Reality Check- A short story

Reality Check

A story by DJ

This story is based off of the novel A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness, which I have reviewed previously.

The link to my review of A Monster Calls is here:

https://djsstories17.blogspot.com/2022/11/a-monster-calls-by-patrick-ness-book.html

It was 12:07 am when Conor finished the book he was reading and went off to bed. Yet even in bed and even at such a late hour, he found that he could not fall asleep; The words on the last page of the book were still ringing in his mind, haunting him. The simple phrase kept Conor awake, and he could not put it out of his mind even though he desperately tried to sleep. At last Conor grew tired of trying to push the words out, and he simply surrendered- he fell asleep at once. 

Rrrring! Rrrring! Rrrring!

Conor, still mostly asleep, unconsciously stretched his arm out for the alarm.

Click.

It was half past eleven when Conor finally woke up and groggily got out of bed- he nearly did a double take when he happened to glance at the clock after washing. Startled awake, he hurried to cram his things into his bag, unfinished homework and all, and zoomed out of the house on his bicycle without even eating anything. As he pedaled furiously to school past the old yew tree, he suddenly realized he had school clothes on- he must have put them on without thinking or something. 'Oh well', he thought, 'At least I'm presentable.'

A few minutes later, he had screeched to a halt in front of Westley Middle School and dashed into class with his heart threatening to burst. “Hi, Conor,” smiled Ms. Lang, the English teacher. “I thought you weren't coming today again.” 

Conor was bewildered. Again? He had never missed school as long as he could remember. 

“When was the last time I was absent, Ms. Lang?” Conor asked, rather politely. 

“Two days ago, and the day before that,” replied Ms. Lang with a confused expression on her face. “You missed quite an interesting lesson, Conor.”

Absent two days in a row? Conor had never done such a thing. Plopping onto his seat, he remembered— it was Tuesday today! Of course he had been absent two days ago and the day before that, it was the weekend! Inwardly laughing, Conor opened his bag and took out his English notebook. He couldn't find his book, though- he must have forgotten to pack it in his rush. When was the next time his class had library period? He turned to the calendar on the board—and his jaw dropped. 

Friday? How could it be Friday? Yet the date was today, November 12, and the calendar said Friday. 

“Hey, what day is it today?” Conor asked Bree, who sat next to him. 

“November 12,” she replied. 

“No, I mean the day of the week.”

“Oh, it's Friday.”

Thoroughly bewildered, Conor started looking through his English notebook. All his notes from yesterday were there- but it was marked Thursday, and then the date skipped back to Monday. He had really been absent on Tuesday and Wednesday, and it hadn't been the weekend! He had stayed home on the wrong day!

But thinking about it, that just wasn't possible- everyone knows what day of the week it is every day, and Conor was beyond sure that it had been Monday yesterday. What had happened to his world? Was he in an alternate universe? Was he not real ? A phrase from a book he had read years ago suddenly came back to him: “ The missing aren't missing, they're only departed.” Was he one of the departed? If he was departed, was he missing in his own world? Was it even that he had entered another world? Had he changed or the world changed? What else was different if the world had changed? Was it only the days of the week or were there other, more important changes?

Was he lost in this world?

Was he alone?

Was he gone?

Did he even exist in real life?

What was real life?

Could he exist but not live?

Inversely, could he live but not exist?

He could not see the concerned looks his friends were giving him, he could not hear the teacher calling his name, he could not feel the ground beneath his feet. 

If he was lost in himself so much that he could not receive any sensory input, was his whole self only made of thought?

Did thought exist?

Was man only comprised of behavior and nothing more?

Then why do people sometimes act opposite to our intentions?

Was that not proof that thought did exist?

If thought did exist, could it exist alone and independent of anything?

If it could, was that also life?

Could consciousness itself also be called life?

Conor was so tired. He was mentally and physically exhausted, weary, drained, fatigued, tired, so tired of holding everything in for so long all alone.

He felt something on his shoulder, like cold fingers, and he snapped out of his reverie. Slowly turning around, his face gradually brightened. 

There it stood with a smile on its face, the great yew tree Conor had missed for so long. 

“I have come for you, Conor O'Malley,” it spoke in its deep and rumbling, yet soothing voice. “I have come for you, and I know. I know. And it's okay.”

Upon hearing those last words Conor ran into the monster's arms, and the monster embraced Conor in his huge hands, making a nest for Conor to rest.

Conor woke up gasping in his room, and as he came down he felt the again-familiar crunch of yew leaves beneath his feet. Looking out the window at the old yew tree, he smiled. 

The yew tree seemed to smile back at him.