Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Everything Has a Face

Just something I wrote recently, which I'm posting for the sake of posting something. I don't know what it's about. Anyone feel like writing the next bit?


He wakes up, and everything has a face. The shirt he is wearing has a face. His boxer shorts. The footboard of his bed has a thin, wide smile, just a dark line, really, and small wide-set dots for eyes. The bed smiles a bit wider when it catches him looking at it. The eyes blink.

He doesn’t notice the faces right away. He’s myopic. In the shuffly morning he rises, has a pee, returns to the bedroom for his glasses, and then there they are. The endtable has a face. The mirror has a face. Two faces, now. Each of the four walls, the ceiling, the floor smile back at him. He examines his glasses. There is a tiny smiling face on the bridge, between the lenses.

Everything has a face. Everything that didn’t have a face already. Through his smiling window he sees happy buildings, distant, smiling mountains. The street has a face, one for each block. Trees, cars, public telephones, newspaper boxes, hydrants, signs, streetlamps. The people down on the street have faces. Their regular faces. They also have faces on each article of clothing, on the taut curve of an umbrella in the hand of a woman who hasn’t noticed it’s stopped raining. High above, the gray clouds have wispy, dreamlike smiles.

None of the people seem especially surprised by the faces.

He turns to look once more at his own room, and his eyes settle again on the bed. The bed grins a toothy grin. It seems really jazzed to have him looking at it so much.

“Can you talk?” he asks. The bed doesn’t say anything. It winks but it doesn’t say anything.


Nina Crittenden said...

He then turned on his radio.
It was time to face the music.

Kyler Dannels said...

I don't feel confident enough to continue the story, but... This is awesome.

Love this blog, thanks for sharing.


Anonymous said...

Not an ending, but it's what played out in my head after your bit.

He grins at the bed. The bed trembles a little. He raises an eyebrow and stoops in closer. The bed is contorting and shaking in spasms. He nervously stumbles to the door. The bed stops for a moment, before sputtering into uproariously hearty laughter.

He sits on the floor opposite the bed while the bed chuckles, struggling to regain its composure. The bed fixes him with an focused stare and announces, "Game's up! He's seen us"

The whole rooms seems to exhale, as if after holding its breath for a very long time. The lamp sways in relief, "About time too!"

He remains on the floor, watching his furnishings cavort about, giggling and reminiscing with one another. "Excuse me," he asks, "what does this mean? Am I the Chosen One? Is this some kind of magic prophesy?".

The cabinet snorts, "Aha! Sorry mate, nothing of that kind. Don't get so self-important about it". "But why me?", he asks pleadingly. The cabinet giggles, "I dunno, maybe you just got clever or something. Don't ask us, we're just furniture"

"So is it just this room, or is everything going to start carrying on like this?" he asks. The lamp sidles up to him, "Look, picture this; When you walk down the street, does everyone talk to you? No. So, there's no reason why suddenly everything would want to be talking to you. Really! You can be so self-important."

Viv Rae said...

"Well, that's rather creepy," he says with a bit of surprise in his tone. The bed gives him a somewhat concerning smile.

Suddenly there was tap on his shoulder. He quickly turned to see who or what it was. Standing behind him was a brown haired woman, that he suddenly recognized as his wife.

"Honey, are you alright?" she says in her normal voice,"You hit your head pretty hard on the medicine cabinet door, last night. You got up really fast saying that you had to pee really badly, you went in there so fast, you didn't even see that the cabinet was open. All of the sudden there was a huge crash. When i went in there, you were lying on the floor unconscious. Thank goodness you're alright."

Once again the man looks around the room. All the faces are still there, with their smiling faces.

"i don't think I'm alright because everything has a face."

The End, well maybe.

Anonymous said...

My bed frame has garfield faces in the iron moldings. At least i think so.