A very short story writen by me some time ago and posted a little while ago on my personal short stories blog. Here goes The blue damn think by John Fiction, hope you like it:
It just so happened that I’ve been thinking about that little blue damn thing for a few days now. The sun was rising, the coffee boiling and other cinematic elements occurred, still I was unable to think straight for a single minute. Why was I thinking about that damn blasted thing and how come it came to mind after all this time. Of course, first I thought it was just a bad misunderstanding that my brain didn’t want to elude because all the recent events that have been trembling with my peaceful, quite life.
Descriptive as it may seem, the blue damn think is something like a topaz, only a little darker and much more elusive, its contours are undetermined in a way in which it seems endless and nothingness together.
Doorbell rings. It’s my mail. I’ve always wondered my sometimes the mailman comes to my door like most of the time he leaves the mail in the box, or I sometimes find it half torn on the buildings entry hall. No express, no nothing, but he still rings that awful-sound-ring-a-ding doorbell: bills, bills, and a letter. The envelope was blue. The tip of my fingers started to sweat and bits of the blue color soon merged with my skin.
I haven’t finished the second sentence when all of a sudden the room started to spin and twirl, and without knowing how I landed on a chair, next to a coffee table. I could still hear the coffee boiling, I was thinking that it was going to evaporate and I had to make some again. I placed the letter on the table and started to gaze at my hands. They were shaking. My eyes only perceived a blurry image and added to this was the trembling of my blue-tipped-hands, the sensations was almost tripping. I calmly placed my hands on the arms of the chair, and then it hit me:
I couldn’t remember what was the blue-damn-thing.
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