A Picture a Day, Keeps the Something Something

One Picture, One Story



The sun shown in through the window, piercing the ancient dust that inhabited the space between the panes. Chris sat still, basking in the warmth that filled the small room as he drank his tea and dreamed about his youth and the many things he once enjoyed. The pain in his knees was far more persistent these days and his head aches were staying longer and coming more often. He flipped through an old magazine, staring but not looking at the pages as they slipped by. His life was nothing like it was supposed to be and so much of it was in direct conflict with what he once believed. Nothing made sense and he had given up trying to make fact fit with his fantastical ideals. Chris placed the magazine down next to his tea and stared out the century old window at the bright meadow, loosely dotted with an occasional tree with a deer feeding in the distance. He had given up the unnecessary stress of the non-stop business of city life and settled into the tiny, 2 room house out in the middle of nowhere to figure out what it was that he was living for. He never had many friends and those that he had were never that close. He never seemed to have time for meaningful human interaction as he tried to pay for all his stuff.

Chris was disillusioned with the beliefs of his childhood and he struggled daily to figure out what it was that he did believe. He often talked softly to himself as he sat in the meadow. He would debate the complexities of what it was that motivated him and what it was that would define him moving forward. He would ask questions that he didn’t necessarily expect an answer to, as he had began to realize that the pondering was what held the real wisdom. He had spent so much of his life blindly following what he was told that when he finally questioned what any of it really meant. He wasted so much living chasing a lifestyle that was created to make others wealthy and keep him from thinking. What time does a man have to ponder what injustices are committed everyday when entertainment and the pursuit of money, or what some call “happiness”, fill his mind. If we are kept busy, we are not thinking and Chris was tired of not thinking. He could still feel the rush he had in school when a new concept suddenly made sense and he missed it dearly. He replaced his tv with books like Plato’s Republic and spent his days thinking and conducting thought experiments, following the logic until he could understand another small part of the problem of life. Chris squinted as he peered through the window, watching some birds fluttering about and noticing that a second deer had joined the other on the far side of the meadow. He smiled, suddenly realizing that he had realized happiness and it was simple and quiet and consisted of nothing more than thought and nature. Life consisted of harmony and disappeared with discord; alive with love and dead with hatred. He was done casting the first stone while ignoring the deceit that he was spreading. He lay back in the grass, at peace with leaving those lies behind.


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This entry was posted on March 7, 2014 by in Short Story and tagged , , .
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