there is a bouquet of cement stairs leading into the clouds in this steel-structured building that you're climbing up.
and up.
and up.
the cold metal railing that lines the cement stairs that lead into the clouds used to be painted a dark navy blue, but is chipped away from all the fingerprints and palms and personalities that have rubbed off flakes of it with all their use and visiting. you're not in a hurry, but you're not taking your time. you progressively lose oxygen with each reach forward to the next cement block, strategically set back half a foot. somewhere between floors eight and sixteen you look down between the open sore that engulfs the way down, or up, depending on where you're looking from.
you reach the landing, and the door with the warning that you're too busy to read because you know that the warning means little to you anymore, and after this moment - right now - you aren't going to have to live by how other people tell you, or signs, or the government, or 'the man', and you smile to yourself.
you rest your sweaty palm on top of the horizontal handle and apply pressure. as the air and wind and altitude climbs in, you climb out.
you're on top of the world, literally, and all the bugs that run around on the paved tracks twenty-six floors below you scurry because they've got families and worries and doubt and feeling and emotion and
purpose.
you can hear the pebbles grinding with each step you take closer and closer to the edge to see the bugs, and think about the bugs, and who they know, and what their life is like, and what they're thinking.
and at some point you realize you don't care. you have no purpose, and all your life has been set out to please the bugs. they don't know you, and they won't miss you.
your arms, outstretched like wings of a bird of some sort catch wind, and send you toppling over the edge of the twenty-six floors you've just climbed up.
and as all the memories and feelings and purpose collaborate inside your skull, you realize there is no changing your mind.
the bugs are bigger now.
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this is horrendous. not a good story-line, but i need to have this idea out there so i can revamp it and redo it and fix it and make it sound presentable. give me an opinion.
ReplyDeletei hope you don't think i'm a creeper for following you when we've never met ... i'm a friend of jordan's, and when i read your blog i thought it was really good. you seem like a very intelligent, thoughtful person and i would love to meet you. sorry, i'm not sure what to critique about this, i personally love it, but maybe i'm just being naive.
ReplyDeletei liked it, i really did...
ReplyDeletepersonally, i would like the beginning to have a bit more detail, like the issues and struggles that have lead the person to climb the stairs and like come to the conclusion that this is the last thing to do.
but, thats just my opinion.
it was really well written, i loved it.
jessie; thanks for the comment. i'm glad you liked it, and i'd love to meet you as well!
ReplyDeletebrittany; thanks for your opinion. the way i wrote it is so you can feel like you're in the position, with your own struggles and problems and it leads you to it. i didn't want to personalize it too much because it takes away from putting you in the story.
beautiful! loved it
ReplyDeleteThis is why I love you - - you serve a purpose in my being. You inspire me to become a better me, influenced by the way you lead your life.
ReplyDeletekasssaaaanova; i love you too. :) i'm going to miss our little talks when we hang out and all that business. i think i am going to make it a point to drive the baby cav out to see you as often as i can. :)
ReplyDelete