I missed a short story deadline

I just missed this deadline tonight. Read this and tell me what you think. My thoughts and what I've learned are all below.

Don’t you remember when the trees had more to say than the birds, when the ocean felt as flat as the land beneath your feet now, and the sun…man was she so small and close, just growing up right before our eyes.

Of course you don’t.

No one does.

Thoughts:

I’ve been here for “fifteen years” according to my “parents” and “birth” certificate. I guess, technically they are my parents, and technically time works differently here (as in, it exists), and I actually came from my mom (there’s fascinating…I mean “terrifying” evidence of this). I’ve been living this life as a normal person. A “boy,” if you will. And it hasn’t been too bad. At some point I got used to the way things work here much like a baby from this time does, slow and steady with the feeling of curiosity coursing through my veins. Only I have had to live with experiences they’ll never know of.

Before you ask, of course I’ve tried to explain this to my parents. Of course I’ve tried to tell them what I remember about the time before time itself. Or at least, “this time.” I’m not that far into my science studies to really delve deep into what you all think about linear time and whatnot.

I remember adamantly telling my parents about the sun and how she was only but a spark, not nearly enough to burn a hand. I screamed for hours as a baby because they didn’t have this warmth the world provided me before, only to be handed a bottle.

What did I get in return?

Dr. Wynn. Every Friday at four. So of course I seeked out other people to understand me. I spoke to random people in school only to get milk poured over my head, or laughed at. I’ve even made anonymous posts on sites like Reddit and my other fake social media accounts. And I’ve gotten everything from, “I want what this guy’s on,” to “Don’t let the government see this or you’re in trouble.” I don’t quite know if they know that much, but apparently they would. So, I’d be happy for someone in the white house to just confirm what I know. Yet, no one I’ve come across really knows what I do.

Even the people who talk about “magical trips” and “bad trips” seem to let me down when they go on to talk about what they’ve seen and felt. Like, maybe just maybe they existed with me during those times, but every time I message someone who goes on and on about psychedelics..they end up just going “oh, that sounds like an awesome trip dude.” I never really know what to make of it.

Sometimes I just want out of all of this. I mean sure, I’ve come to love many people and things I’ve never known before like my friend Myra, and skateboarding. But, I want to go home more than anything. Mainly because…I miss something.

See, every once and a while this feeling comes back. This sense of…something the Germans don't even have a long word for. But, we’ll just call it “lonely” for now. Anyway, before I was who I am now, I would feel this way…only with less confusion as to what the heck was going on. And when I felt this way, where my “state of matter” (for lack of a better term, as none

of us really questioned what we are, nor did we have a specific word) would expand and diminish at a speed no one here knows. Faster than supersonic. Faster than

I would seek out communication from another entity. Much like the people do here and now, except not with my phone or face to face contact. All I could do was release that feeling out into “the world” and hope to pick up on something else with this feeling. We’d connect. But, they never stayed. And neither did I. We just felt like we were there for each other. Imagine your loved one who’s nowhere near you now. Close your eyes and feel yourself extending a hand to them, and them reaching out to you, and taking your hand in theirs.

That’s what it felt like. Magical, surreal, like…relief.

I actually ended up hitting it off with something out there. We’d connect when we were “lonely” or “happy,” or whatever else when we could find each other. Usually it was “lonely,” and I always felt grateful for having that thing there. I hoped they felt the same about me.

Nowadays, when I’m lonely I don’t have that. But I do have my friend Myra. She’s always around when I need her, and vice versa. She likes to knock on my window from my balcony and climb in. I like to go through her front door like a normal person. Funny. ‘Cause I’m more of a normal person than she’ll ever be. She’s amazing though. She got me into sci-fi films, and books, and sometimes she writes her own (only no one is allowed to read them). She gets this look in her eyes when she watches a film. Like, she’s somewhere else. And when she reads and sighs deeply, I know to get outta her way because she’s gonna chuck the book across the room. “Not accurate,” she’d say. Then I’ll say, “they aren’t really supposed to be complete.” But, I know that feeling in a different way. Disappointment in their fake reality. So, lately I’ve been just ripping through actual science books and trying to find something that resonates with me.

Here’s the thing though…

My memories are slipping. I noticed when I was about ten and tried to recall how I actually could connect to those I used to connect to, like trying to conjure up that feeling and power again. But, I never could. Then, I noticed I couldn’t remember anything about how any other entity looked around me or certain colors that aren’t here.

That scares me. But, maybe it’s for the best. If I could forget everything, then I could officially move on.

Myra’s lucky she never felt what I felt when I read or watched anything or just how out of place I feel. I mean once, I read this piece of paper she had on her desk and it said, “I could feel infinity while being infinite.” And it hit me right in my heart. And underneath that–in very poor handwriting I might add–were five words: I miss who I felt.

Not “what,” but “who.” I wondered if she meant to write that but before I could think too much about it, I could hear her coming back to the room and I was jumping on the bed to avoid her anger. I’ve been caught trying to read her stuff before and was promptly escorted out.

Right now as I sit looking up at the glowing stickable stars on my wall, I’m thinking of what she wrote and trying my best to not let this feeling of loneliness engulf me.

“Dude, open up.” I hear a knock on my window.

I jump since I’m easily startled…don’t laugh.

“Hurry up,” she groans underneath the mittens she has brought up to her face. “Give me some time, yeesh.” I get up and walk over to the window. I smile at her. “You wanna come in?” I can feel the winter’s unkind cold through the window. She must be freezing her petunias off. “Ask nicely. This is my sanctuary. Not everyone’s allowed in here.”

“No one else wanna be in there. Now open up.”

She got me there.

I open the window and let her in.

“It’s freezing out there.”

“No kidding.”

She tries to hit me and I back up. “Pop a squat pipsqueak.” I laugh.

“You’re a jerk.”

“So why are you here?” I meant to say, “I’m glad you’re here.” Trust me.

“You need me here.”

I pause.

“Yeah…I did. You’re always here when I need you.”

“Well, you’re always here when I need you too. It’s just tonight, I felt you and…I feel what you feel, so I came.”

The thing I’ve missed most from what I once knew was the ability to find something that felt how I felt. Something that was there for me. Something that remembers me. I’ve been trying to find that feeling. Find that something.

And now,

I realize I never lost any of that.

Thoughts/feelings

Ok, there's that. The first part of the first line "Do you remember" was apart of the prompt from Reedsy because it was supposed to be submitted to the Reedsy contest that closed almost an hour ago. I was almoooost there. But, I guess I forgot about the time and just didn't type as I usually would if I knew I had a deadline. Missing a deadline I'm actually dedicated to, and not one I'm more like "meh, if I submit that'd be cool. But if not...that'd also be cool," is pretty rare for me. So, I'm a bit diasppointed since the contest was also for money and the chance to say I won a writing competition. Do I think it would've been good enough to win? I dunno. This brings me to my next topic:

Writing outside my comfort zone, or at least outside of my norm.

I never add sci-fi elements to my writing, or at least not anything I remember/ is recent. It wasn't even much. Just a loose idea I tried to expand on as I wrote. I don't know how I feel about it in all. But, I do know I had fun finishing it even though I noticed I was out of time when I got to the end. I just kept writing and then edited a tiny bit...it's probably nowhere near clean but I refuse to reread it. It's done. Now it exists here.

What I've learned:

I kinda wanna get more into this genre and try to get better at it. I don't even know if it's actually science fiction really. Probably not. You be the judge. I don't mind either way. It was nice to finally finish a short after a while of only writing articles about guitars and shows and stuff...

You thought I'd say I learned to not procrastinate or something? Nah. I love the smell of fresh tears on my keyboard and the adrenaline a very close deadline gives me.

Thanks. Peace.