The opera singer made deals with himself like, "if I practice voice lessons for the whole day, then I will have time for games at night," and, "if I go for a walk, then I can have all the chocolate ice cream I crave." The day's intention started out with the best of intentions but, instead of doing the things that he knew he should be doing, the things that ran over and over in his mind, the things he repeated scolded himself for not doing, the urge to sit around playing games while still in his nightgown with a tub of his favorite chocolate ice cream next to his computer screen was too much to pass up. Who could beat a day like this?
Besides, the guards at the door kept him from leaving, from being by himself except in the room where he was. They expected him to practice day in and day out. Their employer demanded that they see to it that this happened.
Jones put on a prerecorded cd, one that would go on for hours, of himself practicing scales, he sat down in front of him a computer to get immersed in a game. He dug a spoon into the frozen tub of ice cream as his computer booted up.
It was all different since the time of the GF-69 virus. People were directed to stay at home. Going out meant that you might have to pay a steep price. People were encouraged to do their shopping over the internet. No one was supposed to be touching one another. They watched news reports from newscast anchors who sat in their own homes. Was it all a ruse he would wonder.
No one was told when the pandemic may end, only that they were to stay inside until given permission to come out.
Shit.
Jones, although feeling slightly guilty for not keeping up with his practice and for not keeping his body in shape, loved the alone time. When was the last time he'd been alone? He could hardly recall it had been so long. Being a world-famous opera singer didn't give his that privilege. He was constantly being pulled this way and that. He was constantly told that he would have to be at this place at this particular time because his contract kept him to his word or else his life would be put in jeopardy.
You don't mess with the rich man's money. Jones had learned that lesson once before.
It was in the time of another great transition, the one from boyhood to manhood. A serious man came to see his father who had been late on paying his workers their pay. Because the workers didn't get their pay, the man that came to see the opera boy's father watched his workers go on strike. Because of this, Jones' father was strapped to a horse buggy and made to pull the rich man around the neighbor. Jones was made to come along, sitting on the seat with the rich man.
It was the first time that Jones had seen his father completely humiliated in front of a crowd. Losing respect for his father that day, he handed it over to the man with the money, for he was the one that made the world turn.
Jones mindlessly played his favorite game at the moment, Dungeons of No Great Escape. He got lost in the tunnels that had no end, picking up potions, armor, and keys that would allow him to go deeper into the depth, into the horror, into a world that allowed him to forget and be alone. Anything to keep his mind off of practicing and keeping his body in shape. He was tired and wanted the needed rest.
Jones' bosses couldn't say anything at this time. The governments of the world had given their orders. They were the money men to Jones' money men and you don't go around pissing off the government. The ones that do are subjected to experiments. Where? Classified. How long? Until your body dried up or what they did to you binds to you in unexpected ways - further testing required then too.
Don't bite the hand that feeds you.
Jones felt his left shoulder muscle tighten and loosen, tighten and loosen. It was a bad habit of his when he was stress or sat down in front of a computer screen for far too many hours of the day.
He scrapped the bottom of the ice cream jug, savoring every last little bit he could scape out like a man in a desert holding up a jug waiting for that last water droplet to trickle down into his mouth.
His neck hurt. He moved it around in circles, cracks and pops sounded off like a wooden ship that was newly constructed. He had learned not to follow the feeling long ago because, when he did, he searched for that high feeling again and again - each time disappointed that he couldn't reach the high he craved.
Hours later, the guards at his door knocked and asked if he was alright. They were beginning to worry because Jones hadn't had a bite to eat for at least a day. Jones affirmed them that everything was okay, neglecting to mention the fridge he'd kept hidden stored with food. They wanted to come in and check on him but he wouldn't allow it. The guards were always breathing down his neck. They were always whispering in his ear.
Besides, they would find the window with the missing screen and the rope that would take him down to the first floor where he could escape to truly be by himself.
All that Jones wanted was a break from the world. This virus was giving him that. When escaping into a virtual world wasn't enough, he climbed through his window and disappeared for a few hours.
Freewrite brought to you by @mariannewest and @freewritehouse
If you would like to find out what freewriting is all about, go here.
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A project with me and the bananafish knights is yours to quest in.
Old list of completed freewrites
New list:
| Non-Fiction | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Dachshund |
| Ongoing Stories | Numbered in Order of Story's Progression | |||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Orbit |
| Poems | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Spider Web |
| We-writes (collaborations with community members) | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| The Maze |
What a terrible punishment:
Sounds like some primitive backward place, not a 21st century society where people play video games.
My nieces used to pull that trick with piano practice - playing a recording of them practicing. WTF. Why not just practice those scales, kids... my dad wouldn't let us have a piano, or pay for lessons, so I guess I don't identify.
You capture the mood of the day with this one. Bring on the chocolate ice cream!
Sounds primitive but I saw some people actually doing this one day when I went up to Kenneth Hahn State Park for class. I think it was a domination peice or some really freaky stuff was going on.
haha