One Thousand Word Challenge 147: Toward Work

It was early in the morning. Still dark outside, but the first hints of sunlight were creeping their way into the space of which was inhabited by one sole person. There were others in the house, but this room was entirely this singular person’s and in this room they had chosen to exist and ensure that their existence was known. Perhaps it was not known outside of this room and this singular person was nothing more than an indistinguishable face in a crowd, but in this room they were the ruler of their kingdom and there was none who could take that way from them… yet.

They had been awake for a while, unable to sleep and unable to rest. They had tried; they had tried for hours. However, it was not to be and so they found themselves reaching a state of frustration that held until it passed as resignation to their inability to change the situation came to take over and take hold. There was something comforting in that, they thought, as it meant  that they were accepting this minor and pointless situation as one they had to ride out.

Of course, however, it had to occur on a day of work and it was a day where many a thing needed to come to pass before it had come to a close, and being in a state of low amounts of sleep was not conducive to engaging with such a day.

Slowly the outside world, or at least the small visible parcel of the outside world became brighter and it meant that they had to get up sooner rather than later. They could no longer postpone the inevitable and so they rose up out of bed and went through their usual routine of rushing about to get out of the house as soon as possible. They’d gotten it down to somewhere between fifteen and eighteen minutes, mostly through the elimination of breakfast at home. They liked to be early to work as it meant they had time to relax a little before their work day started, and so having breakfast there fit into that, they felt.

It also meant they wouldn’t have to worry about peak hour transport.

It was not long before they were out their front door and on the way to the bus stop. However, the bust stop they would walk to on this particular day was not the bus stop nearest top them, for there was a need to walk. There was a need to stretch their legs, for despite their having their own private kingdom, they felt cramped by it. They felt constrained and it was only in walking as much as they could they were able to feel as though they could soar, in a manner of speaking.

They walked along the road that went the majority of the length of their walk and they appreciated the views of water behind a fence. Industrial work was within vicinity and served as a reminder of the area’s factory history. Various new buildings served as a reminder for the area to do its best to forget that history as developers tried to present the place as bohemian in the way that all the new buildings could be considered bohemian had they been the only structures of their ilk on the area. Really it was just unfiltered gentrification serving no one but the developers as they slowly erased the social and cultural history of the area.

Soon water was no longer visible and others walking along to various areas came into view. Sure, there were a few along the way, but it seemed as though some became clusters the closer to the city they walked. Still, there remained plenty of room to walk around and stay on the footpath at an accelerated rate and so they kept on walking.

Traffic lights slowed the walking down, but these only served to provide pause for thought, not that there was any pause needed. They were on their way to work and they were so entrenched in routine that it was easy enough for them to be lost in thought without finding themselves in a situation where they may be physically engaged with traffic.

Perhaps the pause was necessary, however, as it created a pause in the rhythm. It gave the rhythm a rest and in that rest there could be time to prepare for faster walking, for over the road the path widened as it crossed a bridge that led into the city proper.

The tall structures of the city loomed off in the near distance. Soon their imposing height would engulf all and, even though the sun shone down on the area, there would be no seeking shade. None would be left wanting as the sun seemingly became invisible to most in the city.

Across the bridge and into the city proper they went and soon they found themselves desiring to return to their kingdom, for it was theirs and even though the city was free for roaming, it was not what they felt was rightfully theirs and they’d have preferred it be removed, or at the very least diminished. It was as imposing as it was uninviting, cold to the various small people that would pass through it every day. At least their trek through the urban development would be short, for they were soon to go underground to catch their train that would lead only slightly away from this particular region of the city. Their work place was one that was still firmly within the urban grip, but there was more space around them. Even so, it did not feel like an escape, but more a brief respite, for the moment they entered their office, despite time to relax, a day requiring much work lay ahead and on little sleep it was not a fun prospect. Still, despite desiring to turn around they went in, for their routine was performative, yet wholly required.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 16:20:09

I think going a little slower helped, though I hadn’t intended to go slower and was more forced to do so as I was thinking a bit about what I was writing.

A rather slow, writing, and rather dry.


I can’t think of the right words. Maybe dull. Don’t know.

Written at home.

About Stupidity Hole

I'm some guy that does stuff. Hoping to one day fill the internet with enough insane ramblings to impress a cannibal rat ship. I do more than I probably should. I have a page called MS Paint Masterpieces that you may be interested in checking out. I also co-run Culture Eater, an online zine for covering the arts among other things. We're on Patreon!
This entry was posted in Fiction and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.