#97 - Delirious - "Adrift" 1/1 - angelswilliam - Original

[nondenomifan.livejournal.com]

Title: Adrift
Fandom: Original Fic
Prompt: tamingthemuse #97 - Delirious
Word Count: 691
Warnings: Major angst. First person POV extended metaphor.
Rating: All ages, but anyone under 12 will probably scratch their head and say, "Huh?"
Summary: Developments at work inspired this little gem. (That is sarcasm, yes.) Some of you know what I mean.
Author's Note: This is the first original fic I've been inspired to write since college. That's 13 years, folks (maybe even before that, as that's just the year I graduated). You can imagine how much emotion is behind this baby to fuel the original fic fires after all that time.

I am a piece of ice adrift in the cold sea of corporate America, getting bumped about by the other jagged pieces that have been cut from the whole. I occasionally near a solid piece, only to be rejected by its hard barrier and turned back into the deep, damp cold with its bitter winds and mocking clear-sky sun.

But, wait! Has my luck changed? The sea urges me toward a small opening in one of the mammoth structures. Nearly delirious with excitement at the prospects, I allow myself to be led by the tide toward the safety of this new shelter from the uncertainty outside.

It soon becomes apparent, however, that the inside of the masses of ice boasts no protection; in fact, it feels more treacherous at times, and I find myself longing for the familiar territory of the outside world. At least out there I knew what to expect. Inside the structure, very sharp objects fall from great heights with no warning at unpredictable intervals. I never know if one of them will break me into shards, forever destroying who I am and what I have spent all my life becoming.

I am a survivor, though. I refuse to let the falling missiles deter me from staying where the sea has led me. I will follow the soul that has known me so well for so many years. How could one who knows me so ever steer me wrong?

So, I float about in the dark of this place, dodging all the attempts at my destruction that the ceiling I cannot see continues to drop on me. They seem to come closer and closer to hitting me, but then I manage to find shelter under lower ceilings in the cavern that are easier to see and that have no destructive missiles falling from them. They seem to be there merely to help me negotiate the waters inside this fearsome structure.

Gradually, though, each lower ceiling either wears or floats away as the pieces from the heights above hit them. Oh, no: they are not immune to the barrage. They actually seem to receive the brunt of the punishment for sheltering me from it; which, of course, makes me feel extremely sorry for using them that way...but what alternative do I have?

Eventually, I have worn through all the protective lower ceilings. There is nothing between my eminent destruction and me. I nervously await my fate and, though accepting it, find myself feeling sick with the dread of it, not knowing what will become of me once I'm nothing but shards and realizing I don't want to know.

Before I have the chance to consider my future any further, there is a terrible cracking sound from the unfathomable heights above me, traveling toward me from the opposite end of the cavern. A huge, white cloud of ice crystals puffs toward me, and then I am blinded by bright sunlight to which I haven't been exposed for a now uncertain amount of time.

As soon as I see the light, I hear a mighty whoosh sound, and with it I am rushed toward the light. I am terribly frightened. I have never moved this quickly before. I don't know where I'm going or what's going to happen when I get there. I am entering a new situation without any knowledge or warning, and I don't like it.

And then I arrive. I am not in a new place or situation. I am back out in the ice cold deep of corporate America with the others. I hit the few who were nearest the place I came from, and they hit right back, causing some cold water to splash up onto my surface and add even more ice onto my already chilled body.

Though this place is familiar, I can't help but feel a failure. The soul of the sea steered me toward greatness; and I struggled and strove but could not fill the needs to achieve that end. Instead, I return to my beginnings and wonder if I will ever become anything more than a cold, useless piece of flotsam.

Comments

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

I think you work in the school where I teach. I truly do. I swear, was the world always this damn cold or is the world being taken over by cold-hearted bastards who will claw over anyone to get one more dollar??

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Wow. I absolutely loved how you portrayed all of this! You do original fic fantastically sweetpea.

I am a survivor, though. I refuse to let the falling missiles deter me from staying where the sea has led me. I will follow the soul that has known me so well for so many years. How could one who knows me so ever steer me wrong?

Oh. That sweetness and innocence hurts. I've been there.

Fantastically done.

~Nebula

[nondenomifan.livejournal.com]

Actually, I work out of my home. I used to work as an independent contractor for an online company, if you can believe that. It's pretty sad when even independent contractors who own their own businesses are no longer safe from corporate America, seeing as how that was the reason they became independent contractors in the first place.

We are corporate America. Prepare to be assimilated. Resistance is futile.

SHEESH.

[nondenomifan.livejournal.com]

Thank you, honey! I'm really touched by your feedback! Seriously, though: I'm only able to write original fic when something in life really moves me. I am working on 1 nonfiction book and another that I'm not sure whether it's going to be nonfiction or original fiction ("How Nice Folks Turn Nasty" about weaker, kinder personalities being taken advantage of by dominant, manipulative ones, and then getting criticized by those who knew them for being such nasty people themselves). The nonfiction work is my baby, though, and I have already begun taking notes in the form of paragraphs. It's called Discovering Me: Now That I Know I'm an Adult with Asperger Syndrome (working title, though the "Discovering Me" part is definite.