HOME | DD

Description
Inlé came into the apartment's entryway. A few pairs of shoes and a pair of jackets were neatly stored there, but Inlé did not remove his own shoes as he entered.

"I'm back," he called. Back, not home. There is no home for a wanderer.

From the other room, his mother called, "Already? Did you forget the appointment?"

"No," he answered. He walked into the living room to face his mother. "I went."

"And?"

"It's official, mother. I'm crazy."

His mother said, "Inlé! I can't believe you'd say that! The doctor didn't say that, did he?"

"Would he?" Inlé asked. "No, mother, he would not. But on his notes, I spotted a bit saying 'extreme emotional imbalance generating delusional behaviors'. That's psycho-babble for crazy."

Inlé began to walk to his room as his mother called after him. "Inlé! You looked at his notes? Why would he allow such a thing?"

Inlé said, "He didn't. I spotted it as I was leaving. Face it, mother. I'm as mad as a porridge knife. Oh," he paused. "My next appointment is on the twenty-sixth at three. I'll be home late, as I have a date." He pushed his door open.

"A date, huh? And the girl is ... ?"

Inlé looked at his mother. "The attendant at the doctor's office. She asked me as she made my next appointment. I just went along with it."

"So it's just something to do? Nothing special?" His mother looked disappointed.

"No," Inlé agreed, "nothing special. Probably a one time thing. I have other things to do now, though. Goodnight." He stepped into his room and closed the door.

"What about dinner," his mother called.

"Not hungry," Inlé answered. "Not eating." Inlé leaned back against his door and looked over his room.

It was a small room, as would be expected in an apartment, with white walls and a white carpet. There was a small window against the wall opposite the door, where hung simple white drapes. Against one wall was a twin-sized bed, perfectly made, with white sheets. Beside him was a full-door dresser, bone white, as tall as he was. There was nothing to show that anyone lived in this room. There was no dust, though it was never cleaned. It was sterile, pristine, lifeless.

Inlé let his long hair down, sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, and placed his hands palm-up in his lap. After a moment, his hair began to stir, swirling around his head in the windless room. The flurry controlling his hair lifted Inlé off of the ground, and his head began to glow. Inlé became translucent as the room around him wrinkled like wet paper. Then he became solid once more as his hair stretched and straightened behind him. The room became black, and swirled about him like water entering a drain, and vanished, leaving Inlé nowhere, with his hair a disk behind him, with all the colors of existence pouring through the gaps. His eyes tore open as his green eyes glared at something before him that none but he could see. Those eyes flickered orange for a moment, and a new world grew around him.

*****

I haven't slept in that bed in the four months I've lived here. When I sleep, which is rare now, I avoid lying down; it allows the blood to become more sluggish, slows the waking reflexes. Not that I dislike the rest brought on by sleep, though dreams rarely grant me peace. I'm simply too busy.

Most youth my age are working registers, flipping burgers, washing dishes, or stocking shelves. I sometimes wish my job was so tedious. Not that my job is really that bad. At least there's never a dull moment. There's little money involved, and no real benefits--as a normal person would see them. The hours are painful, often interfering with school, and I'm allowed no personal life as I am always on call. It's almost like being top-secret military or a superhero, but not as 'cool'.

I am a Worldwanderer. The Worldwanderer. I basically hold the title of existence's janitor. And existence always needs someone to take out the trash.

Description
Inlé came into the apartment's entryway. A few pairs of shoes and a pair of jackets were neatly stored there, but Inlé did not remove his own shoes as he entered.

"I'm back," he called. Back, not home. There is no home for a wanderer.

From the other room, his mother called, "Already? Did you forget the appointment?"

"No," he answered. He walked into the living room to face his mother. "I went."

"And?"

"It's official, mother. I'm crazy."

His mother said, "Inlé! I can't believe you'd say that! The doctor didn't say that, did he?"

"Would he?" Inlé asked. "No, mother, he would not. But on his notes, I spotted a bit saying 'extreme emotional imbalance generating delusional behaviors'. That's psycho-babble for crazy."

Inlé began to walk to his room as his mother called after him. "Inlé! You looked at his notes? Why would he allow such a thing?"

Inlé said, "He didn't. I spotted it as I was leaving. Face it, mother. I'm as mad as a porridge knife. Oh," he paused. "My next appointment is on the twenty-sixth at three. I'll be home late, as I have a date." He pushed his door open.

"A date, huh? And the girl is ... ?"

Inlé looked at his mother. "The attendant at the doctor's office. She asked me as she made my next appointment. I just went along with it."

"So it's just something to do? Nothing special?" His mother looked disappointed.

"No," Inlé agreed, "nothing special. Probably a one time thing. I have other things to do now, though. Goodnight." He stepped into his room and closed the door.

"What about dinner," his mother called.

"Not hungry," Inlé answered. "Not eating." Inlé leaned back against his door and looked over his room.

It was a small room, as would be expected in an apartment, with white walls and a white carpet. There was a small window against the wall opposite the door, where hung simple white drapes. Against one wall was a twin-sized bed, perfectly made, with white sheets. Beside him was a full-door dresser, bone white, as tall as he was. There was nothing to show that anyone lived in this room. There was no dust, though it was never cleaned. It was sterile, pristine, lifeless.

Inlé let his long hair down, sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, and placed his hands palm-up in his lap. After a moment, his hair began to stir, swirling around his head in the windless room. The flurry controlling his hair lifted Inlé off of the ground, and his head began to glow. Inlé became translucent as the room around him wrinkled like wet paper. Then he became solid once more as his hair stretched and straightened behind him. The room became black, and swirled about him like water entering a drain, and vanished, leaving Inlé nowhere, with his hair a disk behind him, with all the colors of existence pouring through the gaps. His eyes tore open as his green eyes glared at something before him that none but he could see. Those eyes flickered orange for a moment, and a new world grew around him.

*****

I haven't slept in that bed in the four months I've lived here. When I sleep, which is rare now, I avoid lying down; it allows the blood to become more sluggish, slows the waking reflexes. Not that I dislike the rest brought on by sleep, though dreams rarely grant me peace. I'm simply too busy.

Most youth my age are working registers, flipping burgers, washing dishes, or stocking shelves. I sometimes wish my job was so tedious. Not that my job is really that bad. At least there's never a dull moment. There's little money involved, and no real benefits--as a normal person would see them. The hours are painful, often interfering with school, and I'm allowed no personal life as I am always on call. It's almost like being top-secret military or a superhero, but not as 'cool'.

I am a Worldwanderer. The Worldwanderer. I basically hold the title of existence's janitor. And existence always needs someone to take out the trash.