Inner Peace
Inner Peace
Written by Cody Doerhoefer
Rain was slapping hard against the window. As the rain pattering continued, powerful booms of thunder shook the old house. A younger man sat in his bedroom reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula. While sipping on a glass of iced water, the man lit a candle because the sky outside continued to be engulfed in an infinite darkness. The only lighting for the man’s reading was the small candle and the continuous bright flashes of light from the lightning outside of his window. This was the perfect atmosphere for the man to start his novel, he thought.
The man glanced up at the clock, and to his displeasure it was almost four. Slamming his book, he mouthed the words, “fuck.” He quickly got dressed for work and tossed his clothes lazily to the side of his bed. He slips his paperback copy of Dracula into his coat pocket. The man walks through his house without glancing either direction, headed straight for the door.
Stepping outside into the storm, the man immediately began to sprint. The crisp, chilled rain hit hard against his face as he ran through the streets. When he reached his destination he slammed through the door of the grocery store he often referred to as “hell.” The store consisted of only 5 lanes for customer checkout, 2 of them currently occupied by high school girls with their faces glued to their cell phones. The light fixtures in the back were flickering, likely due to the storm raging outside.
His boss stood directly in front of him with a very disapproving look on his face. He was a short, fat man. He had tiny eyes and a giant mouth that rarely provided a grin. His eyebrows sat low on his forehead, as if they were trying to invade his eyelids. Dripping water on the floor, the man greeted his boss in an unenthusiastic way.
“You’re late, Fisher. What’s up with you lately?” his fat-faced boss stated.
“I know, sorry.” Fisher responded, as he walked slowly to the checkout counter to start his shift of
Written by Cody Doerhoefer
Rain was slapping hard against the window. As the rain pattering continued, powerful booms of thunder shook the old house. A younger man sat in his bedroom reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula. While sipping on a glass of iced water, the man lit a candle because the sky outside continued to be engulfed in an infinite darkness. The only lighting for the man’s reading was the small candle and the continuous bright flashes of light from the lightning outside of his window. This was the perfect atmosphere for the man to start his novel, he thought.
The man glanced up at the clock, and to his displeasure it was almost four. Slamming his book, he mouthed the words, “fuck.” He quickly got dressed for work and tossed his clothes lazily to the side of his bed. He slips his paperback copy of Dracula into his coat pocket. The man walks through his house without glancing either direction, headed straight for the door.
Stepping outside into the storm, the man immediately began to sprint. The crisp, chilled rain hit hard against his face as he ran through the streets. When he reached his destination he slammed through the door of the grocery store he often referred to as “hell.” The store consisted of only 5 lanes for customer checkout, 2 of them currently occupied by high school girls with their faces glued to their cell phones. The light fixtures in the back were flickering, likely due to the storm raging outside.
His boss stood directly in front of him with a very disapproving look on his face. He was a short, fat man. He had tiny eyes and a giant mouth that rarely provided a grin. His eyebrows sat low on his forehead, as if they were trying to invade his eyelids. Dripping water on the floor, the man greeted his boss in an unenthusiastic way.
“You’re late, Fisher. What’s up with you lately?” his fat-faced boss stated.
“I know, sorry.” Fisher responded, as he walked slowly to the checkout counter to start his shift of