Something Ordinary My Life. Dreams. Projects. Events. More..

2

THOMAS released the handle of the door, pressing the door forward, and walked out into the sewers. The intoxicating smell was all too familiar. He thought to himself how it all began. It was almost three years since it had taken over his life. He could still feel the day he started pushing his natural gift, remembering every stroke of incite, recalling every notion that swam through his mind at the time. “Gift?”, thought THOMAS, “More like a curse.” THOMAS continued on contemplating whether it was a god-granted ability or an ancestral curse. Treading through the knee-deep sewage for roughly half a mile, he reached his stop.

Grabbing on to each cold metal bar, he climbed the tower to the top, where endless opportunity was at hand. At first, he gently tapped the manhole covering. There was no resistance. He gave a mighty shove and then proceeded to lift himself up and out. The smell of fresh air flooded his nostrils. Overwhelming him, he stumbled towards the closest coverings. He went up three floors using the fire-escape and made his way into the hallway. One step. Then another. Each was absent of sound. The pattern repeated until he made his way to room 308. He tried the door. It was locked. “Good, that’s how I left it,” thought THOMAS. He felt around his pockets for his key but couldn’t find it. He then fumbled around his memories until settling upon the one that told him that he had left it in the white room.

THOMAS weighed the choice of using his gift, his teleknesis. What was the magnitude of the action? How much pressure would it exert on him? For how long? How much energy would it take out of him? All these he had to take in account. The answers came naturally to him, due to rigorous practice of analyzing so many events beforehand. He began the process. His senses honed to his target, the door’s locking mechanism. He felt the surfaces of the keys, raising each of them separately until they were in perfect precision. The first one locked, and the second one. He continued doing so, at the slow, lethargic ratem for the faster he went, the more pressure he would exert and the more damage would be done. And if fast enough, the damage would be unrepairable. He went slower and slower after every one, as it took energy to hold the heavy poles up in the perfect position. After three minutes, he grabbed for the handle and the door gave way.

1

The final steps to the end of the corridor were always long ones. They were strides that made THOMAS reconsider whether this life was worth living – going on with this routine of a 10-hour work day, five days a week. Was it enough to be able to know that the numbers in his investment were increasing? Was the trade off of wealth worth meticulously handling the precisions of others, managing their every move, only to spend his free time watching such material entities be earned?

As THOMAS approached the doors, the ground began to shake. The door knob rattled and the walls seem to fall apart. Everything seem to be caving in on him. THOMAS first felt a surge of panic. Then it faded. He remembered. THOMAS stood there as the world around him caved in, and even the sky fell on him. Calmly, as if out a pleasant dream, he awoke. The pale white walls around him seemed all too familiar. His vision, somewhat blurred saw a nearby figure sitting down. The voice began speaking in a welcoming tone and THOMAS felt at ease, familiar to it.

“Playing with memories are hard THOMAS. Trying to live in the past is nearly impossible. I know the fear of the unknown, and I know there are some days that feel like they’re never going to end, but you have to deal with it in the present,” said the voice.

“Right. And that’s worked out for you so well. Living the past forty-two years behind these walls, locked in this chamber,” replied THOMAS with a bit of angst.

“I am not locked in here against my will. I can break these shackles and free myself from this self-imprisonment. I just decide against it, not of fear of my own self, but for the safety of others,” replied the voice calmly once again.

“Well, I’m out of here. I’ve got to try to fix it,” said THOMAS as he got up out of bed, and quickly left.

“Remember, if you need any help, I’m here.”

*THOMAS will be replaced with another name. Right now it’s very arbitrary.

Overview

I am going to spend the next few months working on a story. I will work on storyboard pieces on a sketchpad to improve my mediocre drawing capabilities. The purpose is to improve my ability to convey my ideas, both through writing and visuals. Wish me luck.