Weekly Finalist: Untitled by Jason Bloom
I’m in California.
More information isn’t forthcoming. As usual I haven’t a clue when it happened. I awoke a few minutes ago, disoriented in the gully of a small highway with a commanding view of the contents of my stomach, that god-awful buzz still hammering at my skull. I feel nearly on the verge of being overwhelmed by it, this brain-pounding sickness that leaves less and less room for my humanity. I’ve been cramming notes into the margins of an old bus schedule, the only object (besides my clothes thankfully) that makes the jump each time, lest I forget where I’ve been.
What stupid, foolhardy bravado! To think I could control the process. I chortle occasionally at the arrogance. Had you tried to stop me I wouldn’t have listened. It was all propaganda anyway, a violent mix of lies and foolish ambition that I let dictate my undoing. My fetters were fixed the moment I stopped listening to reason. What a miserable wretch I’ve become! All I ask is a segue, a break in the cycle, a return to normalcy. Not yours to grant, I suppose.
You know me, Mary. I’m mostly sure that was your name. I wouldn’t rant like this if I felt a measure of my senses, if I could imbue even one solitary moment with a sense of control. The cacophony in my head has subsided a bit. I suppose that’s a blessing. I should take advantage of this break to cram a passable meal down my esophagus, and cajole my stomach into accepting it as a replacement for what I deposited by the side of the road…strange, there’s a man over in an adjacent parking lot staring.
Damnit. I’ve got nothing to vomit this time. And I’m no longer in California.
