Night Watch
By andrewgale
- 296 reads
Night Watch
align="justify">Joe looks out of
the window and feels completely empty, alone and very dejected. He sees
the rain running down the windowpane. It reminded him of tears of
despair, tears of frustration. The window had been crying all night.
The room seemed to be getting bigger and bigger that night, or had Joe
been getting smaller and smaller. He felt completely empty of life and
hope. He was lost in a desert of despair where broken promises and dead
dreams littered the landscape, he had a sharp thirst for recognition of
his pathetic existence, and a longing for companionship.
The steam from
his cup of tea kept catching his eye. It slowly sent him into a dream
of the past, of warm dry summer days. He could feel the joy running
through his veins as he remembered his past dreams and old hopes. He
could feel himself being warmed from deep inside himself, as the
emptiness was temporally filled.
He once had a
dream of travelling around the world, a dream of meeting interesting
people, meeting new lovers, making lots of money. All these separate
dreams combining to make one big dream of hope. He was brought out of
his wonderland by the cruel wind and rain rattling the windows to
remind him where he truly was. He was just staring at the cold wet
windowpane. He could see the dim blurred lights from out-side. He felt
even more isolated and alone he felt the cold rush of reality run
through his veins.
Thoughts of how long it had been since he had seen the sun the proper
sunlight, not the grey break of dawn, but the real bright warm sunlight
of day on his face. Thoughts of how he had worked in this bloody
factory come stores, for 27 long dark lonely years. All that was
different from one night to the other was evidence of equipment and
boxes that had been moved about by the workers during the
day.
Like a detective Joe could work
out what the day shift had been doing. &;quot;At least they left
some evidence of their existence,&;quot; he thought, he knew they
had been there. &;quot;But they did not even know I exist, they did
not have a clue that I've been working here for over 27 years in this
dark every night. What for, just in case somebody might break
in.&;quot; The thought of somebody breaking in excited Joe, somebody
to shout at, someone who knew he actually existed, it would have been
pure pleasure to Joe. But the silence seemed to close even heavier
around him, especially after the pleasant thoughts.
The place had
nothing not even a ghost or a soul, it had nothing and nothing seemed
like hell to Joe. But this was Joe's whole life and existence. He sat
alone in his office, surrounded by the enormous workshop in total
darkness. The great black hole of oblivion out side his door, it scared
Joe, the nothing on the other side of the door.
In his mind he
could see the little door being smashed down by the weight of the great
black nothing on the other side. He knew then he could not go on, he
knew he'd had all he could take, he also knew there could not be any
other nights alone. In his pure despair he felt strangely calm, he saw
himself as someone else in the same room would have seen Joe. He saw
himself opening the door to the dark cavern of despair, He saw himself
calmly climb onto a workbench and putting the tackle and rope around
his neck, and very gently pushing himself out into the dark oblivion of
nothing.
be some evidence of Joe, the night watchman. align="justify"> align="justify"> align="justify"> align="justify"> align="justify"> align="justify"> align="justify">
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