Creative Piece Prompt 7
I awake, the light is similar to that of the sun. My eyes are slowly burning. The sensation, I imagine, is similar to that of hot lead pressing up against my eyes. The pain is unbearable and it pains the insides of my mind to open my eyes. I can’t stop. I open my eye again and again ten times over.
I stumble to my feet still half blind and physically drained from the ten hours I spent in the same position. Honestly, I don’t think I moved an inch.
I waddle to the bathroom like one of those penguins David Attenborough talks about. I turn the tap and splash a couple of handfuls of water onto my withered face, to try and retrieve my youth. All I want is my morning coffee, I yearn for the taste of alertness to embrace my tired lips, but I am flooded with the realization that we had none of that ‘knowledge juice.’ “Fucking hell” I mumble, letting the disappointment slowly set in.
A few moments later I enter the kitchen breathing in and savoring the unforgettable scent of the 5-star breakfast that my father has prepared for mother. This indulgent aroma which gripped my senses reminded me of the irreproachable breakfasts which we received in Northern England mid last year. “Morning” he proclaims. “Good morning.” I reply “How’d you sleep?” “N-not bad.” I stutter, still tired clearly.
I was always perplexed by my father, even if he was asleep by midnight he would always be wide awake by 6:30am without fail, to help my mother and I have a great start to the day. To me he seems almost supernatural, he somehow finds time to get anything done that needs doing. It is almost as if time steps out of his way and allows him to do whatever he needs to do. He is like a superhero.
My father’s thinks highly of me, always has, always will. But sometimes he completely disregards common sense to fulfill his idea of what was the ‘right thing to do.’ When I receive a sporting injury my father’s disappointment shows. It erupts and flows out of him like a massive Krakatoan eruption, and I can do nothing but defy my pain and mental distress by carrying on doing the ‘right thing to do.’
I glance toward the front porch; my cats are still fast asleep on the porch chairs. I have always wanted to be a cat, just for a day, living life without a care in the world, just concerned with where you will eat, shit, piss and sleep.
I’m distracted.
