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Lying in Wait
By XxThundagaxX and youRAVEragekid
The walking things left the house in a flash, the small ones first, and then big ones all piling out of the door hurriedly, while sounds of war and ruin hung in the air, overhead. This intrigued me, because they all had backpacks and briefcases packed to the brim with clothing—where were they all going? Standing where I always have, I started to peek around a bit. Everything looked normal, still, and, serene. It was around say, five o’clock, and the sun’s beams of pure orange cast through the air, and cascaded through-out the whole living room. It was my favorite time of day, when the tiled glass walls in the kitchen look to be stricken ablaze, and the dust that hung in the air shown gold.
All was peaceful—though the sounds of gunfire outside were quite out of place, for usually you’d hear birds singing, chimes ringing, and children laughing happily along—but there were none. By then I was curious, so I sort of, tilted my shade and neck to the left to look out the window—but to no avail; I don’t have the will to move it. I keep trying, and straining, and it’s enough to make my body wobble a bit, but I really am stuck in place. If I could, just—kind of, stretch a little bit more… Ah, no. It won’t work, I don’t think I can turn to the window; it’s too far, and sadly just out of reach.
I can still hear talking outside, but the screaming and crowds of people seem to have vanished. The sun is covered by the horizon, and the room is now a dull purple. The voices grew faint, but they were there, always chatting in a low voice. It sounded like three walking things, two were men, buy one was a woman. I can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but I hear bits and pieces. Then, to my surprise, a bright orange light could be seen just to my right, out the open window. It was as warm as the sun, if only I could see it, but as luck would have it, it was just out of eyesight.
The walking things made a campfire, and were talking about something to do with their families. I heard bits and pieces like “Famili-“ and “Plea-“ I tried to listen, but the sounds of the crackling fire lulled me, and I could barely stay awake. I was indeed tired, and today had been a long day of nothing, though this new situation had been a bit… strange. I couldn’t bare keeping myself awake, I felt like something new and hopeful was on the rise, and I was just a day away from finally finding a purpose. I couldn’t keep awake as sleep was upon me in an instant; and so were the men.
I awoke, to see something so beautiful, that I would have teared if I had eyelids. The lake behind the house, the little walking things spoke of playing in the lake they had behind their house, but I’ve never seen it. I had started to remember everything in that instant; children running, a packaging company, one of the little ones calling me “George” for some reason; as a joke, of course. Why were all these memories flooding in? I pondered this as I looked across the lake. I started thinking about a lot of things, like why I was even on the lake’s shore in the first place.
I then decided that it didn’t matter; I was in the perfect position, and I could stay in this spot forever, and I decided that I will. I heard soft and consistent footfalls behind me; someone was approaching.
I saw several other appliances thrown out in front of me, a toaster, a sofa, the TV, and various other random objects from the house. I ignored them, for I was living in a perfect world at this moment, the breeze made me feel comfortable and at ease; I belonged. While I gazed at the sun cascading upon the orange waters below, I silently laugh to myself, I am at peace; and for once I am dictating what follows me in my own short-lived life, yet fantastic life. Some would consider my life soul-rending and torturous, but gazing into the bright orange waters below, with fish casually zipping by each other below.
This is where I am supposed to be, resting here, by the lake—lying in wait for some unseen force to take me to Heaven. I’m sitting here, talking to myself to pass the time; I’m not watching the world go by anymore, it’s watching me go by. For there is no tragedy, and no poetry; I’m just feeling fine, I feel as if my life has a purpose. I could stay the same in sun and shower, I could never see a living soul again, for I was Bliss, and nothing matters anymore mind the sun, lake, and skies.
“I am Bliss…” I thought to myself euphorically. “I am bliss… I am bliss… I am bliss… I am bliss… I am bli-…”
* * *
Connor barked orders to Brad, who grimaced as he had to do all the dirty work. Celeste though, was lazing around by a sofa. Connor sighed, as she was supposed to be on duty guarding the house.
“Oi! Celeste! Get your [edit] over here!” Connor barked, who had then thought about how good it felt to be in charge of something for once.
She sprang up, and laughed, awkwardly. She was used to the good life, and as was Brad; but Connor hadn’t exactly had the greatest of lives.
“Sorry boss!” Celeste bellowed, and proceeded to raising her right hand to her forehead in the form of a salute, sarcastically.
The three survivors had their differences, but they felt oddly comfortable in the backyard of some probably dead strangers home. Celeste picked up a rather large lamp, to move into the ‘junk’ section to be lit on fire, but accidently dropped it before she could make it there.
As she picked up the lamp, she noticed something on the bottom of the lamp’s stand. Something some children probably scrawled on, as a silly joke, or a little quirk, and Celeste laughed, but also felt a little sad, considering those children are all probably dead.
The name “George” was written sloppily on the bottom of the golden lamp.
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