Tag Archives: science fiction

Thought #53. An ill-timed accident.

That morning I had an accident. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t the kind of accident that is usually followed by a thorough investigation. It was a childish and minor one. I wetted myself. It wasn’t out of a need to go to the bathroom but unexpectedly; out of the blue. I found myself red-faced. I could admit the situation was a little funny. I thought there was something odd going on. The fact is that just before the accident, I was completely sure of having been in front of the toilet a few minutes before, ready to shoot, except that I probably wasn’t.

My bewilderment didn’t diminish when I had the second accident in a row. I spilled my coffee. How on earth could an already drunk coffee be spilled? The frontpage of The Guardian, now a hotchpotch of ink smudges and black liquid, was featuring a story about the Iraq war. I was reading it with rapt attention; supposedly, my mug was already in the kitchen sink when coffee was spilled.

I went to the bathroom and arranged my clothes. I jumped into the shower and adjusted the water temperature to my taste. After taking a quick shower, I dried myself with a towel and put my clothes on. Then, I was about to comb my hair when I found myself in front of a mirror with no image of me being reflected. I closed my eyes in a state of shock. I heard the sound of water. Marta, I thought. I set the bath curtain aside, and it was me who was taking the shower. I panicked, it panicked too.

Thought #45. An insomniac mattress.

Animated objects littered the deserted streets. Any living creature would have sensed the rarefield atmosphere that soured that night, but the city was lifeless of proper life. Humankind must accept its fate. A gloomy future, a hopeless existence, the dawn of things had arrived.

An insomniac mattress awakened from its fated death. More than tired, exhausted is how it was feeling. Oppressed by countless sleepless nights trying to please the jaded couple, it could not help but escape. The scenery was beyond recognition. A teapot and a radio soon joined the mattress which was leading an improvised parade.

The white noise delivered by the radio was felt by hundreds of objects as rhythmic beat. Dancing on the streets, making quirky and, at the same time, distinctive sounds, more and more of them stepped in. Beeping, clanking, clicking… a range of metallic dins filled the silence with music.

A symphony under the baton of the mattress whose driving ambition to become a conductor was being fulfilled, once and for all. Books and chairs, pencils and notebooks, baby buggies and bikes, they all gathered around the insomniac mattress, playing unthinkable dissonant chords. An increasing noise, loud and deafening, awful and incessant.

And then silence filled the room. Sweating and gasping for breath, my heart was pounding. It was only a nightmare. A few minutes later I kissed Marta gently and fell asleep for the tenth time that night.