Rains, and absent parents. The gloom that had drifted its way into Isaac's mind had to go. The movies on television were sour and bleak of their own. It wasn't fair, he thought, that it wasn't appropriate to make fun of a cripple, but was just fine to air the most damp shows amongst the plethora of sad, damp shows before one who was weather-depressed. Every turn on the miserably slow timepieces that adorned the walls of his house made him feel worse. Worst part was, it wasn't even raining right now. It's just that the sky was a stark white, a dreary, awful shade which wasn't even a shade. Morning skies were white, evening skies were white. Afternoon skies, which were supposed to be the brightest yellow were also plain white. Isaac couldn't take it. The fitting music that he played on the speakers that lay a few feet from him was perhaps the only depressing element that he had some control of, but hey, everything was so sad anyway that it didn't really matter which song of unrequited love or song of poetic death he played.
Vacations. He'd rather be back in college, where the multitudes of folk, annoying though most were, would give him some relief. But he was here, back too early. All of his friends of old were still stuck in their respective institutions, answering some term-ending exam which would set them 'free'. He couldn't take it. His parents had left for work five minutes ago. Without much though, Isaac located the duplicate key of his mother's car which he had so carefully hidden amongst the old photoframes of ever-smiling and now ever-dead grandparents. He descended his stairs, and drove off, taking the long route to the second gate of his housing colony, for it was manned by the gruff and unresponsive guard Ismail instead of the cheerful Bradley, the latter of whom would definitely announce his departure to his mother, for she had befriended him by bringing him the leftovers of every meal. Isaac drove to that shady little establishment behind a tattered building which was notorious for selling alcohol and cigarettes to underage students, and there he purchased a pack of strong cigarettes. A twenty pack, although he knew he wouldn't even consume a quarter of that. He knew he'd be ridden with guilt soon into his second smoke.
He returned to his parents' apartment, latched the main door, and walked into the prayer-room. There he located the lighter that was used to light incense sticks or lamps before the face of his parents' many gods, and then climbed up a spiral staircase to the terrace above. The skies had cleared up temporarily, and he was going to take advantage of that fact. He wore only a sleeveless shirt, and nothing to cover his privates. He lit his first cigarette. What am I doing? He was done with it, and moved quickly before regret would wash over him. His head was already a bit fuzzy with the haste that he had put into every deep puff. He lit his second, and unconsciously started stroking his penis. The cigarette grew smaller, and his penis grew larger with every puff. Soon, he was in ecstasy. I'm not even thinking of her. He stubbed the cigarette and carefully placed it in the corner with the first. He lit another and started stroking his penis rapidly, as if to make up for the delay that the process of lighting the third had caused. His pre-ejaculatory semen covered his left hand, and the third cigarette soon descended into ash on his right hand. It burnt. That aroused him more.
It was raining. Without any warning, water was falling from the sky. He looked up in wonder. This was the one aspect of the rainy season that awed him most. Water falling from the sky! And there were barely any clouds! A sunbeam hit him square in the face, and he had to squint to understand the rainbow in the distance. He covered his cigarette to keep away the water. He was onto his fourth cigarette before he ejaculated onto himself and the ground below. Regret finally overcame him, and he prematurely stubbed his cigarette. He refilled the twenty-pack with the used up cigarettes, and tossed it far into the adjoining housing colony, although the wind blew it further than he'd have liked. There was still semen on the ground; there was still ash on the ground. His father was no fool when it came to semen and ash. But the hateful rain would cover up for him.
Vacations. He'd rather be back in college, where the multitudes of folk, annoying though most were, would give him some relief. But he was here, back too early. All of his friends of old were still stuck in their respective institutions, answering some term-ending exam which would set them 'free'. He couldn't take it. His parents had left for work five minutes ago. Without much though, Isaac located the duplicate key of his mother's car which he had so carefully hidden amongst the old photoframes of ever-smiling and now ever-dead grandparents. He descended his stairs, and drove off, taking the long route to the second gate of his housing colony, for it was manned by the gruff and unresponsive guard Ismail instead of the cheerful Bradley, the latter of whom would definitely announce his departure to his mother, for she had befriended him by bringing him the leftovers of every meal. Isaac drove to that shady little establishment behind a tattered building which was notorious for selling alcohol and cigarettes to underage students, and there he purchased a pack of strong cigarettes. A twenty pack, although he knew he wouldn't even consume a quarter of that. He knew he'd be ridden with guilt soon into his second smoke.
He returned to his parents' apartment, latched the main door, and walked into the prayer-room. There he located the lighter that was used to light incense sticks or lamps before the face of his parents' many gods, and then climbed up a spiral staircase to the terrace above. The skies had cleared up temporarily, and he was going to take advantage of that fact. He wore only a sleeveless shirt, and nothing to cover his privates. He lit his first cigarette. What am I doing? He was done with it, and moved quickly before regret would wash over him. His head was already a bit fuzzy with the haste that he had put into every deep puff. He lit his second, and unconsciously started stroking his penis. The cigarette grew smaller, and his penis grew larger with every puff. Soon, he was in ecstasy. I'm not even thinking of her. He stubbed the cigarette and carefully placed it in the corner with the first. He lit another and started stroking his penis rapidly, as if to make up for the delay that the process of lighting the third had caused. His pre-ejaculatory semen covered his left hand, and the third cigarette soon descended into ash on his right hand. It burnt. That aroused him more.
It was raining. Without any warning, water was falling from the sky. He looked up in wonder. This was the one aspect of the rainy season that awed him most. Water falling from the sky! And there were barely any clouds! A sunbeam hit him square in the face, and he had to squint to understand the rainbow in the distance. He covered his cigarette to keep away the water. He was onto his fourth cigarette before he ejaculated onto himself and the ground below. Regret finally overcame him, and he prematurely stubbed his cigarette. He refilled the twenty-pack with the used up cigarettes, and tossed it far into the adjoining housing colony, although the wind blew it further than he'd have liked. There was still semen on the ground; there was still ash on the ground. His father was no fool when it came to semen and ash. But the hateful rain would cover up for him.
