"Hmph"
The slim steel blade swims about the high noon breeze, twirling up the hill and through the battered stone ruins.... Louder.... Faster.... The theater resumes, setting for the art gallery of a burning storm.... The brush dries, permitting the weapon to slumber.... Brittle film snaps and crumbles to the ground with the ending squall.... The beautiful view of flesh dripping away graces his fragile eyes.... Numerous forms plop the the fertile soil.... A small solid white ball rolls by his sandal momentarily before burning away....
"I won't find anything here...."
His first foot back on path is interrupted.... Agony emanates from him.... Slamming both knees to the dirt, one hand grasps a jutting rock for support while the other cradles his skull, reproduced through practice.... The act automatic now, stopping further pain....
"Are you so sure?"
"Ehh.... Huh?"
Again a blast, rooting to his very core....
"Think harder!"
"Ohh...."
With one last boom his being is tossed to the dewy grass devoid of all consciousness....
View User's Journal
The Chronicle Parallel
The tales of many.... The tales of few.... Follow all twelve, simply to follow two.... Parallels.... Dreams....
 |
Teck
Community Member |
