(This is fiction. It’s not about me. Enjoy~)
Not existing, that’s what scares me the most. Have you ever been lying on your bed, looking at the ceiling, thinking about the day and suddenly, like a flash of lightning, you wake up? You had fallen asleep at some point, as quickly and painlessly as someone pressing pause on a DVD player. That’s what I fear the most, that instant when existence ends. What scares me the most is that I won’t even know when it happens.
I live in the present. Obviously, you say, but most people—I suspect—have a sense of where they come from and where they are going. Not me. For me, all of life is a precarious balancing on the crest of a wave—a breathless, headlong rush with an abyss of nothing before and behind. That’s why I worry about my existence. At any moment, the wave could collapse and then, well . . .
I live in an apartment building, on the third floor. I don’t know who lives above me. Below me is Miss Second. She mostly stays in her apartment, moaning loudly enough for me to hear as I walk past her. I can’t tell if it’s from ecstasy or from pain, but I’m too embarrassed to knock and ask. And so, I tiptoe past her apartment, vaguely aroused, vaguely repelled, unsure of myself on her floor.
Below her is Mr. First, the drummer. He is constantly making rhythm with everything in his apartment. The sounds filter up through the pipes, sometimes grating, sometimes hypnotic, sometimes so beautiful I want cry for something I have never seen or felt, but which is hinted at in the music.
Then, there is Mr. Under, who lives in the basement. I never go down to see him and he never comes up, but from the crack in the basement door, I hear and smell things that hint at the horrors that go on down there, down under the building.
I feel bored, I wander the halls, afraid to knock on doors, too lonely to go sit in my apartment. I am drawn to the door of Mr. Under. Who does he have down there? I know them, don’t I? It sickens me, but still, I want to know.
The shrieks and screams rise as I approach. I peer through the crack in the door and in one mind-searing instant, I see what he is doing. I am repulsed and I flee up to my room. But I only live in the present and even as I do, I am still peering through that crack, into the heart of evil; still tiptoeing awkwardly past the door of Miss Second; still standing mesmerized by the beauty of Mr. First’s drumming, with tears streaming down my face.
The sun is rising. The first rays stab into my apartment and I look out, out of my small corner of the universe into something so much vaster, where all the answers are revealed. I take a step—
The Green-Walled Tower 
November 14th, 2012 at 7:19 pm
very interesting one david, looking back at oneself at various stages?
November 14th, 2012 at 7:34 pm
No, it’s actually supposed to be written from the point of view of a person in a dream. That’s why it ends like that–the person suddenly wakes up.
November 14th, 2012 at 7:50 pm
okay, i thought that a person dreaming about his own various stages in life…
November 14th, 2012 at 7:39 pm
Loved this, David…. I’m glad though, you prefaced it by mentioning it is fiction! I may have had quite a different reaction altogether….!
November 14th, 2012 at 8:14 pm
Yeah, I was just about to post it when I realized that I had been posting a lot of non-fiction lately and people may not be able to read my mind. 🙂
November 14th, 2012 at 8:16 pm
Good thinking. We may have been a little worried for you… 😉
November 15th, 2012 at 3:44 pm
are you facing any problem in uploading jpg files or is wordpress malfunctioning a bit too much since sunday?
November 15th, 2012 at 3:54 pm
I haven’t had any trouble. Have you? It might be just some of their servers having trouble, or being down for maintenance.
November 15th, 2012 at 3:56 pm
yes since last night its trying to act like a nightmare, crashing every alternate second and refusing to upload jpg files. now in my case its a real bother!
November 15th, 2012 at 3:59 pm
I hope it gets fixed soon. I hate it when technology doesn’t work right, especially when there’s nothing we can do to fix it.
November 16th, 2012 at 12:06 am
very much enjoyed this one. well done.
November 16th, 2012 at 12:13 am
Thank you, I’m glad. I kind of wonder if people understood it how I intended it, but I guess everyone can take it differently.
November 16th, 2012 at 12:40 am
I think that’s the most difficult balance to strike as a writer. I’m constantly teetering back and forth on it – that edge between giving away too much or “overexplaining” and leaving things open to interpretation. I think you hit it about right.
November 16th, 2012 at 2:03 pm
I appreciate that. Sometimes as a writer, I think I put in all the right clues, but then find out people interpreted them totally differently. That’s life, I guess.