Janet CollinsPart II: A night of darkness
February 28th 2007 11:51
“BJORN !! BJORN !!”
They had heard it all night. They had known he was wrong, too, but people, prudent as they are, had not bothered to mention his all-too-frequent error.
“BJORN !!”
They’d be hearing til morning, til the monotonous ringing in the ears ceased, til the sun rose to its being just 6 hours later. But Tommy heard it too, his erroneous logic, illogical mind, irrational and psychoanalytical brain dwelled on the word: BJORN. He had been the one saying it, like a dunce, roaring after every song til the whistling stopped and the crowd was abuzz with anticipation of yet another.
Now? Another sleepless night spent in apprehension. Another day of chores, unaccomplished, will no doubt be carrying over week after week after week…
Then, it had been about the music. Now it was about the fantasy that often escaped the light and ventured through his mind. Tommy is prone to meeting the stretches of his imagination in daylight. People call them daydreams, though they are most common in bed, at night, with the cover pulled over one’s eyes.
The phone buzzed – again. When something electronic ceases to behave according to one’s desires, it is only logical that it would cease to be referred to in possessive language. The phone is no longer Tommy’s, he belongs to the phone. The sleek blue display glared at him, disapprovingly. Low battery. And… Missed Call? James.
Again?
They had heard it all night. They had known he was wrong, too, but people, prudent as they are, had not bothered to mention his all-too-frequent error.
“BJORN !!”
They’d be hearing til morning, til the monotonous ringing in the ears ceased, til the sun rose to its being just 6 hours later. But Tommy heard it too, his erroneous logic, illogical mind, irrational and psychoanalytical brain dwelled on the word: BJORN. He had been the one saying it, like a dunce, roaring after every song til the whistling stopped and the crowd was abuzz with anticipation of yet another.
Now? Another sleepless night spent in apprehension. Another day of chores, unaccomplished, will no doubt be carrying over week after week after week…
Then, it had been about the music. Now it was about the fantasy that often escaped the light and ventured through his mind. Tommy is prone to meeting the stretches of his imagination in daylight. People call them daydreams, though they are most common in bed, at night, with the cover pulled over one’s eyes.
The phone buzzed – again. When something electronic ceases to behave according to one’s desires, it is only logical that it would cease to be referred to in possessive language. The phone is no longer Tommy’s, he belongs to the phone. The sleek blue display glared at him, disapprovingly. Low battery. And… Missed Call? James.
Again?
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