sean conley short stories


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walking 2005

Walking home in the rain again. It seems that my car always breaks down on rainy days, or nights for this matter. It was definitely night. The rain I got used to, but the darkness was something that was constantly changing. I couldn’t get my eyes to adjust to it. The dark all around seems to envelop you after a while. Walking alone, you have nothing else to do but think. This is while you count your footsteps. Soggy, rhythmic steps. Squish Squish Squish Squish. Continuous. You begin to think, and the steps put you in some sort of a trance. Then the darkness takes over and becomes part of you. You lose track of time, of reality. You forget about walking. You don’t even realize you’re doing it anymore. It is as if your body has switched onto autopilot, but you never touched the switch. The same thing happens when you are driving and you begin to think about something, and that something makes you visualize a person, or story that is connected to that thought. Before you know it, you are in a daze, and these thoughts have chained together and you are gone. It is only when you think about something that relates back to your original thought or the thought of driving that you then realize you are driving. You come back to reality and wonder how long you have been gone. Seconds, minutes? This is the place that you go when your thoughts connect and your body just functions. This place is where your mind leads you; it is where you can escape, if there was only a way to tap into this place whenever you wanted to, while still conscious. Freeing your mind whenever you needed to. Daydreaming is one of those forms. But daydreaming occurs when you are bored most of the time. There is just something about rhythm and routine that causes your mind to wander. Maybe your mind becomes so bored with these tasks that it wants to do something else. Therefore, your mind separates from your body. And your body, being so used to this task, can continue on without something telling it what to do. Does this mean we are like machines? In this case, can our mind function on other tasks while our body does a more complex task? Can we operate a machine while our minds carry on complex conversations about statistics, graphs, or instructions while talking on a phone? Is it possible that we have yet to fully use our mind, and all of its capabilities? The problem is, do we want to? Or not do we want to, but can we trust ourselves with the possibility of this. But how would we train someone to do this, or is it possible to train the mind? Or is it even worth the time and effort that would have to put into such an endeavor?

A car approaches me. The lights temporarily blind me. The hum of the engine roars as it passes. In the distance, the faint sound of the water from the street being spun around the tire and flung back out again. How long have I been walking? I didn’t see or hear the car coming. But now I am alone again. I shuffle my car keys in my pocket, and now they begin to jingle when I walk. I remembered counting my footsteps. When had I stopped counting? It must have been long ago, before I passed the first of three houses I have seen since I started walking. Did I lock my doors? I hadn’t thought of it before, I can’t remember. I just remember the car dying, and getting out and walking. It could be my battery. It could be dead, or maybe my alternator. This is probably because my battery is old. I haven’t replaced it since I bought the car two and half years ago. If the battery is not charging anymore, it only gives the power it has left from the previous charge to the alternator. If the alternator is not keeping a charge, and just dies, everything will shut off. It has to be one of these two things. Maybe I should have stayed with the car, and waited for someone to drive by, flagged them down and asked if they would jump my car off. There wasn’t a car in sight at the time, and what are the chances of them actually stopping, especially at this time of night. If I am walking, I am at least heading somewhere. Maybe I should have stopped at one of the houses. But I distinctly remember there not being any cars in the driveways. Besides, who would come to the door so late at night? I don’t want to wake anyone up, or disturb someone. They have work in the morning. I know how I am if I don’t get a full night’s sleep. I check my watch, 3:30. I'm not tired. I should be. But there isn’t a safe place for me to sleep, and I doubt I could go to sleep, especially not knowing where I am. I need to find a place. The rain has died down, but is still sprinkling. I am beyond wet now. My shirt is sticking to my body. It 's so tight on my body; I watched my chest go up and down. I had forgotten about my legs. They have been walking non-stop, like machines underneath me. My pants have clung to my legs, and make it harder to walk. My legs don’t even feel like they are a part of my body anymore. They are just two units, working in unison, without me. They are detached from my body, and are working on their own. This is fine with me, as long as they get me to where I am going. Where am I going? Have I forgotten, or did the thought never enter my mind? Maybe I assumed that I would think of something as I was walking, but I have managed to think of everything but that.

the beginning 2007

He couldn’t remember her name.
But her face was as clear as a photograph.
However, without a name, he could not find her.
Stuck.
With nothing else to do, he put the phone back on the hook, and slid the worn phone book back in its cubby.
He slowly stepped backwards and out of the booth.
The rain was harder and colder than before.
He pulled his hood over his head and continued walking.
Within a few steps, his socks were soaked.

He could feel the cold creeping up through his toes, like walking barefoot in wet grass.

this is just the beginning, he told himself.

(the following are excerpts from cease upon the capitol tour diary june-july 2007)

Alone with the Onions 2007

I can’t get this onion taste out of my mouth.
No matter how much cheap swedish chocolate I keep shoving in my mouth.
I spent 35 krowns on it yesterday and I’m down to the stuff I didn’t mean to scoop up and put in the bag.
You can’t try the candy before you buy it.
The filafel I had earlier was 5 krowns, cheaper than the ones I usually get, but I’d pay the extra 5 not to have this aftertaste.
I’m sitting here on the balcony, listening to mono and watching the rain fall down on the malmö streets.
At least it’s peaceful I say out loud, but even I am having trouble convincing myself of that.
It’s the first rain we’ve had in 4 or 5 days, I guess it’s a good change.
I like rain, it makes everyone disappear, and everything becomes quiet.
So I can sit by the door of the balcony and read, alone, with only the sound of water hitting pavement and the metal of the cars parked below.
I glance out and notice the trees, the sidewalks, and the sky without any distractions.
It’s nice not to hear the sounds of people, laughing, yelling, singing, all in Swedish.
They’re all inside their homes with their eyes glued to the television watching re-runs of shitty American tv shows.
Or maybe they’re staring outside, waiting for the rain to stop, so at least they will have something to do.
Rain forces people to be unproductive, or is it productive, I can’t tell either way.
I don’t mind, I like watching the outside from the inside, it’s easier that way.
Regardless, I would still be sitting here, watching the rain, alone.
Due to certain circumstances, however, I happen to be here, watching the rain, alone
in sweden.

malmö 2007

i stopped writing in my journal today.
instead I downed the last of the peach tea and put the empty glass back in the fridge,
maybe for later i told myself.
my swedish girlfriend saw me do this.
"What’s wrong with you?" she asked.
"I wish I knew," I told her.
"But when I find out, you will be the first to know."
she shrugged, kissed me and walked out the door for work.
i went back to my book by the open door of the balcony.
i didn’t even notice when the music stopped playing, the rain had taken over.
i stumbled into the kitchen, looking for something to eat.
i’m annoyed by hunger. the everyday task of feeding my own body is getting old.
i opened the creaky cabinet and scanned the pantry from top to bottom.
it was as if my stomach was telling my eyes," i don’t give a shit, just pick something."
she hid the cookies from me, or maybe from the cat; they used to be sitting on the counter.
i ate the last one.
i found stale popcorn in a bowl from last night.
the salt isn’t stale, i told myself as i ate them three at a time.
the cat was asleep on top of the alarm clock by the windowsill.
it was then that i noticed the alarm clock was seven hours ahead.
if it was my clock, i would have changed it.
but seeing as how i was in someone else's apartment, in another country, i didn’t think it would be right going around changing things.
i finished the popcorn but still felt a void in my stomach.
i wanted cookies.
one thing i do miss from america, from home, are easy bake chocolate chip cookies.
i've looked everywhere, they just don’t have them in sweden.
they didn’t have them in germany, holland, france, denmark, or belgium either.
i ’ve been gone for thirty three days now, and my immediate thoughts of missing home are encompassed by easy bake cookies.
i found a crumpled up bag that appeared to have candy in it.
the cat woke up, and after trying to stick its face into my glass relocated herself to outside on the balcony.
she looked confused, as if she had never seen or felt rain before.
something frightened her and she dashed back in, under my legs and into the hall.
i keep taking candy out of this seemingly endless bag.
i don’t even look inside anymore, i like the surprise i get when my hand comes out with a different colored piece of sugar, sometimes even chocolate.
it’s still raining outside, the same intensity. it seems as if it will never stop.
the rhythmic pings of the raindrops bouncing on different sides of the hollow balcony railing are comforting.
i don’t want it to stop.
i finished my book and picked up another one.
when it rains, no matter where you are, there is not much else to do but read.
here's to another rainy sunday afternoon.