Here is a wee story I wrote yesterday at work... Work, it can be a bit slow.
Note: This keeps with the whole storm theme from the last post...
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She sits, staring out at the grayish-blue sky, waiting for the oncoming darkness to arrive. Off in the distance, dark, menacing clouds gather strength and push ever closer. Their rain, ready to wash away pain, hurt, love.
She watches as lightning dances it beautiful chaos, bringing at once salvation and destruction. She can barely hear the far off air siren, and its song makes her heart ache for the storm. The last rays of light strike her weathered face as the clouds begin to swallow up the dying sun. The color of the sky becomes a surrealist painting about to be burned for heresy, its colors fading and rising at the same time. She smiles as the ever-growing darkness obscures the last vestiges of the world s sanity.
The wind has picked up, she says out loud. The decrepit house groans and shudders as an old man lying down for one last time, as the last rays of light touch up its walls. Too long has it stood, too long has its rotten timbers and sagging stone seeing a spectacle such as this.
She nods her head; slowly rocking in her old chair as the destructive roar of the thunder comes closer. Waiting; waiting for something, someone, to finally take her away. Waiting as she has for all those years, never seeing a storm such as this.
She closes her eyes, and dreams of time not so long ago, when men danced for rain and storms to bring new life to this land. Now, she imagines what it would be like to be part of the storm. Her dry lips part as she whispers a prayer to no particular god. The wind, stronger than the old house seemed to remember, howls its answer, an answer to a supplication that has long been forgotten, as shingles fly off to a distant land, another world.
The darkness is complete. A candle is lit by a hand, that for the first time in a decade does not shake. Her face is covered in shadow and dancing light. Her long-lost beauty reflected in the broken wall mirror. As she opens her eyes, the wind slams into the fragile house, shaking it to its core. The long forgotten house howl in pain as its blood and sweat begin slowly to crumble to the powerful storm. The mirror falls in a clatter, shattering into a thousand shards, reflecting the dying flame. The fake stars swivel around her and she sighs and grips the worn arms of the chair.
Lighting crashes and thunder roars. Wind howls its song and rain falls to lull the young earth to sleep. Fire grows and purifies all that it can. The unheard cries of the past slow slip away to the heavens. She closes her eyes and smiles as salvation slowly consumes her.
---
Note: This keeps with the whole storm theme from the last post...
---
She sits, staring out at the grayish-blue sky, waiting for the oncoming darkness to arrive. Off in the distance, dark, menacing clouds gather strength and push ever closer. Their rain, ready to wash away pain, hurt, love.
She watches as lightning dances it beautiful chaos, bringing at once salvation and destruction. She can barely hear the far off air siren, and its song makes her heart ache for the storm. The last rays of light strike her weathered face as the clouds begin to swallow up the dying sun. The color of the sky becomes a surrealist painting about to be burned for heresy, its colors fading and rising at the same time. She smiles as the ever-growing darkness obscures the last vestiges of the world s sanity.
The wind has picked up, she says out loud. The decrepit house groans and shudders as an old man lying down for one last time, as the last rays of light touch up its walls. Too long has it stood, too long has its rotten timbers and sagging stone seeing a spectacle such as this.
She nods her head; slowly rocking in her old chair as the destructive roar of the thunder comes closer. Waiting; waiting for something, someone, to finally take her away. Waiting as she has for all those years, never seeing a storm such as this.
She closes her eyes, and dreams of time not so long ago, when men danced for rain and storms to bring new life to this land. Now, she imagines what it would be like to be part of the storm. Her dry lips part as she whispers a prayer to no particular god. The wind, stronger than the old house seemed to remember, howls its answer, an answer to a supplication that has long been forgotten, as shingles fly off to a distant land, another world.
The darkness is complete. A candle is lit by a hand, that for the first time in a decade does not shake. Her face is covered in shadow and dancing light. Her long-lost beauty reflected in the broken wall mirror. As she opens her eyes, the wind slams into the fragile house, shaking it to its core. The long forgotten house howl in pain as its blood and sweat begin slowly to crumble to the powerful storm. The mirror falls in a clatter, shattering into a thousand shards, reflecting the dying flame. The fake stars swivel around her and she sighs and grips the worn arms of the chair.
Lighting crashes and thunder roars. Wind howls its song and rain falls to lull the young earth to sleep. Fire grows and purifies all that it can. The unheard cries of the past slow slip away to the heavens. She closes her eyes and smiles as salvation slowly consumes her.
---
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
Asi que viviste aca vos... que barbaro, la hiciste bien, te las tomaste en el momento justo, felicitaciones!!!!
Bueno, tengo setecientos veinte mil mensajes que contestar, por supuesto laburar en el medio y por que no actualizar mi journal mientras mi jefe me pide mil quinientas boludeces, asi que este mensaje ser cortito, mas porque soy medio paranoica y me gusta actualizar el journal a la maana, y asi de rapido me da bronca porque no puedo leer por ej, tu journal, porque si me cuelgo el mio lo actualizo a las seis de la tarde, y al dia siguiente me pasa lo mismo... en fin, ya me estoy colgando, que novedad la puta.
Que pena que no te queres parecer a sean penn, q bien que va sean penn
not so much monday blues...just the blues...how are you