Red Room Where the Writers Are

Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE TH /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0cm; mso-para-margin-right:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0cm; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:14.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}

The orange from the setting sun in the east licked the now gray sky. Most sunsets expand like a mushroom cloud before it ran out of oxygen to consume, eventually they die as night overtakes it .  This times it the gray of the colorless day was overrun by the orange. I felt drawn to the orange glowing even though for some reason I felt that this sunset was not like other sunsets. It was the only source of nourishment in a land where everything had died.                 Perhaps saying things had died would be unfair to things that were dead because zombies here were neither alive nor dead. They just simply existed. I tried to think of things other than the all consuming hunger. There was a lot of anger because I was not supposed to be here. I am special. I deserve better than this.  Apparently I had also forgotten the difference between thinking things and yelling them out angrily because as the final “s” rolled off my tongue the zombies looked around and  before looking into their glowing cubes or simply going back to just existing .       

  As I walked towards where I imagined the sun should be setting. I retraced my day and tried to figure out where things had gone so terribly wrong. But I found greater comfort in the warm blanket of self-pity that embraced me. Just wait and someone will do something for me. That is the way it had been before I had come to this place. It had worked fine then so it should be the way it worked now.    

            As I walked towards what I had thought was the sunset I realized it was not the sunset. I realized it was a magnificent ivory building now blackened.  Some zombies roamed near r it to keep warm. But most of them stood absorbing the nourishing radiation from the two televisions perched on the top of hills on opposite sides of the field that was folding out in front of me.

One group listened to the bald man as he explained how he had built this building to house food and that it was quite a nice building, well at least before its current state. The bald headed man spoke loudly in case the speakers were not enough to carry his voice. And the zombies fed on his anger and virtuosity. They cheered for the bald headed man and stomachs were full.

Another group of zombies watched Richard as he explained that had the ivory building filled with food had never been built by the bald headed man then it would not be burning down to begin with.  He promised that when the tower had burnt to the ground that he would build a taller ivory story in which he would store food.  He spoke softly, but put speakers everywhere so even if you weren’t interested then you would still hear him. And the zombies fed on his slogans and inherent goodness. They cheered for Richard and their stomach were full.

And I sat and waited, I was in the deepest reaches of my inwit. I could have, in theory, gotten a bucket of water and tried to put it out myself. Maybe I could grab some of the others and we could clear out a path to the food and feast on something that real. There were a myriad of possibilities and as the self proclaimed spokesman of Generation X have the duty to think of more. This building is very is pretty big, its flames can keep me warm for a very long time, I am in no rush.