(Prompt from Reddit)
[The sun has suddenly disappeared from the sky. Everyone around you is panicking, yet you are eerily calm. What brings you peace in the newfound darkness?]
I can't help but snicker. All around me, fingers are pointing to the sky. There are gasps, shouts, cries. Some woman comes tearing out of her house in a bathrobe, muttering something to herself about how surely she'd overslept more than she thought, surely the clocks were wrong.
Some guy near me is standing on the roof of his jeep, as if getting six feet closer to the sky will give him a better vantage point. He's snapping photos with his phone. I'm sure this'll be all over Twitter in moments. Who wouldn't turn to Twitter for comfort, knowing that the end of the world is at hand?
Except it isn't, as I well know. Just a bit of harmless mischief, nothing more.
I tuck the thermos deeper into the side of my black fleece jacket. It's comfortingly warm. I can't wait to get it home, so I start running. A feather floats down behind me - whoops, oh well, they grow back. Nobody's going to catch the significance of that, even if they do notice.
So I get home to the house I'm renting, pull a round tupperware out of the cabinet, get the thermos, and carefully unscrew it. Light pours out, wild and intense. I quickly decant its contents into the tupperware and then seal it shut, burping it once for good measure. It would suck if I went and let the sun go stale. I'd never live that down.
So there it is - a tupperware full of bright, white-yellow goo, spraying furious, miniscule arcs of solar matter into the half-inch of air at the top. It hurts to look at. Maybe I should have used one of the semi-opaque tupperwares, instead, I think. Oh well, this'll do.
I sit there, admiring my handiwork and not worrying too much about radiation, because it's me, you know? I'm above those concerns.
But then I realize - now I've got it, what the heck am I going to do with the danged thing? I can't just put it back. Not after all the work I put into getting it in the first place. But I can't keep it, can I?
Maybe I can sell it. Or slip it to someone else, get a good laugh out of watching them try to deal with it.
Writing Exercise Index: