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Short story: ‘Confused’

It’s funny how things look different when you’re crazy. Few months ago, just before I got locked up, everything looked somehow more beautiful and at the same time unbearably hideous. Now I don’t really feel anything. The leaves in the trees have turned into all kinds of bright colors. That’s what they do when it gets cold. They die off and fall into the water. The lake slowly swallows them and softly they fall to the bottom where it’s always dark and quiet. Why am I so sad and confused anyway? I should be happy now that they let me loose again. Things are just so different now that it’s hard to cope with what someone might call a normal life. Everything makes more sense now, but at the same time everything’s so much more boring. Back then the birds in the forest were singing songs of epic tales and I listened and sang along. Now I would just like to go get my bee-bee gun and shoot that damn crow so it would finally shut up and leave me alone. This pier, reaching out to the lake, also seemed so much more interesting. I remember how the lake felt like a portal to beyond, and the pier was a bridge I had to cross to get into somewhere else, better than this place. Now the lake is just a lake without any deeper meaning and the pier looks like it could use a hammer and few nails again. The metal parts are rusty and the blue barrels keeping the pier from sinking have gathered some weird watery moss. The shape of the lake still reminds me of the number eight for some reason, at least that’s something that hasn’t changed. But then again, it always looked like that to the naked eye, just like it looks a bit like a skull if you check out a map of the area. It’s so damn boring in here, I don’t like the silence at all. That’s what made me go nuts in the first place I think. Being mad definitely has its good sides, no matter how much doctors tell you to eat pills that supposedly make you feel better. They don’t, but I’ll be a good boy and keep popping them. They told me that becoming normal again rests on the assumption that I’ll keep being a good boy who does what he’s told. Should take one now actually. It’s weird, these pills are the same color as the moss on the barrels. Maybe they make these pills out of that moss, wouldn’t that be funny? I think it’s going to rain soon, the clouds seem to be gathering up into an angry mob. I hope they’ll start throwing their bolts of lightning again, there’s something about thunder storms that I like. Makes me feel alive when all my senses are being tickled so. The booming sound is music to my ears, the earth shakes when the storm is right on top, the bright lights in the sky look magnificent, and the best of all is that thick fog appearing on top of the lake when it’s raining . The fog looks quite spooky sometimes, but what wouldn’t be spooky about this forest when the evenings start getting darker and darker. I should go back inside to the cabin before I get wet. It looks like a face with fiery eyes from this angle. Don’t think grandpa thought of that when he was planning the placement of the windows. That, or maybe I’m just still crazy.

Published inCreative Writing

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