Igor and the Others

Chapter 1.

I'm dreaming again. In the strangest sense of the word, my nervous system alert, my head up and processing, my legs bent – curved – pushing against the mysterious force of gravity that encases our small dot of air.

And I can see the evil. It happens when you least except it. A whirlwind of thought, control, ability to function all go down the drain. I'm finding my reflection sallow and weak. Anorexia or obesity. Normality in a paradox hallucination, I blink.

It snaps out of view and I can feel the wind again. When was I last here?

Ahh…last fall , yes now I remember. There was a man on the pathway holding a sign that read "The End of The World is Near," He was scraggly, beaten and caked in patches of filth. I don't remember telling my body to move towards the sign, but nevertheless I had pushed forward through the small crowd of people.

"Find the Light and ye shall all be saved!" He cried, swaying on the dilapidated park bench. Its tiny wooden boards just near breaking.

I ran my fingers over the crudely written letters. Smooth and still wet; I wiped it on my coat.

The end of the world didn't seem so bad.

"You got a light?" I whipped my head east.

"No." I replied curtly to the overweight gentlemen leaning against the nearest building. Tattered drapes visible on the inside, cracked glass confusing the rays of sunlight, a kaleidoscope of gold danced on the particles floating in the air.

My eyes shot down,

Up.

Fluttered and closed.

Opened.

I was with my mother, and she was dying. Cold and metallic, the hospital room was sterile and built like a small capsule. As if mother was a bomb ticking down, winding down, only mere seconds left to breathe. She inhaled.

I exhaled.

I turned to the window, focusing on the dust in the air.

Deep breath and I opened my eyes.

"Thanks anyway," the man said as he began lumbering down the littered sidewalk.

Memories upon memories upon thoughts.

Its a never ending spiral that I can't seem to see correctly, nor do I want to even take a glimpse. All that pain would be too unbea---

"IGOR! Get your ass downstairs ASAP! I made tuna casserole!"

I winced.