Never Hour

Posted: June 9, 2010 in Fictional stories
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What would ‘never hour’ be?

Point-zero like the non-existence of the self. Somewhere floating in space. I can’t recollect when I started thinking along these lines. Maybe the time when my father was sick and couldn’t move a muscle or was it when I had a seizure and couldn’t find myself after that, for a while wondering what went wrong. How an organ of my body, the supercenter suddenly decided to call it quits and just floored my being in one single sweep as I lay on the street, helpless, completely dead to the world. When I came to my senses feet were shuffling around me, in unhurried movements and somebody was leaning over me in a benevolent fashion waiting to see if I would come around.

A series of headaches and a CT scan had not shown anything debilitating. Was there a monster in my head that I wasn’t aware off? I had heard of aneurysms erupting and taking its toll. There had to be an explanation since I was one of those who believed that every action has a reason and sometimes a scientific one at that.

The day seemed long and the nights longer. Being on the edge not knowing is pressure in itself. Trying to believe that destiny would not compel me to call it quits so early in my life was not the way I wanted to spend the evening of my life. Perchance the diagnosis was wrong and I had miles to go yet. Fait accompli might have other designs- on my insides collapsing while on the outside I was dandy and peachy pie. Savoring every moment of my existence as I whittled and jaded under my own brutal self-death. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I envisioned it to be but the doctor didn’t look as hopeful or was he the pessimistic kind that I had the misfortune to run into. Only time would tell.

The swing on the porch creaked as I rocked myself to sleep in the sun, the benign kindness of my spirits not letting me down as I gathered myself to dream away my time into world’s that I wouldn’t normally have made it on foot. The experience of being in the present but away in mind and space was as close as I could get to ecstasy on my sleepy feet. I wasn’t sure how long I slept that day and I wasn’t sure if I was awake or dead. I couldn’t feel a thing and that somehow didn’t seem important anymore.

I was happy, very happy to have been alive in that moment and that was important to me even if it was my final moment.


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