Bugs everywhere, on the dinning table, on the TV, in the bathroom; they jump, fly and crawl, he's bare foot and the only thing he has is a heavy phone book. He kills that one, but then another jumps on him, he smashes the TV with the phone book, his hand is cut and blood starts gushing out, the bugs get into a frenzy as they feel and smell the flow of moist, fresh and inviting red blood. For a moment in time silence overcomes the situation as the bugs assess the situation, then they all, in unison, jump on him.
"Ahhhh," he cries out as he opens his eyes and realize that it was a nightmare. He looks at the alarm, it is 5 O'clock in the morning; three hours of sleep, a personal record. He brushes his teeth, prays and then decides to go stand on the terrace. A fresh cold breeze greets him, announcing the end of a blazing hot summer and the beginning of fall. He smiles as the cold wind tickles his face and then a thought materializes. He decides to go jogging so as to feel the pleasant weather to the fullest. He quickly puts on his jogging pants and shoes, but decides to go running in the same T-shirt he had slept in. He checks that he's got his iPod, key and mobile; check, check and check.
He was met with a darkness that only showed a glimmer of light, indicating in hesitance that a change was eminent. He breathed in the cold unpolluted air and let it glide all over him; he had always found that the cold was reviving, it was certainly the only thing that made him feel alive, the way it made his skin shiver and his heart beat was something he felt only one other time. He stretched his back and legs, then started jumping to warm up a bit and as soon as he felt the blood rushing through him, he began to gently start running. The song that played was of a light, mellow tempo; it wasn't too aggressive, and neither was it too slow, but just the right tempo to encourage, but not hype up, something that prevents lagging, but dis-invites rushing, it resembled a well planned beginning.
He was greeted by the full moon, it seemed so white in contrast with the blue black sky of the early morning. He had always loved the full moon, it was just so honest and there for everyone to see, it hid nothing. He thought of the moon in its cycles, sometimes it wouldn't be seen at all, sometimes it's just a slither, other times it only shows half, but at times like these, it shows itself completely, for everyone to see; completely vulnerable and enchantingly beautiful . He thought that people should be like that; we can't show our true selves all the time, but every now and then, for those who deserve it, we should be our complete and utter self, with no limitations. He had always believed in this, but never had the chance to realize it in his own life; people never gave him a chance to reach that stage and every he'd fail, he would move further away from this point. He was so far away that he had lost hope in it being reached, ever.
He jumped on puddles of water; it must have rained the night before. His nose picked up the smell of freshly cleansed tree leaves, he smiled, remembering that one winter he had spent in Scotland. It was freezing cold, but everyday he'd put on his heaviest clothes and go walking up any hill he could find and every time he'd reach the top, he would feel revived and reborn. He craved that feeling of realization so much that the cold ceased to bother him; he'd feel its effect on his trembling fingers and soaking wet toes, but through conjuring thoughts of "mind over matter", he easily brushed the debilitating thoughts away and focused on reaching that top. It was one unforgettable winter.
His phone started to ring, but he couldn't hear it; he did feel the vibration in his pocket. He decided to ignore it; the jog was too important, too good, too reviving to be cut short. However, it continued to ring, once more, twice more, thrice...he picked it up.
Silence met him. He checked the phone, the line was still connected.
Silence once more and then the other phone hung up. The number was unknown and so there was no way he could find out who had called him. The clock indicated that it was 7 o'clock, he'd been running for an hour and a half; he had only intended to run for 45 minutes, time slipped by and he was going to be late for work. He hurried to reach his home, saying goodbye to one cold and perfect morning as the sun blazed through the autumn clouds.