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Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
StrictlyúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúBy James Hetfield
úúúúúúúúúTextúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúú"Reflections: Part Three"úúúúúúúúúúú
úúúúúúúúúúúúúúDistributionúúIssue Eighteenúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúú
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease
_11_
I had that dry starch taste in my mouth when I woke up again
this morning. I tried gargleing last night with Listerine to avoid it,
but no matter what I do it is still there.
I was out of gel toothpaste, so I had to use the baking soda
type. My mouth was gritty for hours.
The morning air was warm and humid. You can tell when it will
storm these days if you see insects out or not. There weren't any this
morning, so I knew it was going to be a rainy day.
It took too long for the water in the shower to warm up. I was
shivering for at least five minutes. But the Irish Spring was extra
smooth, so I had nothing to complain about.
The dog was hyper this morning, so I put him on his leash
and brought him outside with me. The sky had a shade of green in it.
I was still waking up when I realized I had walked out to
Sullivan Street. I was a few blocks away from her house. The dog looked
tired, but I decided to go there anyway and see what she was doing.
Her van wasn't in her driveway, so I assumed she wouldn't be home.
I walked to the pond in back of her house, and sat down, throwing stones
out into the water. I always was amazed at how a well-thrown stone with
a good enough arch can send water flying so far up into the air. And the
water is usually in a form of a drop, a tear that is upside down. I took
a big handful of little stones and made the pond cry over and over again.
"What are you doing?", a voice yelled out at me. I turned around
to find her mother on the back porch, looking at me. I walked up to her
and told her that I was looking for Monica. She gave me a look.
"Monica isn't here. She hasn't been here for days. I ... I don't
know where she is." She started into the house, but paused and looked
at me again. "If you find out where she is... please tell me." She said,
and went inside.
The dog almost followed her inside the door, but I yanked on his
leash and made sure he stayed out here.
I took the long way home. I stopped at a water pump in a forest
preserve because the dog looked very thirsty. By the time I got home,
I was thirsty too, so I got myself a glass of iced tea.
I kicked around the papers on my floor and sat next to the window,
watching the wind make the evergreens sway. I must have dozed off, becuase
when I woke up my mother was offering me food. I said I wasn't hungry,
and she left me by myself. I got myself some more iced tea, turned on
the radio, and sat down again. I opened the window, but the air from outside
was too stuffy, so I closed it. I paced around a little, but all I learned
from that is how small my room is and that there are too many commericals
on the radio. I turned it off. I laid down on my bed, looked out the window
for a little while longer, and fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was pitch black in my room. The rain was
trickling down outside. My mouth tasted too sweet and dry. I drank some
water from the sink in the bathroom. I opened the back door and looked
outside.
The rain was falling lightly, not making too much clammer about
itself. I walked outside and liked how warm the water was. Without
worrying about warning my parents where I was, I walked away, closing
the door behind me.
I checked my pockets, and I had no money. I wanted to get some
chocolate candies, but my wallet must have been in my other blue jeans.
I turned around to go back inside, but in the corner of my eye I caught
a glimse of something. There was a person in a long black wool coat
standing under a streetlamp across the intersection. I called out her
name, but she didn't answer. I walked up to her, but when she turned
around to see me, it wasn't her at all, it was some ragged blonde guy
with a goatee. He offered me marijuana for a cheap price. I turned
him down. He said it'll be the time of my life. I said no thanks. I
backed away from him, and found my way to my back door.
The door was locked, and I had left my key inside. I sat down
on the chair in the corner of the back patio. The padding made the
same noise a sponge makes when you squeese it as I sat down. My legs
were cold and very wet. I sat, letting the water drip on my head from
the shingles above me. My eyelids closed loosely, and I drifted away.
The last thing I remembered about that night was the constant sound of
rain coming down onto the ground.
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[úúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúReflections: Part Threeúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúú]
[úúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúBy James Hetfieldúúúúúúúúúúúúú]
[úúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúú05/14/95úú]
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