Cold, gray… me. – REVIEWED

I wake from sleep with a parched throat and tired limbs. The rays of light illuminate my room, creating shadows here and patches of glare there. The air is heavy with the toil of labor and alive with the pang of truth–and I breathe it in but I choke.

I know its going to happen. Today. Its clearly spelled out and defined in the air I breathe and in the heart that pumps life to my extremities and soul. My dawn had come to claim my horizon.

My toes touched the hardwood floor and twitched from the cold. My hair–scruffy as always–tickled my forehead and my eyes felt heavy from the government work. It had only been 3 years since the government began to provide jobs to people. Ever since the Crash… nothing really has been the same–

“Andrew! Come down here, son!” my mother calls.

I hurried downstairs, touching the rough texture of the wall while the smell of unsalted soup entered my nostrils.

“Yes mother?” I inquire curiously

The dawn had come to claim my horizon (photo: auensen/Flickr Creative Commons)

. “How may I help?”

“Your step father and your brothers will be home soon. Lets set up.”

She poured the hot liquid into dented metal bowls. I dug around in the cupboard and I found two cans of mixed fruit that had not been touched until now. I asked my mother if we could have such a treat and she sighed, but said yes.

She had  sadness in her eyes. Once a beautiful woman, she now morphed into a washed out version of herself. She used to be able to provide us with anything we wished but now, she can barely afford to give us canned fruits. Her body resembled a traveler with a heavy load.  A load that no one but her can carry.

But then, I remembered. My brothers. I had two of them and they have the clarity of the ocean in their eyes. I longed for them and no later did I think this, they walked in with my step father.

He stood, tall and strong, with the face that is roughly craved and covered with rough patches of dirt and passion. My step father had clear, serious eyes that shined in the sun. He stood a full foot above my head and had a voice that was equally calming yet forceful–his aura held a cloud of authority and peace.

“Andrew, it’s good to see you up,” he said with a serious yet caring below.

“Yes, I lose my track of time…” my voice trailed off as I saw my brothers run up under and around my step fathers legs.

“Andrew!! Guess what we did with daddy!?” they yelled in pendantic excitement.

“What?” I asked with smile.

“Well,” William, my 11 year old brother began. “We went to the pond and we discovered several spieces of animals and fauna. We even caught a lizard–but we had to let it go free.”

“I ate a worm!” my 6 year old brother Ever yelled in glee. “Daddy couldn’t stop laughing and William nearly spilled his guts!”

After several moments of them arguing over the legitimacy of Ever’s statements my step father and mother discussed something in hushed tones over the stove.

I knew what they were discussing but I need not discuss this with the reader. For now.

My mother served us small portions of plain watery soup and a small cup of mixed fruits. I haven’t had a meal like this in about 2 weeks. The government comes to our door and hands us rations that consist of bread and cans of soup. They have yet to come to our door.

My brothers nearly choked on their fruit. It is a luxury to have something sweet. I ate with care and gave them each half of my fruit. They are too young to realize that this is a fleeting moment of joy.

After we finished, the table was cleared of the essence of the fruit and my little brothers went to clear their faces of the stickiness from the syrup. I went up stairs to my bed, and I laid down on my bed to ponder with the sunset.

Something stirred me. Then I heard my step father call me softly.

“Yes, Step father?” I asked as I walked down the stairs to discover my home transformed. Everything was white. Sheets covered the floors, the walls, and everything around me. The windows were open and a chair was placed in the center of the room, covered in a blanket.

I knew it had to be done. We are starving. I ate too much and my brothers had a better chance of surviving the turmoil if my mouth ceased to desire food.

“Do what you must,” I said to my step father.

He motioned to the chair and I did as he said. I sat, facing the largest window in the house with a view of the pastoral fields of grass and the setting sun. It’s rays reached out to me, and grasped my soul in its clutches to set down with it.

My father left me and went to shuffle through a drawer for the the instrument. He came back to me. My last sight was of the sun setting as he placed a blind fold over my eyes.

“Andrew… I really do love you son. I truly do.”

I nodded.

I felt the cold, metal tip of the instrument graze over the rear of my skull.

Then black overtook my body, my soul, and my spirit. I fell into a abyss of never ending, painful peace. Peace. Peace.

…

Note: This is a dream of mine. It’s one of the only dreams I can remember in explicit detail. It continues on but I must cut this short for the sake of the sanity of editors and my sanity as a writer. Thanks for reading.