Notes From an Amateur Writer #20 - Life Is Like a Box of Crazy

Typewriter

This is day 28 for me (I started 1 day late) in @dragosroua's 30 day writing challenge.

1. Shopping With Zombies

I was at the supermarket. So were many other people. I only wanted a few things and I would be on my way. A shopping hit and run, so to speak. My local supermarket is a small place. Too small for the numbers of people that go there. Trying to navigate through the shop is quite an ordeal. I think some people who go there consider blocking the aisle a right of passage. Just as others relish the opportunity to hunt me down with their trolley. To physically accost my ankles.

I try to make eye contact with people. I think this is friendly behaviour. So as to better navigate the obstacle course that exists all around me. Around us all. But I've come to learn that zombies don't make eye contact. I have also come to learn that most of the zombies shop at my local supermarket.

The apocalypse has begun, it would seem.

2. A Bus Ride to Crazy Town

I took the bus to the beach again. The sun was out and I wanted to go for a walk and allow stories to grow in my thinking spaces. Stories tend to grow well in the sun. And when I am out walking, and not just cooped up at home hiding from the zombies.

A man sat down in the seat in front of me. It was a mostly empty bus, but he gravitated to my space. It happens. He started talking to himself. He made what sounded like farting noises when a couple got off the bus. Or perhaps they both had very squeaky shoes? His head was twitching and jerking. But he was not causing any harm, so I just watched the show and let him get on with it.

The bus arrived at a busy section. Start and stop, constantly. There was quite a bit of this for a 5 minute stretch. This seemed to bring out the crazy in him.

"Red lights," he said, to no one in particular. "Too many red lights. I could walk quicker." His head twitched. It twitched some more. "I could get out and walk quicker. Too many red lights."

He wasn't wrong. There were too many red lights. But none more than usual. I laughed quietly to myself. It was slightly amusing, but I also wondered why I attract these sort of people on public transport? Or perhaps every one does? I was being harsh, I know. He was far from crazy. In fact about the only thing he was doing out of the ordinary was talking to himself out loud in public. And that was the cardinal rule he was breaking.

I talk to myself out loud I reminded myself. When I think no one is around. When I think no one can hear me. Sometimes I like it better than the internal thought stream. So how many degrees of crazy separate me from my follow traveller?

"Crazy people," I said. "There's too many crazy people on this bus." My head twitched. It twitched some more.

"You're telling me," he said. "We should get out and walk."

3. It's All too Perfect

I arrived at the beach. Started my 2 hour long meditative saunter along the promenade. It refreshes and restores me. It makes me feel less crazy. For a short time, anyway. The crazy always returns. Maybe its hardwired in.

The sun was shining, and the water was perfectly calm. I took in a deep breath of salt air. Was evolution coming full circle? Was this my way of trying to return to source? To get back to my roots? Or were these all just questions that crazy people ask?

I looked out at the breakwater, with the boats sitting still in the water. Such a picture perfect scene. Almost too perfect. What secrets lie within this picture? What truth lurk beneath the depths? Was this scene hiding a SciFi drama or mystery, where the boats were actually alien crafts waiting for the most opportune moment to reveal themselves? Were the people coming towards me actually assassins sent to monitor and nullify the alien secret invasion? And what of the girl sleeping on the sea wall? Was she really sleeping? Her eyes were covered by dark glasses. An ideal disguise for hiding her true intent. It's all too perfect I reminded myself. Nothing is this perfect.

I wondered if aliens experience mental insanity. Has there ever been a crazy alien? Or is that a purely human experience? Or was the approaching zombie apocalypse making me paranoid? More so than usual? My head started twitching. I tried to make it stop. I didn't want the aliens noticing me.

4. Stranger Danger

I kept walking. I passed many people and large numbers of them had dogs with them. I tried making eye contact with the people, but I forgot that zombies don't make eye contact. So I tried making eye contact with their dogs. Dogs always make eye contact.

"Hello," I said to one of the dogs that I passed.

"Hello," he replied. "Sorry I can't stay and chat but my owner is in a hurry."

"Oh really, where are you going?"

"Nowhere. She is always in a hurry to go nowhere. I think it's a human thing."

"No, I think it's a zombie thing," I tell him.

"So tell me, why are talking to a dog?" he asked me.

"Because I'm crazy," I said as his owner dragged him away muttering something about stranger danger.

5. The Zombies Are Lonely

"Would you like some love?" What a peculiar question. Who would ask me such a thing out here in the wilds of strangerdom?

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I turned to see a woman, younger than me staring at some birds near by.

"I said have you seen my Dove?"

"Those are Pidgeons," I said correcting her. "I thought you were offering me some love. I wasn't sure if it was a euphimism."

She looked at the Pidgeons, then back at me. "Are you sure they're not Doves?"

"Yes."

An awkward silence drifted in between the two of us. "So do you want some love then?" she asked tentatively.

"No."

"I'm lonely," she told me.

"Aren't we all," I said.

"Well at least I'm not crazy." She had a point.

6. I See Crazy People

I sat and thought about my stories. About the people in my stories. I think they are all a little bit crazy. In their own way. Seems I write about crazy people, except they don't know they're crazy. They don't know they are actually aspects of me. I won't tell them if you don't.

7. The Not-So-Missing Cat

When I was around the corner from my house a cat came up to say hello. I had seen this cat once before. He's very friendly. I knelt down and started to scratch him behind the ears. I remembered the cat story from yesterday. About the missing cat. I wondered if that was him. But it couldn't have been. He was too out in the open for someone that had gone missing.

I gave him lots of scratches. I pulled my hand away but he grabbed it back and requested more. I wanted to stay. I really liked this cat, but I had to keep moving.

"Don't go," the cat said.

"I have to," I replied.

"We can be friends," he told me. That was nice. I would like that, but then I remembered something.

"I was a cat for a day yesterday," I told him. "I didn't buy the deluxe package so my time ran out. Next time I try the cat for a day service then I will hang out with you."

"You promise?"

I gave him a little scratch behind the ears and he gave my finger a little nibble. We had an agreement.

All images used with permission, and sourced from Unsplash.com.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you liked it then please like, comment, and follow

@naquoya

Short Fiction:

Bang Bang You're Dead
I Have No Name and I Must Scream
The Last Book Store
The Judge
The Man In The Mirror
The End of the World [Part 1] [Part 2]
The Locked Room
The Gods of Love and War [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Notes From an Amateur Writer blog series: