neglect-edge

Currently listening to : Professor Nutbutter’s House of Treats – Primus
 

NOTE – There’s a fly buzzing around in my room. I TOTALLY LUNGED FOR IT AND CAUGHT IT IN MY LEFT HAND. Now I feel like a kung-fu badass.

Been at it again. Neglecting this place, I mean. But, well, I’m working on quitting that. I can’t remember if I already mentioned it or night, but at work, I finally got moved to the other department. I’m finally getting the hang out things and I’m so happy that I don’t hate my job yet. I hope it stays that way.

I’ve still been plodding along with that story I wrote about last. Still really, REALLY rough but I have an intense urge to post some on here, so I’ll throw some of the introduction in. Mind you – the tasty stuff hasn’t yet begun in this part. I guess part of me just needs to read it off this little notebook too. And alas, OD is being a little bit of a bitch so I can’t post pictures. I’ll throw those in during an edit later or tomorrow.

…

    Lightning flashed. Again. And again.
    Something’s wrong.
    But what? It was so simple that it evaded me completely and didn’t surface until it underwent contemplation beneath the mind of a bright eleven year old. Mikey walked up right beside me and took my hand.
    "Where’s the thunder, daddy?"
    "I," I started, and yeah – that was it. There was brilliant artillery in the sky, but it was like it was just on mute. "Well, I don’t know."
    We watched together as clouds roiled and spilled out of one another, every once in a while igniting with that silent, internal, white fire. But indeed, where was the thunder? I’d heard somewhere that if lightning happened something like 15 miles away, you might not catch a thunderclap, but this…well, hell, this was right on top of us.
    Except for the silky sound of the wind runnig it’s fingers though the trees and the bush all around us, everything was absolutely quiet. No birds or insects. Nothing. Just my son Oooing and Ahhing everytime that a sharp fork of lightning jabbed it’s way through or out of those bloated, bruised clouds.
    I’m not quite sure how long we stood there on the white wooden floorboards of the porch. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. I know that sounds ridiculous, but something about the wind, the air, the damp scent and lack of sound created   something there between my boy and I.
    Something’s trying to come through, I thought absurdly, sort of confusing myself out of that daze. It seemed that a considerable amount of time had passed. It was darker. It might have been the dark clouds rather than a long passage of time, but looking back on it now, I think it was both.  
     "I don’t like it, daddy."
    "It’s just a storm, Mikey," I said, still a little shaken by the lapse of time. Or the appearance of one…I still wasn’t sure.
    "It’ll be gone in the morning."
    He looked up into my eyes and held my gaze for a bit before looking away and into the grey-black swirls.
    "I don’t like it," he said again, looking more troubled than ever.
    "Don’t worry, Mike," I said and kneeled down to hug him. He hugged me back in a panicky sort of way that worried me further so I pulled him into my arms and carried him up. I started walking towards the door when I
    (Something’s trying to come through)
    looked out one more time.
    Just a storm, I’d said. That’s all. Why, then, were my palms slick with sweat? Why could I feel my rapid heartbeat in my eyeballs?
    The door clicked shut in it’s perfectly rational way that made me feel a little embarrassed about thinking such things. It didn’t change the fact that I was still feeling uneasy, though.
    Outside, a steady, heavy rain began to fall.
    Sometime in the night, Sunday rolled into Monday.  

…

And that’s a little bit of what I’m working on. If you skipped over it , PLEASE read it and tell me what you think?

I love her more than anything, guys.