Slow Chemical (NaNoWriMo Day 2, Wordcount: 419)
The beginning is always the hardest bit, but no less I'm a little dissapointed with how far I've gotten so far. It's a good start for the story though, and hopefully I can hit my stride tomorrow.
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon. I’m not one to get all cute and metaphorical with my phrasing, I’m simply telling you that I woke up with most of a smallish lemon in my mouth. That’s not to say that my mood wasn’t a bit sour either, because it’s really not the way that I’d like to wake up on most mornings. This morning I seemed to be strapped to a bed that was not mine, staring blankly at a neighborhood I did not recognize through a window I had not installed. It was a beautiful day out; the strange room I currently occupied was flooded with the light of Sunday morning, but I couldn’t help but think it might be nicer if it were my room and my window. Pretty, though.
I’m sure the lemon belonged to somebody else as well - I can’t remember ever purchasing one in my lifetime - so the first thing I decided to do was find its owner and ask them why I was covered in small scratches and bruises on such a beautiful day. I made several attempts to spit the lemon out but it was lodged in there pretty firmly, and secured by a handkerchief tied ‘round the back of my head. The hanky may have been mine actually, but I couldn’t smell it with the lemon so close to my nose. My only chance was to eat my way free, but after considering this for several minutes I decided that I preferred my eyesight to speech.
I tried hard to remember the previous night but all I came up with were seemingly random objects; I saw a power drill, a kitten, a bag of marbles and a vice. I began to worry for the kitten, but was interrupted by a stocky bald man bursting through the door shouting something about the window and Jesus Christ, with a flurry of colorful connectors.
“How could they be so bloody stupid? My word, this is such a sodden mess,” he grumbled as he pulled the blinds shut, “yes let’s show off the hostage to all the church-goers. Perhaps a sign out front, ‘we’ve not got any guns or kittens in here,’ just brilliant.”
I figured he was having a bad day too. He carried on rambling to himself as he scurried his way around the room inspecting everything he could lift or turn. I didn’t recognize him at all, but assumed we had been acquainted because he made no effort to introduce himself.
Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon. I’m not one to get all cute and metaphorical with my phrasing, I’m simply telling you that I woke up with most of a smallish lemon in my mouth. That’s not to say that my mood wasn’t a bit sour either, because it’s really not the way that I’d like to wake up on most mornings. This morning I seemed to be strapped to a bed that was not mine, staring blankly at a neighborhood I did not recognize through a window I had not installed. It was a beautiful day out; the strange room I currently occupied was flooded with the light of Sunday morning, but I couldn’t help but think it might be nicer if it were my room and my window. Pretty, though.
I’m sure the lemon belonged to somebody else as well - I can’t remember ever purchasing one in my lifetime - so the first thing I decided to do was find its owner and ask them why I was covered in small scratches and bruises on such a beautiful day. I made several attempts to spit the lemon out but it was lodged in there pretty firmly, and secured by a handkerchief tied ‘round the back of my head. The hanky may have been mine actually, but I couldn’t smell it with the lemon so close to my nose. My only chance was to eat my way free, but after considering this for several minutes I decided that I preferred my eyesight to speech.
I tried hard to remember the previous night but all I came up with were seemingly random objects; I saw a power drill, a kitten, a bag of marbles and a vice. I began to worry for the kitten, but was interrupted by a stocky bald man bursting through the door shouting something about the window and Jesus Christ, with a flurry of colorful connectors.
“How could they be so bloody stupid? My word, this is such a sodden mess,” he grumbled as he pulled the blinds shut, “yes let’s show off the hostage to all the church-goers. Perhaps a sign out front, ‘we’ve not got any guns or kittens in here,’ just brilliant.”
I figured he was having a bad day too. He carried on rambling to himself as he scurried his way around the room inspecting everything he could lift or turn. I didn’t recognize him at all, but assumed we had been acquainted because he made no effort to introduce himself.