The Hour
The Hour stories
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mccandlessCommunity member
Autoplay OFF  •  a day ago
A short story about morning.

The Hour

It is 2:40 in the A.M. You awake in a tumbling haze. You look outside your window. The streetlights shine like torches in a garden. The sky blooms with stars and clouds the size of continents.

You look at the backyard, making out an image of large ants crawling on delicate flowers. You think about them.

Then that thought has a brother: what is it like to be an insect?

You realize that when you look at an ant, when you see their shining black eye, you see the face of God, and everything is from God.

You go outside and look at the daunting moon, wondering what it is like to walk on it, a thought that makes you feel small or insignificant.

You are cold, and you wonder what it’s like to be inside the sun.

You find a pack of matches and place your bare feet into the pool. Lighting the matches, you think about all the people that you have said you hated.

But then you realize that they never hated you. You realize that holding on to hate is like clenching a burning coal and expecting the other person to get burned.

You think about the rest of your childhood, about your parents and siblings.

Eventually, you have lit all of the matches, so you dry your feet and go back inside.

The blue hue of morning begins to creep in throughout the house, through the glass doors and rooms.

You decide that you want to read a book, and holding it in one hand, you think about the future.

You picture the lack of assumptions, foreshadowing, judgement. The abundance of care, compliments, approval.

You picture all of the world living for friendship, forgiving, and holding hands in harmony.

What more can the heart of a friend desire?

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