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|Salvation (standard:other, 1226 words)|
|Author: Nick||Added: Dec 07 2002||Views/Reads: 2406/1147||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|It is about a young man and the 23rd of December.|
I am awakened by music coming from my stereo. The Samples sing Summertime but nothing could be farther from the truth. It is seven o`clock on the twenty third of December, holidays just begun and I am a little hungover from a party yesterday a friend of mine gave, to celebrate these holy days. I do not turn off the music and just lay still in my bed, listening. And all the truth is founded on lies. Enjoying that for once I do not have to get up and fight through an endlessly seeming day full of insecurity and genuine sadness. It is Christmas time, I am alive, I have friends and I am wealthy enough to forget that there are people dying, starving, freezing to death in this very moment, even in this country, that the suicide rate over these days is the highest in the year and that our planet gets destroyed more with every minute. I am one of the privileged people, who can afford to live these days the way our religion or society thought they should be, by giving, helping, celebrating the birth of our saviour and the most important forgetting about my own problems. Because in the end all of our sins will be forgiven and we will be redeemed. "What a big lie", I think to myself as I slowly open my eyes, afraid that some lost sunbeam may hit them and ravage my head. But nothing happens, no piercing pain explodes in my head and forces me to close my eyes again, they just feel a little dry and I only sense some pulsating vein on my forehead. In the obscure twilight of an early December morning, I walk past my room with nothing on except my boxers, to the light switch and turn it on. My room lights up but that is the only thing that happens. I am relieved. I would not have been looking forward to a day full of headaches and depressing dark rooms. I swallow some painkillers as a precaution, even though I know that I do not really need them. Then I walk to my stereo and turn it off. The last sung line stays in the air for an uncomfortable long time. And all the truth is founded on lies. It is always hardest to get in a solemn mood in the morning, when everything is still dark and cold and the festive Christmas decorations have been turned off. It always reminds me of a song, which title and lyrics I forgot, but the memory of their sense seem so depressing and for the worst so appropriate. I leave my room, take a long shower, get dressed and then go to the kitchen. In every room I pass I turn on the light. Before I eat break-fast I go outside and want to turn on my Christmas decorations, just to learn that I forgot to turn them off last night. I go back inside. When I close the door I shiver a little. It is colder outside than I thought. I eat something. As I am finished I take a look at the kitchen clock. In big, blinking, green glowing letters it says 8:30 a.m.. The problem with getting up early in holidays is, that no one else does. So without something to do I decide to go to church. (It is not really a spontaneous decision. It is more something like tradition out of boredom. Christmas has been the only time in year my family went to church. But that every year.) It takes huge amounts of good will to call it church though. It is more a little chapel hidden between gigantic skyscrapers. It takes me half an hour to get there and some bigger more beautiful churches would have been nearer to my place, but tradition demands to go to this one. The mass is pretty boring and I think I even fall asleep once or twice. "Do you always sleep in churches?" I start up from sleep and look straight in two bright, brown eyes. I am unable to answer the question the girl next to me asked. The moment gets unbearably long, seconds begin to stretch and seem like hours. I look around. The mass is over and except for an old women, who is sitting in the front row, praying and the girl next to me, everyone has already left. Smiling she asks again: "Do you often sleep in churches?" "Only on Christmas." I manage to answer, still half asleep. "Because this is the only time in year I go to church" Click here to read the rest of this story (47 more lines)
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