it had became too hot to write outside, so I headed back in to continue at my desk. Stopping dead in my tracks, completely frozen, there was a man standing in my bedroom looking about like he wasn't intruding or out of place at all.
'What do I do? Do I run? Do I ask him what he's doing here?'
The strange man hadn't noticed me enter as he stood there with his back turned, mumbling something to himself about this 'supposedly being the right location'. My grip loosened on the papers I was holding, and they came fluttering down with a crinkling sound. The man turned to examine the source of the disturbance.
"Ah, there's the mark.", he said as he came walking up to me. I was too scared to move as he sauntered closer, inspecting me as if I was an object. "Yep, this is definitely her.", he said, nodding his head. He turned to walk away and then plopped down on my bed, laying back with his arms crossed behind his head and an ankle resting on his bent-up knee.
"Uuu...ummmm... excuse me?", I said softly.
He did not move or even acknowledge me. "Excuse me.", I said a little louder, hoping he heard me this time, but still he didn't even flinch. Getting mad now, I walked closer and cleared my throat.
"Why are you on my bed!?", I said, arms folded with a scowl on my face.
This time I got his attention. He looked around the bed, as if I was talking to someone else and then finally looked up at me.
"Yes... YOU.", I said, pointing at him.
"Me??", he said, seeming very confused as he pointed to himself.
"YES, damnit! What you are doing in my house and WHY are you on my bed??"
Sitting up slowly, he leaned forward on the edge of the bed. He waved his hand back and forth in front of me as if he were testing a blind person's vision. Slapping his hand down, I yelled my questions at him again.
"Well... this is interesting.", he mumbled with his hand on his chin.
"Interesting? No. This is a home invasion, you psycho. Get out before I call the police!"
"Now... is that any way to speak to a God?", he grumbled, standing up to get in my face. "Besides, they wouldn't be able to see me. They'd just think you were nuts."
I tried to back up, but he grabbed my wrist, holding me in place as his cold eyes looked me over. What was he even talking about? Me being nuts?? He's the one who's clearly crazy here!
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Chase Your Dreams
قصص الهواةWhen you are told you only have one year to live when visited by a messenger of death, what will you do? Sit around patiently doing exactly as you are told, or break free to chase your dream? The decision is easy, but what will you do about the eyes...
