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Rated: E · Short Story · Death · #1031906
A compelling short about death.
-I consider this a work of exaggerated non-fiction. But I believe that most writing pieces are. Take it in however you wish.- Ronnie

Mere Oration Does Not Suitably Fit This Occasion...

"Everything I think about is directed towards death. Not in a sadistic or obsessive manner, but rather an inescapable idea which looms drearily overhead (whether indoors or out) like a nocuous rain cloud. Every instant of life- while engaged in petty conversation or while simply capturing illustrious and elegant images through the art of memory- paradoxically dwells in the conclusion of positive mortality. Refining this idea to a sharper image, I parallel my thoughts on death to the thoughts of the Middle Ages: a period of belief that every moment in life (miniscule and important), and everything that God has planned, is all directly related to Jesus' abominable crucifixion. And though constantly exisiting within this state of mind may seem slightly tiresome, I have learned to adapt; I have become more dominantly aware of my surroundings, aware of my subjective reality and the importance thereof..."

And now, the years have passed. The construction known as "time" has rountinely advanced. The shell of my soul consists of many incongruities, arresting my vision and my ability to move. So I just lay, paralyzed and blind in my hospital bed. You may ask, 'what do I have now'? All I have are memories. I no longer live in the "real" world, the objective one. Because to me, it does not exist... I do not exist... I live beyond that- I swim in the enormity of my thoughts. Sometimes it can bring upon a hellish and tormenting value; but it must be experienced by the hordes of humanity.

Due to the long years of my human existence, my feeble physical state crumbles like the Berlin Wall. The generations of my family- they visit me and recognize my decay and think that I am unaware of this situation. Little do they know that I can see inside all of them; I see where they have been and the direction which they are headed. Everyone is facing the exact same way...

There is only a slight difference.

I have identified this difference and wish to shed it upon your eyes. A complication exists within the explanation though. Mere oration does not suitably fit this occasion; no art known to man can illustrate this phenomenon; no human mind can grasp this apparently irregular shaped concept- an unfathomable idea. You may be curious as to why I'm attempting to unravel the impossible- because that is exactly what must be broken, and the attempt in itself is of noble cause. With these last moments of life, as I lay here in my hospital bed, may this attempt disrupt any previous knowledge about life that dwells inside your mind. This mark will be permanent. It is painful.

-Ronnie Rose

© Copyright 2005 Ronnie R. (offfan1 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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