~anarkichong

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About Me Member Mad Scientist Clell Watts23/Male/United States

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Dust
by ~anarkichong

By Any Other Name
by ~anarkichong

When Ants Go to War 2
by ~anarkichong

When Ants Go to War
by ~anarkichong

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The Emptiness

He begins to cry, not useless tears of sadness or loneliness, but something far worse that stalks our dreams and wakes us bathed in cold sweat, tears, and want. He is missing something. He is missing. He returns to the couch and picks the paper up. He writes this story.
You should get out more was what she told him.
I don’t have time to get out anymore he said.
You have plenty of time. What are you doing now for instance?
I’m relaxing.
You’re brooding
Whatever.
She walked around the apartment as if it was still her home, picking up errant pieces of paper and filing them into neat stacks on the coffee table.
You really need to listen to some better music something more upbeat.
You’re just full of suggestions aren’t you he said.
Well maybe you need someone to suggest things for you every once in a while she said, her hands on her hips. He knew what was coming. It filled his mouth with sand and made him hate her.
Look goddamn it, I don’t like that all I want to do is sit at home and listen to bands with names like Free Home Installation and Poker Night at Harry’s sing about how they just might get up the nerve to talk to you instead of sitting alone having idle fantasies about epic romance but I’m here and that’s the way it is.
How can you be so sarcastic and still cling to this shit? It’s not healthy!
Well if you don’t like where I am then maybe you shouldn’t have put me here!
It begins anew. This was the conversation that they had. The conversation that they had always had and the one they always came back to in the end. She screams, he screams, they draw blood and he passes through it unaware. The only sign that the fight is over is the slamming door and it wakes him.
He hates her because he couldn’t have her, hates her more now because she’s still around. He wants to erase her and everything that she was and watch the dust blow away in the breeze. He picks up a page meaning to put her into words, an epic book that once is written can be burned and she destroyed and forgotten.
The paper is falling.
An hour later he is sitting in the same place staring at the same page, empty and blank not unlike him. The missing words are missing in him and for his life he cannot will them to take form. He stands up and begins to pace the cavernous expanse of his apartment big enough for two, a cage for one. Anger hate pity loathing these are all useless to him now. He feels nothing and everything at once. Reborn he stalks his domain, an emissary of regret.
The paper is falling.