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This started with a walk through a parking lot and a gimmick: take the first word that came to mind and start typing (with my thumbs… like most posts these days, all I had was my phone when I started). I typed this a couple weeks ago and obviously hadn’t posted it. I wasn’t going to. I didn’t / don’t particularly like it… repetitive, uninspired, short, obvious – or not as obvious as I think, and not obvious enough.

Going through my not posted collection, Cheryl thought this one should be. So if you don’t like it she should get at least half the blame.

You remember the day the world cracked, don’t you? Before it started – before anyone really noticed, everyone told me it wasn’t the end of the world. Shows how much they knew.

Didn’t I try to tell them something was wrong? I had a funny feeling. It kept getting stronger, but no one would listen – not until it was too late anyway. Who was going to argue with furniture flying around the room? What did I get for trying – a few dismissive pats on the head? That sure didn’t help. The fit sure hit the shan when I lost control though. God help me, I knew it would happen. Did I deserve a dark underground cell for my honesty – and trust? I suppose I can’t blame them. I mean, I’d feel threatened when buildings started sliding off their foundations. But why did they think a cell would be enough?

The look on Doc’s face when the walls blew out and the mountain came down around us – you’ll think I’m terrible – priceless! I feel bad for the staff, but what can I do? If I can’t explain me and the Doc getting out, how can I begin to explain the rest of it? Hell, I don’t even know if I’m really doing it, or if I can just sense it coming – not that anyone cares to make a distinction.

Who am I kidding? It’s gotta be me. I know it and they know it, even if they were late to the game.

I felt the crack before everyone else. I felt it the way a mother senses trouble in a quiet house. Of course, I felt it later along with everyone else too. Land masses accustomed to moving inches over years put up a mighty struggle when pushed feet in minutes.


You want to know how I got out here?

No, I don’t want to take any more pills.

1 Comment

  1. I felt it the way a mother senses trouble in a quiet house.

    Great sentence. That paragraph should have been the last. The rest is the over-tell you suspect you’re guilty of.

    I liked the story.

Give the gift of words.