Oneshot Short Story #6
I stared forlornly into the vast wilderness that was my mind's inner workings. Several cogs were spinning slowly, driving the piston that was attemping to spark some thoughts into my subconcious, without avail. Unfinished buildings that I had constructed from the past were frail and crumbling. I had attempted to assist in their demise, but inspiration seemed only to re-enforce them and rebuild them. I knew they would be a victim to this vicious cycle, sadly knowing that I am the one causing their delay. Newer unfinished buildings holding my memories were still well under construction, my internal helpers adding each new layer with tedious care, almost parental it seems and I chuckled inwardly.
I walked on a mobile platform through this internal world of mine and I observed with great admiration my life's work. Though incomplete, it was nonetheless impressive in its grandeur and expanse. People who I've remembered and lost wandered the streets, prisoners to my concious, were blissfully unaware that they were no longer with my in body, but continued to live and interact as if this was the most normal thing in the world. I guess that made me a God in my own little world, and that only made my benevolance that more pronounced. They however were unaware I was both their saviour and eventual source of their demise. After all, the memory is a precious thing to waste, and it ends up deteriorating on its own in its attempt to salvage itself. It is both a comforting and scary thought.
I watched that bubble disperse from my imagination and root itself into the structure, weakening it already. It's only a matter of time before I can no longer wander these expanses and see my world in such clarity.
THE END
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