When Garios had taken a whiff of his surroundings, what he had last expected was to be introduced to such a putrid odor. A foul, hair-raising smell lingered on his nostrils until he waved it away with his hands. None of it made sense. The city of Akrios was one whose very foundations were hewn in marble, the very flagstones of the city’s avenues being the same ivory as the quartz sculptures to be found in the Upper District. Colonnades stretching on to eternity, and most of the settlement being bathed in eastern perfumes and incenses, Garios would have never thought to come across such a vulgar stench. But where could it come from?

   Wherever his eyes would turn to they would be met with the glistening surfaces of marble tile. Even the abodes of the destitute held a certain radiance to them in that city!

   So the question was…why? On that lonely street of such a large city, why and how could anyone manage to leave such a stench? A fly hovered around Garios’s shoulder until he flicked it away with his hands. Finally, his eyes hovered over to an opening between two houses that left a space between one another. A narrow corridor leading deep into an alley with a single shaft of light piercing into it. A single shaft of light that sliced across the leathery skin of a human hand.

   Garios stifled a gasp and then he…

Your fingers freeze the second before they tap on one of your computer keys. You had a great line of dialogue brewing up in your head, you just lost it for a moment. You decide that a few moments to think wouldn’t do you any harm. Retrieving your fingers from the keyboard, and resting them on your lap, you take a few seconds to pontificate.


You chuckle to yourself. You remembered an old anecdote that a friend of yours was particularly fond of sharing. Apparently an old gentleman with Alzheimer’s had made it a habit of his to walk across the accounting firm in which this acquaintance of yours worked in. Supposedly, he’d come over every day around 5:30 at the afternoon, right before your friend was set to leave his shift. The old man would saunter his way towards the receptionist’s desk in that same painful gait that those in advanced age usually partake in. And then he would say something along the lines of…

“Idiot!” You snap yourself out of your daydreaming. Why you decide to repeat that story to yourself? You have no idea. It wasn’t even that funny of a story anyway. But that doesn’t matter! You just need to…oh, right! You wanted to remember that line of dialogue. You adjust yourself on your computer chair and crack the bones in your spine. You only need a few moments to ponder.


While you’re inside of your mindscape, your leg slips and causes your swiveling chair to make a weird creaking noise. Your lower body, taking on a mind of its own,  allows your feet to sway the computer chair this way and that while your ears are serenaded by that creaking song that comes from the action. Eek…ohh…eek…ohh…eek…ohh…you begin to form a rhythm of your own. Slowly but surely, you learn how to make the Eek noise drag on for longer like the high note on an instrument, only to conduct a calculated, methodical, and dynamic shift toward the ohh in half a second. Eventually, you learn that there’s a beat to it all, and you start making a song about it in your head. Eek…ohhohh…Eek…ohhohh…EEEEEK…ohhohhohh. perhaps you could make a dubstep remix of the tune and–

“Damn it all! The book, the blasted book!” You plant your feet firm on the ground, regaining control of your lower body yet again. This time you’ll most definetly find those words that you were looking for. Your determination is unconquerable! It’s only a matter of giving yourself enough time to let your mind be probed.


Garios stifled a gasp and then he flung his body headlong into the alley. Trudging through the muck and filth of the alley, he could scarcely believe what lay before him. The stench, the acrid odor, the flies, all things that clung to the smell of something that was rotting. Something–or someone–that was dead.

 A shiver crept up his spine and–

A notification blares off in your phone. You jump, startled, against the padding of your computer chair and you send it rolling all the way down to the end of your room. You frantic hand grips the rim of a drawer before your chair can topple over. You gulp down a lump in your throat, and you shove away your chair to open your phone. You’ve been waiting for this notification for three hours now, and it’s about damn time that your best friend reacted to that funny meme you sent him all those hours ago.

You struggle with the geometric shapes that make up your password, until you’re greeted with all the separate bubbles of apps floating in the void of your cellular device. You swipe through the apps until you reach one that is clearly named “Wuttsupp”. Your eyes beam when you see that red dot with a number 1 next to your app. You press it and you don’t even look at the most recent message before you open the chat. The Transcript reads as following.

You: Yo, man, I’ve just been wondering what you’ve been up to? They’ve been slavin us around in the office for the last few days, I feel like I’m gonna die LOLOLOLOL.

Friend: Same, bro, it’s been crazy around here. Last night mom started nagging about wanting me to leave the house and get a job already. Can you believe her? Sumthin about “You need to be indendent” and all that BS.

You: That sucks, dude.

Friend: Yeah.

(One of the most profound, intellectual, philosophical, and overall awkward silences you have ever experienced ensues.)

You: LOL, I found this awesome thing on the internet!  Check it!


My face when I finish writing

You: That’s just like me when I’m writing! Cool right!?!?!?

(And once again, the conversation descends into the second most profound, intellectual, philosophical, and overall awkward silences you have ever experienced. Three hours to be precise.)

Friend: k :p

Your hand trembles after you enact an iron grip upon your phone. You grit your teeth in agony. Five minutes you had labored to find that meme, five minutes of your life wasted. All for a letter and licking emoticon as a respond. How dare he…how dare he…

“Not again!” You fling your phone across your bed until it lands on a pillow. You slap yourself across the face, tighten your seat, and glue your eyes to the blinking cursor in your word document. Now you could write. It was only a matter of whether or not you allowed your mind to be assaulted by knowledge to perforate it.


You open your eyes. You close the lid of your laptop, you tuck it away inside of your desk where you’ll never have to see it again, and then you walk out of your room. You just needed time for yourself. Time to relax and collect yourself before you started writing again. Time to pontificate.