Reply To: Cakletown and the Lone Chancers of Custard

Forums Yurara Fameliki’s Stories Cakletown and the Lone Chancers of Custard Reply To: Cakletown and the Lone Chancers of Custard

#3814
EricEric
Keymaster

    A raucous explosion of laughter cackled in the neighbourhood, waking up Bea from her afternoon siesta.
    SHUT UP!” she bawled covering her ears with a cushion, and looked desperately at something she could throw at the window. Alas, save for a manikin’s leg that looked like she owned a pegleg, and a piece of half-eaten banana, there was nothing she could find.

    She resigned herself to waking up, and pried open her little wrinkled eyes in the late afternoon purple light.

    Every time she woke up, she had to reacquaint herself with her reality. Not that she was such a junkie on computer duster, as that rat had rudely implied, it wasn’t only that.
    A few months before, she had an epiphany. Many years of meditation, guided, in groups, alone, with zen masters and copious reading had amounted to nothing but the occasional nice fluffy feeling. It was when she had decided to drop it all of sheer frustration, and burn all the stupid self-help books that something had chanced upon herself.
    She’d lost her ego. Poof, disappeared, like that.

    Before that, she was completely adverse to endings, and to any form of deleting.
    But now, she understood the words she’d read many years ago that had infuriated her profoundly at the time : “Everything must be scrutinised and the unnecessary ruthlessly destroyed. Believe me, there cannot be too much destruction. For, in reality, nothing is of value.”

    She was. And every waking up was a wake up to her eternal self.
    So obviously, the external appearances left a bit to be desired, now that desire was not. Continuity was never there in the first place.

    But to live, she had to find again what new reality she had just awoken to, as she did every morning, and after every siesta.
    Truth is, she kind of liked it, the non-continuity of it. Before, she would have gloated to whoever that name of an old friend of hers, that she was right about it, the unnecessary of that continuity babble. Now there was no need of it.

    A loud cackle outside stirred her back to reality.