So it begins. Sitting/lying on the couch, laptop in hand, words just fly. Nice not to be constrained to the desk. 2234 words in 1.5 hours. The words just flew.
Music: Peeping Tom Peeping Tom and ...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead Worlds Apart
He stands outside, a desolate field, upstate New York, long abandoned. Once farmed, tended, cared for, not unlike the man himself, the field now forgotten and barren, not unlike the man himself. The clouds above one solid mass of gray, unbroken for as far as he can see; the silence above and around one solid mass of gray, unbroken for as far as he can hear. It has been a long time since he has heard anything except for the never ending thoughts in his head, unceasing and merciless, a cycle of noise that he would pay a king's ransom to end. There is no peace in his mind, no peace for this old man, not what he expected in his old age. He has made it 60 years to this point, hoping to find some sort of solace in quiet and yet there is none to be found.
His eyes turn to the sky; the only sign of life for miles are black birds reeling and plummeting in the gray. Ravens? Crows? Sparrows. Each one no bigger than his fists clenched at his side, futile anger in his blood which causes tics and gasps when it reaches his heart, then pumping back out as unclean and impure as it was moments before. The birds swoop low and then careen back into the sky, dots swirling about his head, always dots, always dots.
His eyes turn to the sky; the only sign of life for miles are black birds reeling and plummeting in the gray. Ravens? Crows? Sparrows. Each one no bigger than his fists clenched at his side, futile anger in his blood which causes tics and gasps when it reaches his heart, then pumping back out as unclean and impure as it was moments before. The birds swoop low and then careen back into the sky, dots swirling about his head, always dots, always dots.
No comments:
Post a Comment