A Short Story (Part One)

Part One of a Short Story

Timothy Laef when looking up at the starry night sky, as he often did, lying on the ground, would occasionally be struck with a strange and unpleasant sensation of looking down at it rather than looking up.

On these feelings Laef would rise warily upwards (or for horrible moments, downwards) until the lurching had abated, and think to himself, ‘I wish I’d never started to think like this.’ For that is how it had begun - with mere thought. He had started to wonder, while lying there, about what would happen if suddenly the whole Earth were to turn on itself, and all its inhabitants fall zooming off into space. Then he’d start to make himself feel as if he were looking down, that is, into the night sky and not up at it. This had come surprisingly (and startlingly) easy; but it had been a consious imagining, something which he could stop at any moment - it wasn’t a feeling, he was just thinking of what it would be like.

But not now. Not for the past few days. It felt really like he was looking down so much that once, the Tuesday past, he’d screamed - short and loud.

Laef got up and walked into his house, into the dark kitchen, poured himself some water from the tap. He wasn’t thirsty. He wondered what was wrong, with him, with the world. Angst. That’s what they called it. A feeling that all is not well… Leaf had quite enjoyed this uneasyness when havind sensed it earlier in life, but now with the setting on of age he longed for more stability. Why did nothing seem normal. Was this his home? Pull youreself together, man; this is no way to think.

Next morning was bright and cheerful and blueness stretched from horizon to horizon. The trees were bare as matches, and the air was gripped in a still, silent coldness. But Laef enjoyed the cold, so much so that this morning, as he often did, he wore just a tee-shirt. He felt as cheerful as the grass as he made his way campus-wise.

Where’s part two?

You can’t just leave us hanging. :wink: