Thursday, 25 March 2010

 

Lethargic


Lethargy. 

The last time he suffered this disease was when he was fifteen. Ever since the disease had put up so well with him. 

Lying down in his bed alone, a prickly fear crept over his person that he decided to drink some beer. No sooner had the beer flowed down to his liking, he had a strong desire to smoke.

He lit himself a smoke and looked at the side of the wall where portraits of his parents and siblings were put on.  

His dad seemed to look at him with those stern eyes, as though, he was lashing him hard with those looks. 

But, there were days when his dad lashed him even though he didn’t smoke or drink. 

He let those thoughts linger on for some time. All the same, he went strong with beer and smokes.

By the time, the beer was gone, it was already time for his bed.

He slept like a log for a very long time. 

No one knows if he got up after that.... ever!

Comments:
simply beautiful and painfully sweet!
 
i thank you on behalf of the gone, anon :)
 
i love it!!!
 
thanks dichen :)
 
Nice style of writing. Loved it.
 

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