Friday, August 09, 2002
Darkness In The Valley
A shade of sunlight drifts across the sky, illuminating the clouds in color and casting strange shadows upon the sidewalk. This is not my planet. This is not my time. This is not where I belong. Her concious is drifting between here and there, the real world and some far away place that she can barely remember. Why is this different? Should it not be the same? The uneasiness and discomfort well up stronger than ever and she tries to settle herself but somehow she can't and now she wonders what is wrong with herself. Music. I'll listen to music. Music to soothe the soul. But the ploy does not work and her thoughts become a furious deluge of broken and twisted logic:
the power lines. why am i afraid of them? why do they plague me so? this fear, this irrational fear, i feel terror. oh, but then the sound, the sound of crackling, over and over again, over and over again, the crackling...the fire. the smoke. the terror. the fright. so it's finally happened. the dream. i was not prepared. that is what i get for not listening to them. to the shadows. for telling mortals of their secrets. why did i think this? why on earth would that ever cross my mind? the dream, the dream of fire. the flames licking at my skin, at my clothing. but i am dead then, and i see it in the middle of the fire. my concious snuffed out by smoke until nothing more is left of it, slowly dying like HAL, drifting and becoming nothing. fitting for evil. demons. they are there, awaiting, for something, a takeover of souls and i'm part of it. and the floor drops from beneath me but i'm still on the wall. i'm still on the wall, stuck to it, as i see all of them, all of those poor people sucked down into nothingness....
Her head snaps back to attention. She is confused. She does not know where she is...she knows that she is here, but she still can't believe it. She grasps her coffee cup and swigs down the last of the cold forgotten coffee. She sips at her water, but as she does this, her eyes close and she sees something. Something wicked. "'That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet'," says the voice, clear as day, "but for you my dear, I think it would smell sweeter." Her hand looses contact with the plastic glass, sending it straight down to the concrete below. For a moment, there is no space and time for her, she is suspended in a dream world...until water splashes across her feet and her eyes pop open, afraid that anyone has seen her. She picks up the cup, slowly packs her things, puts away all that needs to be put away. Her feet, of their own volition, move into the dimly lit bar to drown the brain in alcohol so that what happens is never remembered again.....
A shade of sunlight drifts across the sky, illuminating the clouds in color and casting strange shadows upon the sidewalk. This is not my planet. This is not my time. This is not where I belong. Her concious is drifting between here and there, the real world and some far away place that she can barely remember. Why is this different? Should it not be the same? The uneasiness and discomfort well up stronger than ever and she tries to settle herself but somehow she can't and now she wonders what is wrong with herself. Music. I'll listen to music. Music to soothe the soul. But the ploy does not work and her thoughts become a furious deluge of broken and twisted logic:
the power lines. why am i afraid of them? why do they plague me so? this fear, this irrational fear, i feel terror. oh, but then the sound, the sound of crackling, over and over again, over and over again, the crackling...the fire. the smoke. the terror. the fright. so it's finally happened. the dream. i was not prepared. that is what i get for not listening to them. to the shadows. for telling mortals of their secrets. why did i think this? why on earth would that ever cross my mind? the dream, the dream of fire. the flames licking at my skin, at my clothing. but i am dead then, and i see it in the middle of the fire. my concious snuffed out by smoke until nothing more is left of it, slowly dying like HAL, drifting and becoming nothing. fitting for evil. demons. they are there, awaiting, for something, a takeover of souls and i'm part of it. and the floor drops from beneath me but i'm still on the wall. i'm still on the wall, stuck to it, as i see all of them, all of those poor people sucked down into nothingness....
Her head snaps back to attention. She is confused. She does not know where she is...she knows that she is here, but she still can't believe it. She grasps her coffee cup and swigs down the last of the cold forgotten coffee. She sips at her water, but as she does this, her eyes close and she sees something. Something wicked. "'That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet'," says the voice, clear as day, "but for you my dear, I think it would smell sweeter." Her hand looses contact with the plastic glass, sending it straight down to the concrete below. For a moment, there is no space and time for her, she is suspended in a dream world...until water splashes across her feet and her eyes pop open, afraid that anyone has seen her. She picks up the cup, slowly packs her things, puts away all that needs to be put away. Her feet, of their own volition, move into the dimly lit bar to drown the brain in alcohol so that what happens is never remembered again.....
# posted by Crazy Girl @ 15:18 
