Drabble:

The cave is dark and cool, just as the beast likes it. He sleeps soundly, his bedding surrounded by the remains of meals, cast-off coverings and the occasional trophy amidst the other offal. It is his lair, rich with his scent, and woe to any who dare enter it.

The sudden intrusion of light causes him to stir, blinking his eyes blearily. A single figure stands shadowed in the opening.

“Get up, you’re going to be late for school!” orders the invader.

“Just five more minutes, Mom,” he pleads, burrowing beneath the bedcovers.

His mother sighs and closes the door.

Bwah! That sounds so like my brothers when they were teenagers.

Heh, cute, Kalshane.

Gah, deb. Bet the utter chaos and the number of people leaving aren't entirely coincidental. Something about rats, and sinking ships. Anyway, it just sounds totally inept. Saying "yeah, we know about the problem" when it's a "problem" that would take 30 seconds to fix is completely unacceptable.

I guess I'd have to claim this one as biographical, in the general sense that most teenage boys are like that. I certainly was, both with the messiness and the sleepiness.

My mother took a picture of my room once for posterity's sake. The highlight, amongst all the clutter, is the lone sock draped over the power cord for the alarm clock.

Heh. Kalshane, that one's fun.

Liese, I've given up. I'm just going to keep writing them their fourth book and try to attain some #%%$#$^^$^% zen.

Or not.

Cave? Huh. Must cogitate.

I read that as copulate. Obsessed, moi?

I read that as copulate. Obsessed, moi?

Zen through multiple orgasms works fine for me. Either way, must see what pokes its head out of the cave.

must see what pokes its head out of the cave.

Huh. Guess I've been doing it wrong all these years.

Darkness

Down, down, deeper and down....

This is where the monsters live.

Close your eyes, lost, panicky sweaty hands trying despeately to find the wall, but you can't. No hope in hell, and hell is where you are, maybe, needing light, finding none.

You always thought memory was a well. Turns out you were wrong: it's a hole, with things you made yourself waiting behind every invisible turn, teeth and claws and the pain of what you had and what you lost, and the sunlight you can never find again.

Down, down, deeper and down. This is where the monsters live.

Bible Stories

Moses, so the Bible tells us, retreated to a cave when he was overwhelmed by stress -- Israelites threatening his life and so forth. If a great prophet fled for shelter when it got tough, why should I be any stronger?

The Bible goes on to tell us that God showed up at the cave and put Moses' worries into perspective with a display of nature's raw power -- winds, earthquakes, fire. And then God asked Moses what he was doing there, hiding in a cave. The implication being, disasters will come, despite whispered wishes and fervent prayers; there's no stopping that. But after the fury dies down, then what, God asks, are you doing?

Hide during the distaster, by all means; keep yourself safe. But don't keep hiding when it's past.

So what, then, am I doing?