Topic: Short Stories
The man lay in bed. A dimmed light cast the shadow of a novel onto the wall. He could not bring himself to read anymore. He pondered.
Pondered about his girlfriend. About their anniversary. About the present he hadn't bought. What would he buy? But the stores would be closed by now. She would be there by the time he woke. He would be utterly unprepared. Maybe tonight he'd write her a romantic note.
He decided not to think about writing anymore. He turned over in his bed, glancing at his essay as he turned. Or rather, the five blank sheets of paper, save for the obscure quote about greatness on the top of page one. He had to finish, but not now. Any time but now.
The guilt became its own being. A parasite gnawing away at his soul. Forcing him to remember his anniversary, though the sheer pointlessness of worrying about something he could no longer change just made the parasite stronger.
He began to wonder if his essay could be as bad as he imagined. Maybe he could thumb through his book and get some sort of vague outline. A thesis, maybe. Just something to make him feel better about the terrifyingly empty wide lined paper adorning his desk. He would get his book.
But he stopped himself, a heartbeat away from getting out of bed. He recalled that his book would be virtually useless tonight, as it was some ten miles away, separated from the world by a combination lock, just a few steps away from his English room.
Again he felt the parasite. He could do nothing. He was an empty vessel that just happened to exist at the moment. He decided he didn't like this line of thinking. He would no longer just take up space in his bed. He would do something.
In a rather meaningless gesture, he rolled off the bed. He plunked against the floor, harder than he expected. The floor shot pain into his back, pain that ricocheted throughout the rest of his body. He was now taking up space on the floor instead.
He chuckled at this thought. The jolt had knocked him around a little, but it was enough to dislodge the parasite for a few minutes. During this brief interlude, the man talked some sense into himself, climbed back into his bed, and promptly fell asleep, leaving his cares for another day. His parasite waited on the floor, prepared for his foot the next morning.