Status: Slowly but surely getting written.
Fear of a Blank Planet
Chapter 1
There's a flickering light amongst all the darkness I see. It's getting brighter and brighter. Oh god, I'm dead, aren't I?
And then I hear my mum's screeching voice. "Steven!"
Nope, not dead yet. Fuck my life.
I crack open my eyelids my flickering light turning out to be the television I left on last night in my attempt to stay up all night. Except I fucked up and took muscle relaxers instead of the Ritalin pills my friend's sister has been "missing". Maybe I mixed the bottles during the night. My window shines rays of orange and my body is warmed by the sunlight coming through the haze of my room. It's a foreign sensation.
Again, her voice screeches from downstairs like a bat out of hell. "Steven, wake up! You're going to be late again!"
I turn my body towards the wall, drowning her out with the numbers being recited in my head as I count the plaster dots protruding from my wall. As soon as I reach seventy seven, I hear her footsteps on the staircase. Fuck, here we go again.
I hear her bang once then jiggle the doorknob before she starts screaming again. "You're going to be late for school! Can you please just behave for once?"
Groaning, I clutch at my head and start counting faster, my eyes darting each and every way, as if I were going insane. I have to escape the noise one way or another.
Escape.
I pull myself up from my crumpled comforter and limp over to my desk, flipping on my speakers. I take my iPod in hand and search through the artists, looking for something to drown my mother out. And then I find it. Meshuggah. Perfect.
Turning it up as loudly as I can, I return to my mattress, landing on it with a soft thud and turn back to my wall, finding I've lost count but continue my mindless task anyway.
More banging on the door. Amongst all the noise, I hear her shrieks again. “Steven!” I know how she is, she won’t keep this up for much longer. Before long, her yelling behind the door disappears. Yes! I’ve won this round, mum. All I’m left with is the hypnotising sound of Jens Kidman’s screams resonating through the room.
Until I hear the scratch of the key in the doorknob. Shit, I must’ve forgotten to take it with me last night.
The next second she barges in, wading through the clothes strewn across the floor. Another second and she’s standing next to my bed, repeating my name like a parrot without a brain. Another second and she’s shaking my shoulder, attempting to wake me from my supposed slumber. I don’t bulge from her frantic shaking, hoping for her to just sigh that exasperated sigh and leave me be like she always does.
But today’s different. She walks over to my desk and slaps the speakers off. A deafening silence encases the room. That is, until she speaks again.
“Steven, please,” she starts begging. How pathetic can you get? “Could you please just get up? I’m tired of having to do this every single day with you.”
Just give it up.
She attempts to place her hand on my shoulder again, but I curl up against the wall, my face meeting my knees where I start to count the cross stitches in my jeans. Her hand meets my shoulder and I try to still my body, even to the point of where my breathing almost…stops. Get your hands off me.
Just give it up.
Finally the space on my shoulder is vacated again. “Fine.” The curtness of her voice was like a knife, but it was much too dull for the likes of me. “Fine.” Repeating herself like the goddamn parrot she is. “If you don’t want to get up, your loss. See if I care. You’re the one missing school.” I won’t miss it at all, thank you very much.
I hear her hands slap down against her sides, frustrated, and she finally sighs that exasperated sigh. Just like always. She makes an about face and mumbles something to herself. Probably the usual, “What happened to the son I used to know?” Or more appropriately, “Why is my son such a fuck up?” Love you too, mum.
The door slams shut and once again I am met with silence. I hear the soft thuds of her footsteps traveling down, and getting softer as she reaches the ground floor. More silence. And then finally the front door slams shut. A few more minutes, and the car’s engine comes to life as she pulls out of the driveway. But a smile appears on my face. No school. I have the house to myself once again.
Fuck yes.
And then I hear my mum's screeching voice. "Steven!"
Nope, not dead yet. Fuck my life.
I crack open my eyelids my flickering light turning out to be the television I left on last night in my attempt to stay up all night. Except I fucked up and took muscle relaxers instead of the Ritalin pills my friend's sister has been "missing". Maybe I mixed the bottles during the night. My window shines rays of orange and my body is warmed by the sunlight coming through the haze of my room. It's a foreign sensation.
Again, her voice screeches from downstairs like a bat out of hell. "Steven, wake up! You're going to be late again!"
I turn my body towards the wall, drowning her out with the numbers being recited in my head as I count the plaster dots protruding from my wall. As soon as I reach seventy seven, I hear her footsteps on the staircase. Fuck, here we go again.
I hear her bang once then jiggle the doorknob before she starts screaming again. "You're going to be late for school! Can you please just behave for once?"
Groaning, I clutch at my head and start counting faster, my eyes darting each and every way, as if I were going insane. I have to escape the noise one way or another.
Escape.
I pull myself up from my crumpled comforter and limp over to my desk, flipping on my speakers. I take my iPod in hand and search through the artists, looking for something to drown my mother out. And then I find it. Meshuggah. Perfect.
Turning it up as loudly as I can, I return to my mattress, landing on it with a soft thud and turn back to my wall, finding I've lost count but continue my mindless task anyway.
More banging on the door. Amongst all the noise, I hear her shrieks again. “Steven!” I know how she is, she won’t keep this up for much longer. Before long, her yelling behind the door disappears. Yes! I’ve won this round, mum. All I’m left with is the hypnotising sound of Jens Kidman’s screams resonating through the room.
Until I hear the scratch of the key in the doorknob. Shit, I must’ve forgotten to take it with me last night.
The next second she barges in, wading through the clothes strewn across the floor. Another second and she’s standing next to my bed, repeating my name like a parrot without a brain. Another second and she’s shaking my shoulder, attempting to wake me from my supposed slumber. I don’t bulge from her frantic shaking, hoping for her to just sigh that exasperated sigh and leave me be like she always does.
But today’s different. She walks over to my desk and slaps the speakers off. A deafening silence encases the room. That is, until she speaks again.
“Steven, please,” she starts begging. How pathetic can you get? “Could you please just get up? I’m tired of having to do this every single day with you.”
Just give it up.
She attempts to place her hand on my shoulder again, but I curl up against the wall, my face meeting my knees where I start to count the cross stitches in my jeans. Her hand meets my shoulder and I try to still my body, even to the point of where my breathing almost…stops. Get your hands off me.
Just give it up.
Finally the space on my shoulder is vacated again. “Fine.” The curtness of her voice was like a knife, but it was much too dull for the likes of me. “Fine.” Repeating herself like the goddamn parrot she is. “If you don’t want to get up, your loss. See if I care. You’re the one missing school.” I won’t miss it at all, thank you very much.
I hear her hands slap down against her sides, frustrated, and she finally sighs that exasperated sigh. Just like always. She makes an about face and mumbles something to herself. Probably the usual, “What happened to the son I used to know?” Or more appropriately, “Why is my son such a fuck up?” Love you too, mum.
The door slams shut and once again I am met with silence. I hear the soft thuds of her footsteps traveling down, and getting softer as she reaches the ground floor. More silence. And then finally the front door slams shut. A few more minutes, and the car’s engine comes to life as she pulls out of the driveway. But a smile appears on my face. No school. I have the house to myself once again.
Fuck yes.