Jack woke suddenly, it was 3 AM, another early start to his slow life. He wished sleep could still hold him in its warm, comforting embrace. Dragging himself out of bed, he let the sickly sap of apathy to life he was used to wash back over him, each step a stumble as he found himself in the bathroom. The mirror stared back at him, disappointingly, as if it had anything to say, eyes hiding behind deepened circles, begging for sleep. With a sigh, he turned, heading to his room, and sitting at his computer, in his beat up chair.
The glow of the monitor in the dim room illuminated most of his disheveled room, the clothes strewn about, both dirty and clean minced, on the floor, his bed, and even some on the chair he sat in. The hamper he used long since broke, though still he uses it. To his right, he reached for his water bottle, a red vacuum sealed metal thermos with a plastic screw top he’d used for what now felt like most of his life. Lifting it, he found himself disappointed. Empty, he lifted himself from his chair, carelessly stepping onto the wooden floor as it creaked and groaned under his step.
Opening the fridge, he found himself disappointed again, grabbing the empty water pitcher, he moved to the sink, filled with dirty dishes, ignoring that, he placed the pitcher under the tap, filling the small reservoir at the tip with unfiltered water, as he stood there, watching the slightly warm, metallic tasting water become slightly more tasteless water. After a good 45 seconds, he filled it again, waiting still before filling his water bottle half way, then grabbing a few ice cubes he had to cram through the mouth of the bottle.
Sealing it, he walked back to his room in the dim unlit hallway, shaking the metal thermos rhythmically. Sitting down again, he stared at the screen, as it did the same to him through a nearly invisible reflection. Scrolling up and down the list of manga and light novels, had he not marked nearly 450 of the 900 he kept tabs on as “reading” he might have found one of the few he actively read every release. But still he struggled, as this was one of his few escapes from reality, So many things had lost their charm and luster over the years, but even if it was a dull one, he so desperately clung to it in his room.
Leaning back in his chair, he tilted his head, finding himself listlessly gazing at the featureless ceiling. He had so thoroughly picked through his reading list yesterday, only a few he liked had releases today, but he had already read through them just as fast as he saw them, though it was only 6 AM at this point, most of what he read usually had new chapters later in the day anyway. Something about reader retention he didn’t care much for as he drifted into his thoughts.
His thoughts drifted into daydreams, Though, through his mind’s eye, he was nearly blind to everything, something long ago had taken his ability to see what he thought of. Though he hated the sightless, something else had taken its place. Rather seeing the world of imagination through his eyes, other information would find its way, taking the place of his mind’s sight. Of him standing atop a mountain, the crisp wind flicking at his face, breathing air fresher than anything he had ever experienced, the slight lightheaded feeling from the thinner atmosphere almost euphoric to his usual altitude. The sound of the light layering of snow crunching beneath his feet as he began to shiver from the cold.
Next, he felt the warmth of books beside him, of this deeper, primordial power coursing through his veins, in a study of magic. One of his recurring daydreams he had taken a fancy to. Deep within a mountain, in a room that smelled more like old books than reasonable, he busied himself with fantastical thinking. At this moment, he was some eccentric mage who had hidden himself from the world, trying to recreate the technology from the world he lived in.
Or another, finding himself as some master of intrigue, guiding nobles, kings, and peasants alike to his every whim, a firm grasp on the reigns in some medieval world. But no daydream was quite satisfying enough, nothing scratched that deeper itch, no matter how gratifying or power indulgent he let his daydreams become. Only one, but to call it a daydream at this point was a fool's errand, it had dominated his mindscape so many times, and was one of the few things he could genuinely see when he had thought about it. But, often even when he tried, it didn’t come, almost as if his own mind taunted him with his deepest fantasy.
Suddenly, his vision filled, not with the light of the monitor, or the scene of the ceiling he had been staring at for the past hour and a half. But Jack never really cared for the passing of the time anyway. Instead, his vision filled with what he had been waiting for, something that had kept him going for a while now, he looked down, and found his fantasy. He had, for however brief this vision would stay with him, become a dragon, he knew this wasn’t an uncommon desire among others, but he refused to indulge in this fantasy in any physical manor. But this was something he didn’t mind, this was one of the few things in his life he knew kept him happy. Pretending this little vision was his reality.
As if knowing it would be short lived would ever help him, Jack found himself ripped from his fantasy, a jolting experience every time. One he hated as much as waking up every day. Dropping his head back down, he looked at the clock. 10:30 AM, something that had always baffled him was that for what only felt like half an hour to him had stretched out so long, even if he wasn’t to take into account every daydream, most he had ever heard was that time dilated the other way, that often when dreaming hours in the real world could stretch into days, or even weeks of time.
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Getting up from his chair once again, he finally found the time to take a shower, though as if time wasn’t already spilling out of his pocket, he rarely gave it any thought. The warm water sprung forward, onto the back of his head, and shoulders as he lathered himself with soap, before he sat down in the tub. Again drifting off into something or other, letting himself be distracted with his thoughts as the water washed down his body, and flowed into the drain. The yellow light of the bathroom light fixture slipping by the edges of the curtain, and falling over, and flowing down the top dimly, as he sat, slightly hunched, with his head tilted to the side.
Shutting off the shower, he lingered for a moment, before opening the curtain, or standing, he tried to soak in whatever warmth hung in the air. Standing up, ever so slightly too fast, his vision briefly became static for barely even a split second as he balanced himself, recovering from being lightheaded. Opening the curtain, he looked to the door he had left open, then, as he stood there he could feel his stupidity, as the cold air rushed over his soaked body as he reached for the towel.
Drying himself off, he stepped out of the shower, his foot caught the edge of the tub, he tried to adjust his footing, but the floor kept coming at him. In the blink, he had fallen over. When he came to, there was more than a bit of blood on the white tile. Most of it had dried out, and his head was sore. Standing up slowly, bracing himself on the sink he looked at his face, there was a sizable gash right above his right eyebrow that had started to scab, and wasn’t bleeding so much, nearly matching the scar he had just above his left.
He ran the tap, washing off most of the blood that had dried on his face. He didn’t care much for the dried blood on the floor, but he wasn’t really a fan of the smell. To his left, he leaned down, opening the small cupboard by the door below the counter, grabbing a bandage, and some ointment. Looking into the mirror again, he wasn’t too dissatisfied with the job he did bandaging his newest injury, but he was pretty confident it would leave quite a scar when it healed.
Dragging himself to his room, he felt light headed, he lightly clung to the dirty clothes he went to the bathroom with, tossing them at the hamper with no deftness. He turned to his right, looking at the mess of clothes, he didn’t even bother looking through them, he just grabbed the first outfit his hands could reach, and threw them on.
As he sat down, an odd feeling struck him, but before he could finish the thought, another more pressing matter concerned him, "where’d the chair go?" He thought he’d positioned himself correctly, but that’s much less a concern when he realized he should have hit the floor by now. He hadn’t even realized his vision had gone dark. Right now, all he could feel was this eerie sensation, as he continued to fall.
Finally, his vision had slowly begun to clear, he was still falling, tumbling in the wind as he did so. As his vision finally focused, he could see clouds, in fact that’s all he could see, in every direction, where puffs of clouds dotting ever direction, some nonsensical, the light seemingly casting shadow in contradictory directions throughout the clouds.
Jack looked around, and yet, as he tried he couldn’t see any ground, though that pleased him, his surroundings continued to confuse him, as he looked more, and more of the clouds seemed chaotic, though try as he might, he never really got a good chance for him to look at one long enough. Though the wind rushing past him was fast, even if he flailed himself or spread himself out as much as he could, it would only rush past him, he couldn’t get any control over his fall.
Jack’s continued concerns over the clouds weren’t unfounded, none of the clouds seemed to move consistent to his fall, none got closer or farther, as if painted a static distance from him, and that's when he noticed that not all of the clouds were even real. If that’s what you could even call this, something in him doubted this was something he could easily rap his head around.
It had hit him, Jack hadn’t even bothered, but there was a distinct lack of sun. Where was the light? Where was it coming from? Then, much more physically this time, it hit him, or rather Jack had suddenly stopped. He was standing now, much to his confusion, most of the clouds were upside down. And when he looked to his feet, there was no ground.
Bravely, he placed one foot in front of the other, placing it down, he felt a firmness he wasn’t confident in, but leaned forward anyway, finding it held his weight. Jack finally got a good look around this bizarre scene. He had noticed early that most of the clouds were casting odd shadows, or weren’t the right side up. But what he hadn’t really gotten to fully see, was that within the mess of clouds, some weren’t even real, or rather, that they were cartoonish. While some weren’t the one he was looking at actually had Lines, and a spiral in it as if pulled straight from a cartoon.
He could almost swear he could recognize a few of the clouds, but every time he tried to focus on a cloud it seemingly disappeared.
Jack sat down on the invisible ground, bursting clouds unsure what to make of the place.