One week in a day...

The ceiling shows the time. It is 6:30a.m, “Damn, I'm late…” Slowly rising from the bed I walk to the bathroom. It's occupied. I make my way back to my room and after quickly changing I slid back into bed. I close my eyes and a war erupts. Cannons go off and people scream for order, my mom won't stop yelling. I go to the bathroom and wash my face and teeth, among other duties. I'm off to work.

I drive with ease, as people move to the sound of music. Their motion is soothing. I get to work just on time, only to be bombarded by children. Their minds open to knowledge, but filled with crap. I scrape out some filth, but as I dig I see no use. The moment I leave them they'll acquire new garbage. I'm not sure why I bother sometimes. As questions keep rising I work my eyes towards the clock, it is 9 a.m. I put their minds to rest and walk towards the door. The battle begins.

As my chariot awaits, I get in the car and drive towards a mined field. Slowly my car turns into a tank, “that bastard cut me off…jerk!” I can't be late, I have a mission. Arriving at my destination I park and gather my tools. I have two classes and papers are due. I'm so tired.

I rush to my class as a mountain forms between me and my destination. There's no other way up, I must climb. As I reach the top I chuckle at my victory. I look back to savor the triumph only to have cold empty stairs stare back at me. “I hope no one saw that…”

Ambushed by words, a storm of phrases and concepts rains down on me, I'm prepared. Those sleepless nights have equipped me with new tools, I've become more alert. “I'm untouchable,” am I getting too cocky? A back-side attack! I'm caught off guard, but it's ok no one was hurt, only my pride. New knowledge is gained, and it's that time again -- work.

With the least level of enthusiasm I enclose myself in a metal tomb and drive off. Another two hours of work, these kids transform into leeches. They don't seem to quit. A bran new brand of vermin branch out to suck me dry, but its ok they make me smile. Closing time, I leave refreshed and tired all at once. Their fervent exclaims of goodbye marks a smile on my face. An ocean appears which makes the ride home calm, the roads are tranquil. Thoughts of nourishment consume me, “I hope my mom made food.” I get home only to find nothing, “crap I have to cook!” Agitated, I make a meal that drowns the taste buds, “yep I'm good…” I'm relaxed. My eyes grow heavy; a quick nap should do me well.

An hour turns into three, and I awake into darkness. The room turns into nothingness, as I work my way through unseen obstacles. I gather my things and walk through gates that lead me face to face with a pervert no one but I can see. “I've killed you before. Why do they keep bringing you back? Why can't they see what I see? Show your true form!” My thoughts scream as a nothingness turns into a field of carnage, his remains cover the grown. I walk over each carcass in order to reach the door. “Be careful,” my mom says. Her words dampen the field, as I walk towards the car my anger subsides.

Hours of study keep me alert. The rustling noise of the outside is covered by equations and mechanisms. I must be prepared. As the sound of metal shifting and banging reaches my ears I notice it is 11p.m. I have to go. The outside, empty and dim; I walk alone with only the wind by my side. “I'll be there in a few minutes,” I bring comfort and ease to my mom, I'll be home soon.

An abyss of poorly lit structures hovers behind me, as the thought of “will my car be there?” lingers. An echo of screeches surrounds the lot, cars driving into darkness in search of their homes. The light passes by me, the music full blast; there is no one around me to move to the beat. It's so empty.

I climb up the stair way with ease and delight, as images of peace begin to take flight. I make my self known as I step through the door, I'm greeted with smirks and mumbling words. A beckon of slumber begins to call forth, so I walk to my room as sleep takes a hold. I bathe and I change to bring comfort to sleep, yet images of battles begin once again. I lay on my bed, the ceiling brings silence. I've seen several battles but I've yet to see the war.
“
It's barely Monday and already I'm worn.” One day of the week, which seems to repeat.

E.R.

That was really great neuterdbynature.

It would go really well in the Writing on your Authentic Self thread.

Is it somehow about you or is it purely fiction?