Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Gallows by Melissa Brown (list of e readers .TXT) 📖
- Author: Melissa Brown
Book online «Gallows by Melissa Brown (list of e readers .TXT) 📖». Author Melissa Brown
I toss everything in garbage bags, drag the food out of the fridge and the pantry and take it outside. The cold hair hits my naked skin but I can barely feel it. I drop it on the front lawn.
Holding the lid to the trash can open, the Pilot takes off his goggles and bows before climbing inside.
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I've snuck to the garage, the keys to my car dangling in my hand. I'm shaking, wrapping the seatbelt around myself. The fabric feels like sandpaper against my skin.
I can barely get the door open before I'm crying again, gentle sobs. I'm holding my shoulders, waiting for some kind of voice to convince me of something, but there is nothing. I'm alone. The air is still aside from the opening of the garage door, a gentle hum. I find it somewhat comforting.
The engine sounds feral, like a monster ready to crawl out and devour me. I drive slowly, making it to the street. I'm shaking, feeling even more out of place doing a commonplace thing like driving. A few people catch a glimpse of me in my underwear with my hair sticking out in all directions. When I manage to stop crying I feel a strange sense of peace. I am the only person in the world.
I drive towards a bank with glass windows. People are lined up to deposit checks, check their balances. Wringing their hands in worry like their lives are on the line because they might not have enough money. Seeing that, it's a bit sad that people would consider me insane. Money and objects are even more irrelevant than the human heart.
I can feel my pulse in my throat as I pull into the parking lot but don't find a space. When I get towards the sidewalk I break. My mouth is dry and my heart is beating in my skull and my feet and my stomach is doing gymnastics. Spiders crawl down my spine like a meth high. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and my eyes are bloodshot. Fortunately, I seem to be disappearing.
I take my hands off the wheel, foot pressed on the accelerator. Closer now, just a few more feet.
With my arms out and glass coming closer and closer, breaking all around me, I am finally free. I am flying.
Publication Date: 04-10-2010
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