The Forgotten Follow story

Daniel B. Martin Daniel B. Martin

A love story of infinite misunderstanding, just like so many of the love stories we might find in our own lives. The Idea (Eyedeal) and real (Rheal) both fall in love and learn to tolerate each other. But how and what happens exactly you will have to read to find out!


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##idea ##real #philosophy #existential #storm #lightning #death #life #curious #idealistic #realistic #reality #literature #short story #existentialism #Daniel B. Martin #awesome #deep #intellectual #philosophic literature
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The Forgotten

  The Forgotten

By Daniel B. Martin
October 21, 2016

Part I
Puzzle Pieces

The gaps between the arms of the approaching storm gave, for a moment, the illusion of calmness. But when each arm made landfall it furiously unloaded its’ down-poor. Ricocheting droplets danced upon the roof while the doors and windows of the house shook as they tried to withstand the power of the howling gusts of wind which blew in each arm in turn.

There, sitting in the sill of an open window, sat a white porcelain vase. It had been there for some time. This evening was special; all it took was one incredibly strong gust to blow it over. It had seemed so stable -so permanent all of these months- but now, in one gust of wind on this one particular evening it was blown over. It fell and shattered into jagged fragments as it collided with the tile floor.

The sound of the crash made Eyedea jump. Her eyes were large and sparkled as her heart pounded with adrenaline. She was afraid of storms. They brought with them so much chaos- perhaps too much even. This meant that she usually hid during them, and in this case she had been hiding in the bathroom, seated upon her porcelain throne right under the window sill from which the vase fell. When it fell: not only did she jump up from her perch but she screamed as well! Loudly I might add. Rheal was in another room, heard her scream and quickly came running in bursting throught the door. He was terrified that something had happened to Eyedeal.

His first thoughts: ‘Was she hurt? Did something fall on her? He had thought as he made his way down the stairs towards her. ‘Hmm…’ He thought he had heard the scream coming from this area of the house. So without hesitation he thrust open the bathroom door. Only to find Eyedea sitting there on the toilet laughing- enamored by disbelief of the severity of her own reaction; and furthermore as to the animal it appeared to have re-inspired in him.

He did have something animal about him- all humans do. He was out of breath from rushing to her, “Is everything okay?” He desperately panted.

She giggled, “Yes, yes everything is okay. The wind blew and knocked over the vase. I was just humming my favorite song to myself”, no doubt to keep her distracted from the storm, “when it came hurling down. The sound made me jump and I missed the toilet a little bit. So you might want to watch where you step!” She was ecstatic with laughter. She was a mess, but such was the nature of Eyedea, to be a little bit messy.

Part II
The Missed Mark

“I’ll get the mop so you can clean it up.” Rheal said, as he was always encouraging Eyedea to clean up her own messes. It worked. Sometimes.., “You screamed so loud I thought someone had broken into the house! It nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Her heart fluttered with what felt like love, maybe it was just adoration. Or maybe, she was stranger and more lustful; anyways, “Oh Rheal! You are almost too thoughtful sometimes. You know what they say don’t you?” She forcibly and flirtatiously replied.

With an air of skeptic hesitation which vibrated out into the room through his bones. Rheal facetiously replied, “No what is that..?”

A huge smile spread its way across her somewhat angelic face. Eyedea always found glee in knowing something that she thought Rheal didn’t. “Whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger!” She proudly blurted out, still giggling.

With an insipid air of self-restraint, he stood there stroking the hairs on his goatee- creating the illusion of deep thought, he mirrored back, “And who might ‘They’ be who says this?”

It stopped raining again. The arm of the storm had passed. Eyedea had to think for a moment, “I don’t know… everyone. Whoever, it’s just a common phrase everyone knows it. Come on!” There was a sudden change, a drop to shrill- her voice trembled with agitation, perhaps due to her fear of storms. She was being honest, but she was frustrated.

“Ah I see! Tis indeed the ‘Twilight of the Idols’” And at that very moment a flash of lightning from outside illuminated the room through the window sill. Thunder shook the room and the barrier between the two grew larger. Eyedea and Rheal wanted to connect but were not going to be able to.

Eyedea was often aloof and disinterested in Rheal, and Rheal found that he far too frequently was over-concerned with Eyedea. Yet something in life forced them together, and now they seem bound in some strange and uncomfortable way. Completely codependent- completely both completed by -and deeply scarred by- each other. Though they were opposites there was some kind of attraction; which by nature was inevitable.

Eyedea was confused to say the least, “What do you mean the ‘Twighlight of the Idols’?”

“Pull your pants up so you don’t look ridiculous and come with me, I will show you before you clean this mess you made up.” And he extended out his hand to help Eyedea get off the pot. Eyedea was not ready, nor was Eyedea really ready to settle herself with the reality of Rheal.

She didn’t accept, she was not ready to because she was still afraid of the storm. Her fear was indeed her own problem but it offended Rheal. IT felt to him like she was rejecting him. She wasn’t about to approach the disagreement and potential miscommunication as openly and truthfully as you might expect of her.

So he ran off outside anyways- without her. As he spilled himself onto the wet lawn and became drenched as he was consumed by nature manifested as the wind blowing the rain which fell upon his face and body. Eyedea, like I said had stayed inside where it was safe and dry…

‘Was she angry or scared?’ she thought to herself. But she didn’t know because she, in truth- had no idea either! Another strike of lightning illuminated the window as she stood there. Her feet anxiously placed upon the cold tiles. The smell of pee filled the air and tiny sharp shards of porcelain poked into the bottom of her feet as she gazed deeply at herself in the mirror.

We find that she was admiring her own beauty- as another means of escaping consciousness of the ferocious storm. The very same storm which Rheal had run into so willingly, so freely, and with such unnoticed and unseen passion- which he just as quickly would have shared with her as he would have wasted it. But it was not going to be accepted as it really was, not without submitting to the conformity of Eyedea’s ideas rather than Rheal’s reality.

Part III
Twilight Screams of Idols and Accidents

The bolt struck very close to the house, and its thunder was loud- so loud that she couldn’t hear the scream from outside. A scream which rung for very real reasons. She had been hardly existing, just standing there gazing at the mirror.

Was she waiting for something to happen?- or was she trying to figure out all of life without ever taking her eyes of her ideas?; off of what she thought she was strong enough to have imagined things to be and become on her own- without the complex and confusing contingencies that Rheal and his reality insisted be placed upon her ideas?

This scream came from Rheal. It was a scream which was unheard by accident of choice- which carries the illusion of being a coincidence. He had been struck by the lightning. Unseen by Eyedea because she had chosen to say inside his wet body jolted as a hundred kilovolts riveted through his body. It seized him and shook him violently as the power of nature and of the planet overwhelmed the power of his being.

It was intense, marvelous, and short lived because like in every great existential tale- it killed him. And later once that arm of the storm had passed Eyedea finally got the courage she had been lacking, and she stepped away from herself and the mirror.

She called out to Rheal but he was nowhere in earshot. She figured he must still be outside dancing in the rain. She grabbed her flashlight and began waving it around the yard while she hollered for him. No response. She stepped out further onto the wet grass when she noticed a dark huddled mass.

She wandered towards it. In a flash of her light the beam brought Eyedea into the clear realization that it was Rheal- only Rheal was dead. Rheal was nothing- not anymore. On that evening even angels shed their tears. The harps and trumpets rung out in heavenly decree; but at this point there was nothing Eyedea could do to help the matter. Not without having have allowed Rheal to have first helped Eyedea.

The idea caught up to the reality a little too late, and the reality had changed. But Eyedea never forgot, never forgot what reality was… and decided to never again forget how quickly what is Rheal can change while you are fuddling about with your confused idealistic existence. Wasting it on your own vanity, disallowing the self to confront their own confusion, how would you not suffer a lack of acceptance of ‘what is’ in contrast to what is but only in your ‘wildest dreams’?

The End.

Oct. 24, 2016, 12:42 a.m. 0 Report Embed 0
The End

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