Porch Collapse

PERCEPTION: A cold object knocks against the back of your skull. Based on the size as well as the smell of a burning match cord, it is probably an old matchlock musket; utterly antiquated when compared to your vastly more reliable and user-friendly flintlock.

SHIVERS: You lean against the cold railing of your balcony. At this moment in time, you are the motel's only guest. A frigid morning breeze caresses your bare arms as you gaze intensely towards the coast.

VOLITION: Looks like your first full night of quality sleep in a long time. No inner turmoil, no nightmares; you were actually at peace. Whatever you did differently yesterday, keep doing it. It clearly helped.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Look at him. So drugged out of his mind that he can barely even perceive you standing three feet away from him.

RHETORIC: He's alive. So he is, in a sense, getting away with it. Not for long though.

INLAND EMPIRE: As you stare into the distance, your eyes lose focus; the world in front of you blurs and before you know it, you are somewhere else. Something else. No longer a man, but a colossus of iron and unfathomable technology that may as well be magic. You tower above the landscape around you. Yet before you can take any of it in, something hits you. An apocalyptic shockwave reverberates through you, right to your core, and drops you to your knees. Then, darkness.

DRAMA: Look at him over there. Standing on his soapbox and exclaiming his virtues to the people. Some of them are even taken in by it; he's coming across extremely charismatic and well travelled. They have no reason to doubt him. In fact, they want to believe him. But you are not convinced so easily. You can see through it all. You know better. He is a fraud.

SHIVERS: 2 miles away, in a partially burned down home, a middle-aged man strikes his wife of 30 years for the first time. He always said he was never that kind of guy; that it was a line he would never cross. Several blocks from you, in a fast food restaurant, a teenager cuts in before his girlfriend can speak so that he can order for her. Even closer still, 4 doors down from you, a young lady has reached her breaking point and leaves her fiancé. He grabbed her arm just a little too hard this time.

REACTION SPEED: In the distance, you capture a few sporadic words emanating from the public announcement loudspeakers. All you are able to make out are the words "conscription" and "former service personnel".

PAIN THRESHOLD: Is it worse than it used to be? Of course it is. It used to be that your hands would only hurt in the cold; now it's most of the time. This is all to be expected as you get old. Nothing to be ashamed of.

LOGIC: You know that what you are doing makes no sense. Welding small patches of aluminium over rust holes will not fix the problem. The rust will still persist and spread until your car falls apart around you.

PERCEPTION: Your nostrils fill with the scent of her camellia and sweet pea perfume. Her embrace is warm and genuine.

VOLITION: You swore to yourself that there would be no more pills. Not for any reason; no matter how strong or weak they are. Yet here you are again.

COMPOSURE: Another nightmare. They've become infrequent lately that you managed to break into a cold sweat and your heart rate spiked. Just like a normal person would. You know what to do. Deep breaths, maybe a cigarette by the window and then lay your head back down and sleep.

PERCEPTION: As you look out towards the horizon, the darkness of the night sky gradually gives way to a vivid orange; sunrise. It's been a long time since you've been awake for one of these.