Gender

Male

Location

Drexel Hill, PA

About Me:

If I had to guess, I'd say it was around mid-day. It's warm but I don't mind. There's no wind. Actually there's no sound at all. I can't even hear the sound of my foot steps. Do I find this odd, the lack of sound? No, for some reason this seems natural, almost expected. The thought never enters my mind that I might be deaf. My shadow does it's best to imitate a living thing, as it springs over the beige ground. Now this I do find odd. Not the shadow mind you, but the color of the ground. Dirt is dark brown and comes in a variety of textures, but is always identifiable as dirt. Sand on the other hand is beige and powder like, and tends to make walking long distances a bit of a chore. This stuff is beige and packed hard enough not to kick up dust, but soft enough not to make a sound as I walk. Mildly interesting for about five seconds. Now the sun is behind me as I walk. This is neither good or bad as the terrain is flat and featureless. Even the sky is close to featureless with only a few wisps of clouds to mar this perfect void. I look behind me, nothing but beige and blueish-beige. Where am I going? Where did I come from? I look forward and find more of the same. Dull, featureless and it seems, never ending. My clothes and shoes are dull and forgettable. I know I have on clothes and shoes but couldn't tell you color nor style. They would appear to be comfortable and suitable to the climate of my reality. I look down again, trying to remember where it is I'm going, or for that matter who I am. Funny how time distorts when you are preoccupied. I look up and... There are houses to the left and right of me. As I stop, frozen to this spot, I'm standing in the middle of a car-less street of row homes. I look behind me to the comfort of the featureless desert, and then forward to a block where I know nothing about the dwellers in these homes. Rundown doesn't even begin to describe the condition of this block. Planks are nailed across the inside of the windows, the panes of glass long gone. Paint has dried and flaked away long ago leaving bare wood shriveled and warped. Trash and debris clog the front porches. As I ease cautiously down the street, beady little glowing eyes peer from the darkness between the planks. Way too many eyes. This really unnerves me because the eyes of people don't reflect light the way a cat's eyes would. It's enough to make me wake up, and sit up in bed. Herb Briley, at age 3

Relationship Status:

Married

Your Occupation

Computer artist

Website 1:

https://www.eclecticmedia.biz