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| No one will read this |
| A story, perhaps? The weather was, as some deranged souls would describe it, haunting, the wind was like the disturbed shrieks and moans of the long gone, tormented souls which tragically had, allegedly, left us all way too early. While some people might enjoy such absurd winds, the main character of this story did not. Why? The standard fear of the unknown and uncontrollable. The branches scratching the windows were mortifying to him as it reminded him of some vague memory that was likely constructed later in life, and was statistically more likely to be him confusing facts and fiction. The heavy rain, however, did not really bother him. It should not bother any of the people living there, quite the contrary. The absence of rain was more likely to be perceived as disturbing. Quite a gloomy setting, perhaps. But as everyone knows, the weather is irrelevant, so my duty as the narrator of this story is to move on to something more intriguing to the readers, especially now as the scene is set. Or is the scene really fully set? Arguably not, so let me continue to describe it, as only the worthy reader, the attentive reader, deserves to know the story about this coward of a main character. The weather was not the only factor to take into account when discussing the absolute terror he experienced in this moment. No, the absence of his parents - although they would arguably not contribute to any long term relaxation, their mere function in such a situation would best be described as a flickering nightlamp for infants, only seconds away from darkness - contributed to increased terror. He should have been mature enough to handle anything without the protection of his caregivers, at least he was religiously convinced that it was the case. However, he quickly realised he was wrong. Unfathomably wrong. Never in recorded history has anyone been as wrong as he was, allegedly. So what? A male of unknown age with the parents not currently home during a possibly mild storm, not really a big deal. Indeed, you would think so. But so far, the details aren't clear. Not to you, the reader, or to him, the person experiencing this terror. Is terror an appropriate term to use? He was close to frozen from fear, completely unable to move, to talk, actually incapable of doing anything. That was what he felt like. For any possible bystanders, that was not the truth. While our dear main character felt as if he was in complete silence, the only sense that was truly active was related to feelings more than anything, the reality is that there was no silence, no one present to what was about to happen could hear their own thoughts as the silence was nothing but him screaming in the wildest panic he had ever experienced. His sight was also cluttered by this pathetic fear for the unknown, everything was dark and blurry. As you, the reader, will learn, it was for the better. Had his sight, or hearing for that matter, been intact, it would all be an even more traumatic experience. Luckily for him, he would never know that. As he never knew that, you are also spared from the horrible details of the event. What event? Right, you still don't know. At this stage you probably feel like you will never know, and perhaps that is the truth. Maybe you will never know. Reading long texts appears to be less and less appealing these days, people are too occupied scrolling through whatever social medium or phenomenon that is the current hot thing. This story is certainly not that, chances are you have not even reach this far. You are already bored. If someone could just quickly sum it up for you in an entertaining way you would without a doubt prefer that, and it is probably the healthiest way to deal with the story... unless that is not the case. Is there anything greater than pure curiosity? I digress, this is irrelevant to the story. What are the facts and the fiction? He could not tell in the situation he was in. He was sure he was imagining things, he was irrationally scared. It was probably nothing. Just bad weather and a lively imagination. Desperately he tried to calm himself down, convincing himself that it was not real. It was real. Shockingly. |
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