he stepped out of his house; the sky with an orange glow shone down upon him. with bated breath, he waited for a sign. what is this life?
he spent his childhood in an iron lung, mostly, and mostly he couldn’t remember most of it, as redundant as that sentence seems to be.
so he walked down the walk, questions batting around in his mind: what is this life? he asked himself. and to himself he answered: it is.
“it is…” the only thing he could regret at the present time was the feeling that he couldn’t think up a better description; better words.
it was midnight, or somewhere around midnight, he was sure of this much. and so he checked his watch: three in the morning, he thought. why?
where had the time gone? he searched his memory of the evening: nothing out of the ordinary. he had eaten by six; completed a book by nine.
“something is escue.” he said it out loud to himself. there has to be a simple explanation…did he nap without realizing it? or something..
a deep whirling from above changed his viewpoint as he craned his neck to see what made the awful noise.
a spaceship circled and landed.
somewhere in the distance a dog barked. a tree sang. and the man? the man was taken up into the craft without hesitation. and soon, he knew.
tap tap tap. he awoke with a start. oh good, he thought, i’m in my own bed. it must have all been a dream. he went to bathroom and looked…
in the mirror was not his own face, but the face of a much much older man. “they must have taken me! and for years!” he exclaimed.
just then lightning struck. and he was lifted again from life: death surrounded him and so he greeted it. and with not more than a tear.