This is a brief excerpt from the novel I'm writing- A quirky man with a torrid love life makes a half-hearted prayer for help to get the girl he loves- And his bubbly guardian angel might just help him do it, or make him see the world in a new way.
“You won’t beat me, you sugary bastard.”
I’m sitting here in my apartment, having a stare down with an unlikely yet unrelenting opponent, and there is no way I’m backing down. Too much is at stake (I think), and I haven’t spent this long trying to find out what’s wrong just to lose to a stupid bag of crap like this. My enemy, though, is unnerving. Not flinching, never blinking, not even breathing. Just sitting there, mocking me with its silence. It knows what I want, and I’ll die before I move, not until it tells me what happened to me to cause this state of apathy, this sense of brokenness that I’ve fought tooth and nail for weeks to uplift. I will not falter. I will not fail. It’s just us.
And the bag of cotton candy.
I’ve searched for days, knowing that there’s an answer somewhere. I don’t know when it happened, but sometime recently, something occurred, something I can’t explain, and that’s the problem. It’s like I woke up, in my own body, as if I was on auto-pilot and not registering anything. I wasn’t daydreaming, I was apparently in the middle of a conversation at work, and BLAMO, there I was. No time had passed that I can remember, and I was still wearing my clothes (stop picturing me naked) and I still had my coffee in my hand.
Something was wrong though. Different. Not the way it should be. I spent the rest of the day working on the Gamer’s Pit slogan, made small talk with Janice (ahh, Janice) and then came home, here, to my apartment in downtown Des Moines. I spent the night going over every inch of my apartment, hoping to find out what it was that gave me this sense of loss, but I found nothing, The beige walls laughed at my frantic hunt, having a jolly good time while I ripped apart couches, chairs, closets, the garage, my car, Franklin’s kennel (he didn‘t like that), the cupboards, the fridge, the bathroom, my bed. I knocked over painting supplies, spilled my laundry, shoved my DVDs from their perch. Something was gone, and I was going to remove everything else until I found out what.
I wasn’t successful that first night, or for the following weeks, I walked everywhere in this town. Every alleyway, every dark corner, every bar, every store, every apartment building I could walk into without a key, running from security guards in the ones I couldn’t. I asked workers at every place I went if they recognized me, but that gave me nothing other than a great deal of confused looks. I even called my parents, actually listened to my mother prattle for a full hour before I hung up.
No Mom, I’m fine. Just missing something. No, I don’t know what it is. Yes, that makes it harder. No, I know it’s bad out. Yes, I’m keeping warm. I can’t find- I don’t know. A thing? An item? A paper? A folder? A person? A person. A person? How does someone lose a person? No Mom, I don’t know. Yes, I still work with Janice. No Mom, we haven’t gotten together. Yeah, she’s straight Mom. Yes Mom, so am I.
PLEASE UNDERSTAND- This is the novel I am concentrating on- I'll post more as soon as I transfer it from the page it's typed on to the computer; it was on my old computer before it crashed and died :(