Undying Read Free Page B

Gravity feels heavier than normal and my mind is drained as if I haven't slept at all. I look around the room and everything appears dreary, as if it is my normal bedroom, but grayscale. It's funny how something that I cannot remember can leave me with such a strange, empty feeling. The dream must have been pretty depressing. I take a moment to think about everything. I force myself to remember that everything is fine, now. I can finally relax and enjoy the best years of my life. That thought gives me the push I need to pull the warm covers off and roll my way out of bed.
      I look around the room for the cat. I don't see him, so it's safe to assume that he is outside or begging for bacon in the kitchen. I hobble out of the bedroom. I can hear Penelope on the other side of the house. I decide not to bug her right away. After a pit stop at the bathroom, I make my way to the office. I open the squeaky door to my sanctuary away from the world. I've gotten a whole lot of work done in here, I think to myself proudly while looking around at my dusty shelves of collectables and framed autographs of my favorite actors hanging majestically. I plop myself into my command center; a sixty dollar office chair and a desk I found at a yard sale for only forty. My desktop is not visible anywhere but directly in front of the chair, thanks to the heaping stacks of random sketches. I remember when they first contacted me about my casino project, I was in a panic trying to find the blueprints for it. Halfway into tearing my neatly organized office apart, the man on the phone told me they already had a copy. Obviously, I sent it to them in the first place. I was embarrassed, but too excited to let trip me up on the moment I've dreamed of. It had been years since I finished that project. There would have to be adjustments made, but once I accepted the job, they almost instantly wired me money. The adjustments they wanted were easy to make. Now that I am more experienced, it had only taken me two days. 
      I bring my attention to the cluttered table top before me. Somewhere under all the paper is a laptop that I save and edit my final drafts onto. For the most part, I enjoy hand drawing my sketches. Today I find that I have very little motivation to start a new sketch. Perhaps a bowl of pipe tobacco will help me relax and find the urge to create something. I know it isn't healthy, but it feels good and takes me back to a simpler time. Back when my grandfather was alive. Damn, he was a cool guy. I think about the stories he would tell me, as I push the tobacco into his old wooden pipe. He would tell me his epic tales while smoking from this exact same pipe. I remember just sitting on the floor, listening to him for hours. He would brag about surviving two tours as a fighter pilot in the Korean war. In his defense, this was a notable feat. This was the first war that the US had jet based fighter planes. Though the F-86 Sabre was a beast, it wasn't quite as user friendly as jets today. The life expectancy was really low and he survived two whole tours of going out into battle constantly! Even as a child, I could deeply respect that. I could never put myself into harm's way. I see myself freezing up and choking when it really counts. I finish burning through my tobacco and bring my attention to the scuffed wood of the desktop again. Maybe today isn't the day for architecture. I put my grandfather's wooden pipe back into its small box. In my mind, I thank him and tell him I miss him. What can I say? I'm a sentimental guy. I stand up and head to the kitchen to see the love of my life.
      For some reason, walking down the hallway triggers something that makes me remember a part of my nightmare. Just a small flash comes back to me. I can't seem to remember anything specific. I just remember being in a weird hall or passage of some kind. One side was a wall made of wood planks, the green paint on the wood is chipped and weathered, and the other side was