Morning all. Had terrible nightmares last night and hoping the morning prompt will clear them. So with that in mind, lets jump in. Timers set for fifteen minutes.
Not quite where I thought this would go but I kind of want to see where Mike goes next…
Tuesday, September 23rd: It was clear this was a mistake.
It was clear this was a mistake. There were some people who could not be reasoned with, simply because they made their decision and set it in stone.
Mike shook his head. ‘Not stone,’ he thought. ‘They buried themselves knee deep in concrete.’ The concrete settled and he knew that it would not only take a jack hammer to pry them loose but that they would probably loose limbs as well.
‘Gruesome metaphor,’ he reminded himself as he watched the continuing debate. It seemed somehow apt. The debate, such as it was seemed to be winding down. It wasn’t an actual debate. One side seemed intent on yelling they were right and that there needed to be no discussion on any point.
Questions were asked by the other side and were for the most part ignored. Mike was certain it was because the opposition had no answers for the questions and thus simply proclaimed the questions invalid. It was disheartening to watch.
Worse, he knew that when it was over the entrenched would declare it a victory of free speech. That logic won out over those who would oppose them. Sadly most of them would believe this was true instead of seeing themselves as bullies who simply shouted down anyone who questioned them. He could already see smug looks on a few faces as the time ran out.
Knowing he was in no mood to listen to the chest thumping he eased himself out of the room, slipping out of the door. He left as unnoticed as he arrived. He was originally supposed to cover a secrtion of topics, but his entire list of topics was struck off the debate because they were deemed inappropriate. He wasn’t terribly surprised. They were topics that were uncomfortable truths no one wanted to think about let alone discuss.
‘Doesn’t mean it isn’t important,’ he thought. It was an old thought. He hadn’t really expected different. He realized it was a glimmer of hope that brought him out. He still felt a tiny pin prick of light in him where hope still lived, but it was getting dimmer each day.
Mike turned his steps out of town heading for his car. He would not be attending the victory gatherings nor the commiseration meetings. Each were in their own way equally depressing. It was best to head home and maybe run a bit on the treadmill, getting his mind clear with physical exertion so he had a chance to sleep instead of playing events though his mind in a repetitive loop.
‘At this rate I might as well be training for a marathon,’ he thought.
Mike had always been fairly indifferent to exercise. He was fairly healthy but had no desire to spend time in a gym. He did enough physical exertion around his property to keep him in reasonably good shape. Lately thought his mind wouldn’t quiet and he was told that physical exertion might help. There was an old tread mill in the garage from when his Uncle John decided he wanted to run a marathon. Mike remembered him using it every day for a year, speed and duration increasing. He then ran the marathon, got the metal and the treadmill went into storage.
It was a family trait. Setting a goal, working hard to achieve it and then losing complete interest once that goal was accomplished. Thus far Mike avoided the cycle by simply not becoming obsessed with anything. Yet these days it seemed like he was taking up his uncles running schedule if only to ensure he got a good night’s sleep.
‘Maybe I ought to find an obsession of my own,’ Mike thought. He wasn’t entirely certain how far he could push the thirty year old treadmill before something broke.
Ten til Midnight 