Mystic Elevator
Let's start with a cliche. -or- An ordinary morning.
It is Monday morning.
You wake up and rub the sleep from your eyes without the aid of an alarm. Glancing at the clock, you find that you are up a good ten minutes early.
Hanging your legs over the side of the bed you yawn and stretch out a bit before finally standing and making your way to the dresser. You grab the dress clothes that you will wear to work and head for the bathroom.
After a quick hot shower you shave, brush, and get dressed. Stepping out, you are hit suddenly with a comfortable chill of the cool air outside.
In the kitchen you cook bacon, eggs, and some toast. You take your time eating them, because you woke up ten minutes early and you have the time. Hell yeah.
After you've finished eating, you head for the door, stopping only to slip your shoes on before heading out. You lock the door and turn around to see the glorious day before you.
The morning is beautiful with its gold-beam-in-darkness pre-rise glory. Before you reach for the car door, however, you have the distinct feeling that you should not go to work today. It's almost like there is some kind of inner terror that is making itself known deep in your gut. There is something ominous on the horizon.
But that's just stupid. You're a grown man, for crying out loud.
Ignoring it, you keep moving. You open the car door, get in and start it. You tune into a shitty local morning radio show, and pull your car out of the drive.
As you drive, that hard gut feeling returns. You almost feel like you are getting some sort of premonition, and that what ever happens at work is going to be bad. You shake your head at this and attempt to reason with yourself. Maybe you just shouldn't have touched the beer last night. Perhaps that coldness in your stomach is nothing more than the beginning stages of the relaxing shit you get in the morning after having three or four beers the night before.
Or maybe you're just imagining it.
Something stupid like a "feeling" isn't going to stop you from going to work to earn a living, is it?
It is Monday morning.
You wake up and rub the sleep from your eyes without the aid of an alarm. Glancing at the clock, you find that you are up a good ten minutes early.
Hanging your legs over the side of the bed you yawn and stretch out a bit before finally standing and making your way to the dresser. You grab the dress clothes that you will wear to work and head for the bathroom.
After a quick hot shower you shave, brush, and get dressed. Stepping out, you are hit suddenly with a comfortable chill of the cool air outside.
In the kitchen you cook bacon, eggs, and some toast. You take your time eating them, because you woke up ten minutes early and you have the time. Hell yeah.
After you've finished eating, you head for the door, stopping only to slip your shoes on before heading out. You lock the door and turn around to see the glorious day before you.
The morning is beautiful with its gold-beam-in-darkness pre-rise glory. Before you reach for the car door, however, you have the distinct feeling that you should not go to work today. It's almost like there is some kind of inner terror that is making itself known deep in your gut. There is something ominous on the horizon.
But that's just stupid. You're a grown man, for crying out loud.
Ignoring it, you keep moving. You open the car door, get in and start it. You tune into a shitty local morning radio show, and pull your car out of the drive.
As you drive, that hard gut feeling returns. You almost feel like you are getting some sort of premonition, and that what ever happens at work is going to be bad. You shake your head at this and attempt to reason with yourself. Maybe you just shouldn't have touched the beer last night. Perhaps that coldness in your stomach is nothing more than the beginning stages of the relaxing shit you get in the morning after having three or four beers the night before.
Or maybe you're just imagining it.
Something stupid like a "feeling" isn't going to stop you from going to work to earn a living, is it?