This is flash fiction relating to the surreal.
He had a mid life crises.
The crises were as follows:
- He would want to burst out in laughter (any time).
- He would suddenly weep till his body shook (sometimes).
- He would write letters furiously and continuously for days. Later he mastered the art form of the epistolary technique to write narratives.
- He would hallucinate, but could not see the difference between the imaginary and the real.
- He saw dark spots in time.
- He would fall off to sleep anytime.
- He snored, although he was very thin.
But he loved crises. Some people thought that he had gone mad. (But actually, and he knew it – he was going berserk and rampant with ideas).
What is an idea? He asked. The word comes from ideate, ideation he answered. Then he read philosophy, but discovered that the crises were cutting edge, became more severe. (They said he was paranoid).
In the midst of all the crises he met:
a) A dwarf
b) A lunatic
c) A gnome
d) A giant
He had heard or read about them, only in Fairy Tales; the tales, that he was told that faeries wove, the tales that had to be told and retold.
His, was a Fairy Tale. He became a raconteur, a story teller, in short a liar, because there could not be any truth in a story; that is why it, was a story; can’t you see?
Then life became fragmented, another crisis. The fragments fell into so tiny, miniscule pieces, that he could not see them. They were in ruins and lay scattered in pieces.
They told him to go to church and pray; to get out of this entanglement. He did.
The marauding wind came to him and whispered: “Life is not becoming, it is being. So be it”.
Yes, so be it. The he started writing his autobiography and the Mid Life Crisis. He was hospitalized, because it was all in the mind. But, what about the body? he asked.
“That is what” the doctor told him “It is all in the mind and the body, knows it . . .”
Then came another crisis. He would suddently erupt into anger, like a conflagration, a burning of the sould. Anger was mayhem.
The gnome came to him and said: “It is . . .”
The lunatic said: “It was . . .”
The dwarf said: “Short, life is short”.
The giant exorcised the demon in him.
A mad, hopping crow, pecked at the filth inside (him).
He listed all his crises and wrote a book: “How to overcome crises in life . . .”
He saw Dark Spots In Time. He winced, these time spots became larger, with the growing of every day.
A tree listened to this sorrows and a crow watched mournfully.
Then, he knew alogorithms was the answer!
When they took him to the crematorium, he knew it was the body.
It was reduced to ashes.