Dust

Dust

Robin Foale, 10/4/2013

Dust, dust is what they say caused it all. The change, the miracle, the curse, whatever the hell you want to call it. I am one of the lucky, well, if you can call it that to survive the dust. I'm also lucky to still have parents that still live and love me. Because my 'change' wasn't anything serious. The military said I could stay with them, my mum and dad that is, as well as the cat if you're counting her as well. I just had to agree to regular blood transfusions and a drug. It's a small pill, pink in colour and round in design, it looks like a bubble-gum ball. Thus its not surprising we call it that, bubble-gum. After all, it makes taking it a little bit easier when we don't call it by its true name. But enough about that, I would rather not remind myself of that this morning. Speaking of which, I should be waking up in a minute. I know the sun will rise and its rays will pass through my paper thin curtains. They will proceed to wake me up at the usual time, precisely 6:27. Why that time? I never understand. It's not like I want to wake up early and it's not a well-rounded time. Not an hour, or a half, I count the seconds until I wake.
20 seconds, the sun starts to rise. 
40 seconds, the sun shines through my curtains and hits the bottom of my bed.
A minute and the light has hit my eyes. 
I am awake.  

Ashes to ashes... Dust to dust... That's how the saying goes isn't it? 

Regardless, it's a new day and I plan to make it a good one. Pill or no pill...

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The above idea started simply as a story of me waking up. However, I decided to add the idea of dust affecting the world in some shape or form as I have had my parents complain in the past that I wasn't dusting my room enough.