And then...

For the ninth time that day, the doorbell rang, bringing with it the expectations that always accompany a visitor to the asylum. But no one, oh yes none, knew its extent.

Escape

The truth is that the little animals couldn't run fast enough to escape their own minds, however weak they really were in comparison. They sprinted, O yes, they sprinted, and even jumped up trees, then from branch to branch, tree to tree, deftly dodging thought and idea as they tried to plan an escape but couldn't, their thoughts already occupied with attackers. Instead their only escape was through instinct; they were reduced to mere shadows of what they had become, and their abilities were now useless and all they could do was run.

Someone Wasn't Listening

As you can see, the children who have been betrayed are oblivious to the glory which has been produced by this betrayal, and though it is difficult to not pity them, I feel such a great remorse that I believe it to be not true, but artificially created for the sake of promoting their well-being, even in the present circumstance in which I know them not.

What Would Life Be Worth

if you didn't die a little every day?

Life's Tricks

Surreal as it was, he knew he had to go. Waking up on a stranger's couch is something that either reminds you of the night before, or of your own mortality. It really depends on what you drank before finding yourself there. But he found his keys, found the bathroom, then found his car. Work. At 10. That's why he left this house at 8, waving to the stranger at the top of the stairs as he left. On his way home, he realized that, not knowing when he fell asleep, he might still be too affected to drive. But it didn't feel like it. He'd be fine. He thought he should feel tired, as he usually did, but he was alert, if not refreshed. From there, his day transformed into what could be considered normal, although, once in a while, he would look down at himself and realize that he was never really there.

Premature Exit

As he stood with a look of nonchalance carved into his face, they began to realize he was serious. Some members of the audience began to smile; some began to despair. Most stood up and left, until less than a dozen remained to see the spectacle. He knew they would love it, but perhaps everyone would have, if only they had opened themselves up to it. As I left the building, I heard him calling out to them one by one to come up onto the stage. I suppose my cab driver was no better then he could have been.

He Will Play Chess.

His ringtone was the Imperial March, and it will forever play in my head, even now that he is so far away in the land of his home, where he learned the alphabet and how to climb and how to fall. This stuff made him happy and he wanted to do these many things at once, but it is only so much that one mind can handle, and one body is less capable still. Please forgive his mortality.