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Literature Text
The green flash had turned into the morning sun from his window, filtering through the dusty blinds and directly into his eyes. He rolled over, but to no avail. The white walls of his room reflected the light and made the sunlight a weapon of morning. Also his alarm clock was spewing static and blinking 12:00.
He managed to drag himself out of bed and find some clothes that weren't dirty in his messy drawers. He picked his way downstairs where he could hear the TV blasting its wall of sound. One of those games not good enough to be on in the evening flickered across the screen in a blur of green and the black-and-white of the soccer ball. Only the ancient cat, Ruth, a frail orange piece of carpet, was there to see the Killer Whales or whatever face off against the other team. And she was too busy with grooming herself. This action gave the impression of a skinny, arthritic old lady who may have been a ballerina at one time, and was trying to dance again.
It was Saturday, and it was supposed to rain until Monday, the white concrete turning a darker shade and giving up a certain smell of dirt, bubblegum and wet concrete. There wasn't much to keep his mind off of the dream. It had felt so real that he had thought it had been. but he had woken up anyway.
He dug in one of the boxes stacked in his room until he found his Xbox, and tried to forget about the green explosion that had happened when he'd hit the tree.
He managed to drag himself out of bed and find some clothes that weren't dirty in his messy drawers. He picked his way downstairs where he could hear the TV blasting its wall of sound. One of those games not good enough to be on in the evening flickered across the screen in a blur of green and the black-and-white of the soccer ball. Only the ancient cat, Ruth, a frail orange piece of carpet, was there to see the Killer Whales or whatever face off against the other team. And she was too busy with grooming herself. This action gave the impression of a skinny, arthritic old lady who may have been a ballerina at one time, and was trying to dance again.
It was Saturday, and it was supposed to rain until Monday, the white concrete turning a darker shade and giving up a certain smell of dirt, bubblegum and wet concrete. There wasn't much to keep his mind off of the dream. It had felt so real that he had thought it had been. but he had woken up anyway.
He dug in one of the boxes stacked in his room until he found his Xbox, and tried to forget about the green explosion that had happened when he'd hit the tree.
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uh. Yea... More... I have plans for this dude...
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