Louis Riley
2005-10-14, 01:01 PM
I've been pretty inactive with writing, recently....I'm usually too damn busy....this is something I wrote with someone else...a continuation of a piece I wrote a while ago....I write from the POV of Jeremy, and my friend Ines writes from the POV of Randy...this is an experiment....let me know if you think it's worth continuing
The bells jingled softly as he closed the door, almost drowned out by the beeping of the store's alarm system. Turning keys in multiple locks then dropping the keys into a pocket, Jeremy Matheson hopped off the doorstep and began walking down the street, yawning loudly and rubbing his shoulder. It had been a long day today; he'd had to cut up the new deliveries and prepare them, and that always took alot of work. Added to that, Jose, the cashier he had hired a week ago never turned up today, so Jeremy had had to run register and help customers, then run into the back whenever he got a chance. Shaking his head and letting out a long breath, he stuck his hands in his pocket and looked into the distance, staring at the skyline and trudging down the sidewalk, going home.
He didn't see the two men until it was too late.
They jumped out from behind a parked car, dressed entirely in black with ski masks covering their faces. One of them pushed a black plastic object into Jeremy's side, and a spark erupted. The butcher slumped into the waiting arms of one of the men, and a black van pulled up to a screeching halt beside them, the back doors flying open. The other man hoisted Jeremy by his feet, and together the two black clad men threw him into back heavily, jumped in after him and closed the door as the van accelerated off.
Jeremy groaned loudly, his head throbbing wildly. Slowly opening his eyes, he looked around and pushed himself up to a sitting position, gripping his head. Instantly he was confused, then slowly he remembered the two men, and he suddenly felt sick. Standing up, he scanned the room, opening his eyes wide to see in the gloom. On the other side of the room, the was a small hole in the wall. Through this hole, sunlight streamed, bathing a table in a soft, golden glow. Walking toward the table, Jeremy saw the glint of metal reflected in his eye, and he frowned as he recognized the object. Feeling obviously in danger but greatly confused, the butcher reached out and gingerly lifted the gun, running his fingers over the cold steel.
"Good morning Mr. Matheson, I trust you slept well?"
The voice erupted through the room, and Jeremy dropped the gun in suprise, the metal clattering on the wooden floor.
"Really, Mr. Matheson. You'll have to learn to keep a better hold of your weapon than that. Without it I'm afraid you'll be quite a dissapointment to us."
The voice was cultured, well read, with a hint of amusement. It had a slightly North American twang to it.
Warily, Jeremy crouched and picked up the gun, standing to look all around him, peering into the shadows.
"That's the ticket, Mr. Matheson. Don't be dense now, of course I'm not here with you. Look in the top left corner."
Jeremy obliged the voice, and saw the red light of the closed circuit camera blinking at him.
"Who are you? what the hell is going on here?"
His voice was hurried, and he continued to peer into the shadows, suddenly glad he had the gun.
"Calm down, Mr. Matheson" The voice was calm, as if speaking to a petulant child. "You havn't even looked if that gun is loaded."
The butcher glanced down at the weapon, and realized there was no clip. His breath caught in his throat and he looked up at the camera, his adams apple bobbing up and down.
"Look to the table, Mr. Matheson. Jesus I hope you aren't going to stay this stupid, I had high hopes for you."
Still highly unsure of what was going on, Jeremy glanced down and saw two clips. Reaching out, he took one and pushed it into the slot under the handle, then pulled back on the top of the pistol as he'd seen in done in the movies. Suprisingly nothing went wrong and he assumed he had gotten it right. Taking the other clip, he slipped it into a pocket then looked back up at the camera.
"Now you're getting it." The voice paused for a moment, obviously enjoying the butcher's confusion. "So in answer to your question, you are in an abandoned town in the middle of a desert in a place that will remain unnamed. The reason for you being here is that you, and several other lucky contestants, are going to be providing my compatriots and me with the day's entertainment." Again the voice paused, letting his words sink in. "Now what does the day's entertainment entail, you might ask? Well. I have hired several acomplished hitmen, quite ruthless I assure you, to hunt you and several other contestants. When they find you, they <i>will</i> kill you." There was a long silence as Jeremy stared at the camera, his mouth dropping open. "Unless of course, you kill them first."
Jeremy shook his head, refusing to believe the situation he was in.
"Now, Mr. Matheson. I'm going to give you a bit of a head start. As we speak, one of those hitmen I was speaking of is coming to your position. He has been given a dossier on you and he is quite insistant that he be the one to bag you, so to speak."
Jeremy looked up, his eyes having now adjusted to the darkness, and saw the faint outline of a door. In the distance, he imagined he could hear footsteps. Looking around wildly, he focussed on the hole in the wall. Narrowing his eyes, he realized it was a sheet of heavy black plastic, stretched tight over a window with no glass.
"Well done, Mr. Matheson! I would hurry if I were you, that hitman is awfully close."
Jeremy looked back at the door. He could definately hear footsteps now, clomping heavily on wood, getting closer and closer. Desperately, he tore at the plastic, sunlight flooding the room as he ripped the cover away from the window. Looking back, he saw the door handle turn, then dove straight out the window as blast of gunfire erupted from the door, peppering the window sill with buckshot. Landing heavily on a dirt road, Jeremy rolled, trying to stand quickly, and dashed down the road, looking desperately for somewhere to hide. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a head poke out the window, a Stetson hat shading the face, and once again the voice burst out from speaker hidden throughout the town.
"Welcome to the Button Man competition, Mr. Matheson."
-----------------
::Two fingers lightly tapped his shoulder and he immediately brushed them off as he turned around to face whoever had just broken his usual lethargy. “Mr. Barrel,” It was his employer’s new lapdog. “It’s time.” Said Jonathan, with a smirk in his tone, as always. He was wearing his tacky blue suit again today. And he had entered the room without permission. With these thoughts in mind which were clearly reflected in his facial expression, Randy looked Jonathan over with obvious irritation and disdain in his eyes. And the latter, upon sensing agrivation from Randy, thought he ought to explain himself: “I knocked, you didn’t answer.”
And Randy remembered he’d been daydreaming again. Well, ‘daydreaming’ was the first word that came to mind, though he then realized his train of thought wasn’t as a plesant as a daydreams are defined to be. Well, whatever. He had work to do, he told himself. That was when Jonathan’s words reached him and it had already been a few awkward seconds for Jonathan untill Randy registered the words. Then it took him a couple more to manage a stiff nod, in response.
Wordlessly, he then promtply turned back to grab his gun from the window sill and then back towards Jonathan, who stepped back, but failed to avoid a violent push of Randy’s shoulder as this one marching passed a staggering Jonathan and out of the room. Going down the hall, loading his gun as he neared the destined cell, staring steadfastly ahead of him he felt better already. Accelerating his pace, he rushed down the stairs and was soon only a few feet away from Jeremy’s door.
That was about when his prey found its escape. Randy flattened himself against the wall while slowly reaching for the knob. This door could only open from the outside, that was the case with most cells. But something caught his eye and he looked down at the floor. There was light, seeping through the narrow gap under the door. It had undoubtedly emerged from the escape. His target had already gone. Randy sighed through his nose and opted not to exit the same was his prey did. The latter might be expecting him.
Instead, Randy ran past the door and continued down the hallway, numerous doors flashing on his way in a blur. From one of the rooms he heard a scream of one man demanding to be released. One of the last doors was left halfway open, exposing a man’s fresh corpse underneath an exit like that of Jeremy’s cell, only the plastic sheet had only been torn halfway down. Randy never even spared a second glance. He had his own game to play.::
-------
Dust spreading out behind his steps, Jeremy ran desperately down the dirt road, glancing back every few seconds to see if the killer was following. Ducking into small alley between two seemingly derelict houses, he pushed himself back against the wooden slats of the wall and tried to slow his breathing, his heart beat pounding in his ears. A small trickle of sweat dripping down the small of his back, the butcher closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back against the wood, trying to make sense of the horror he had somehow been brought into. That someone could go to all the trouble to arrange this "game" appalled him...surely the situation couldn't be dire as it seemed....it was a nightmare....it had to be.
His reverie was broken by the blast of gunfire, quickly answered by a returned volley. His eyes snapping open, Jeremy turned to look in the direction of the sounds and decided they were nowhere close...Charles hadn't been joking when he said there were other "contestants". Reaching down to his waist, the butcher pulled his gun out, looking intently at the steel, watching the sunlight gleam across the metal. None of this seemed real yet, that he could be kidnapped and taken to this place, made to kill or be killed....He shook his head, focussing on the now. If this wasn't a dream, then he would need to pay attention, as any misstep would get him killed. Holding his gun loosely in his left hand, Jeremy made his way quietly down the alleyway, pausing at the end to glance down the street. Across the empty dirt road stood several wooden buildings, ranging from a barber to a bank to even a saloon. This confused Jeremy even more, as he couldn't think as to why of all places he would be in an Old West town, and he walked slowly out into the open, staring dumbly at the saloon. He still wasn't thinking properly, so didn't realize he was making himself an easy target.
--------------
::Just when he slid the window open, Randy heard the distant gun shot as well. It didn’t affect him in the least; He’d grown too used to it. It wasn’t even interesting anymore, his own kills were his only thrill. Occasionally, he’d get steal someone else’s, if an obvious oppurtunity to do so presented itself. More hits always meant more cash. Resting one hand on the window sill, he spun his handgun in the other and then slipped it into his gunbelt. It was a double-action revolver with 6 chambers, as most revolvers had. Fully loaded at present. And, possibly Randy’s only true friend.
Clutching the windowsill with his hand, he bent once through his knees for extra momentum before jumping. Surrporting himself on one arm, Randy swung his legs out the window and was on the move as soon as his feet hit the dust. With all the confidence in the world, the lone hunter walked down the old western street without even touching his gun. He knew noone was around yet. And he knew just about where his target would be. Wishing suddenly he had a cold beer, he kept his gaze focused on his boots and soon found himself infront of the exit Jeremy had escaped from. For a moment he paused in his tracks, examining the torn sheet while he re-adjusted his hat, which shadowed his eyes just enough for him to keep a clear vision despite the glaring sun. One reason he’d come to like this town’s fashion was because it fit his hat: A western stetson which he had possessed even longer than his trusty revolver.
Changing directions as he moved on, Randy kept his head lowered, though it was now with a real purpose that he did so. He was following Jeremy’s foot prints. This one had obviously been running, judging by the distance between the individual foot prints. And he’d been wise to run. When Randy came into a small alley, he decided to draw his gun again, figuring his victim was close.
As soon as he raised his head, Randy caught sight of Jeremy at the end of the alleyway just as the latter walked out into the open. Quickening his pace, he felt his teeth gritt with excitement and faint grin edge his lips. His index slipped onto the trigger and he marched faster still. Then, gripping his revolver tighter, he raised it in the air and fired a warning shot with the sole intention of scaring his victim shitless.::
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The saloon stood before him, old fashioned swinging doors resting closed as Jeremy slowly approached them. He moved as if in a daze, looking up and down the road as he walked toward the building, trying to come to terms with the whole fantastic, almost surreal situation that he had been thrown into. The smooth, cold steel weighed heavy in his hand, and it slipped from his fingers as he went through the day's series of events in his mind. Snapping once again out of his reverie, Jeremy bent down to pick up his weapon, then froze, his stomach dropping to his knees as the soft <i>click</i> sounded behind him. Fingers resting on the bevelled grip of the pistol, the butcher closed his eyes, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, the sound drowning out everything else. Time seemed to slow down, his breath caught in his throat, then the earth shattering <i>BOOM!!</i> overwhelmed the beating of his heart, and Jeremy was a sudden blur of motion, diving to the side then rolling quickly to a stand.
Adrenaline burned through his system, lending speed to his actions. He spun as he stood and fired. Once. Twice. The bullets slammed harmlessly into a wall several feet wide of the hunter, and Jeremy dashed toward the nearest cover, feeling imaginary bullets tear into his back as he moved. The saloon doors burst inward, slamming hard against the inside wall then swinging back out. Not pausing in his stride, Jeremy dove over the bar and landed heavily, slamming into the wall that held several bottles of liqour. One or two bottles toppled from the shelf, shattering on the wooden floor, and a desperate idea occured to the butcher. Grabbing another bottle of liqour, he pulled out the cork with his teeth and sloshed the strong smelling alcohol behind him as he ran through a doorway into the back room. Throwing the bottle onto the floor directly outside the door, Jeremy reached into his pocket and a sudden cold sweat lined his brow; His lighter was gone. Spinning around, the butcher looked over the room desperately. He knew he only had a few more seconds, but he needed fire, something to ignite the liquid before it evaporated. Suddenly, he looked down at the gun, and cursed himself for his stupidity.
<i>BANG!</i>
He fired the gun, and stared in dumbfounded horror as the bullet sunk into the floor, causing a shower of splinters but failing to ingite the liqour.
"Oh come on!!!!"
The cry of disbelief left his lips and Jeremy fired two more times in desperation. The second bullet hit something metal and ricocheted overhead, making the butcher duck quickly. He looked up in time to see sparks falling onto the pooled liquid on the floor, and he slammed into the back door, pushing it open and diving out onto the dirt again as the flames began to rise inside the saloon. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Jeremy was running again, looking for some place he could hope to hide.
------
“Run, gunkill, run…” The hunter whispered harshly through a tight grin, adjusting his Statson hat with one hand while the other hung loosely by his side. He didn’ t even try to dodge Jeremy’ s first shots. Nobody ever aimed right their first time. As he saw his prey flee again, Randy gradually accelerated his pace untill his cool walk had developped into a full run. As he raced after the butcher, the killer extended his gun arm and held his wrist steady with his other hand. He fired and missed his target just as the latter burst into the saloon.
Randy flattened himself against the exterior wall instead of following Jeremy inside. The latter had probably already found cover while his hunter would enter completely exposed. Listening intently for any recognizable sounds, Randy positioned himself right next to a window. As he heard the butcher land somewhere in the room with a loud thud, Randy rammed his elbow into the window, shattering a hole large enough for his gun barrel to poke through.
Barely had the broken shards hit the ground when two more shots tried at the panicked butcher. Both of them vainly hitting the counter. Randy began to count his shots. He wondered about the ruckus…It sounded like his prey was making a mess all on his own. His curiousity prodded him to take a peek through the window, and what he saw made little sense to him. The man was wasting shots on the floor. Regardless, Jeremy was now exposed and distracted by whatever kind of madness he was trying to achieve.
Four…Five…Randy counted, firing twice at the delirious butcher’s head. But this one ducked just as his pursuer fired, as though he’d seen the shots coming. The hunter stood dumbfounded when both shots were wasted on empty bottles, causing them both to explode. Cursing inwardly, it was then that he noticed small flames forming on the spilled alcohol in the main room. Now it all made sense. Jeremy was certainly more resourceful than most new contestants.
Surely, Jeremy wouldn’t stick around to slowly get intoxicated by the rising fumes. Foreseeing the clever target’s next move, Randy dashed around the corner and ran through a narrow alley which would lead him to the Saloon’s back door. “One shot.” The hunter told himself as he furiously raced on to meet his opponent. Just seconds before he’ d made it around the corner, Randy heard the back doors fly open, and he knew he’ d missed his man.
Rather than chancing his last bullet on a moving target from his current position, Randy attempted to catch up to his victim first. He was reluctant to wasting his final shot as he felt there was something almost sacred about a revolver’s sixth bullet. Anyone else might’ve thought it delirious, as Randy did, after all, have a second shell in his pocket. Surely, he thought, outrunning this man wouldn’t be too difficult. Most people had led peaceful lives until the Button Man competition, and usually weren’t used to the exercise. For Randy, however, this every day’s work.
And it is his familiarity with the game which gave him the over-confidence to make a fatal mistake. Randy had, in fact, already wasted his last shot. He had forgotten to count his true initial shot, the one which had shaken Jeremy from his torpor. Randy was chasing after an armed man, with an empty gun.
krazylittleangel
2005-10-14, 03:58 PM
Teacher and the witch are the same~
another chapter:
When Tova was a baby, she and her sister Juniper were in their nest waiting for their mother to come back with food, when a sudden strong gust of wind picked Tova up and took her away. She had called frantically to Juniper but the gust smutherd her cries and Juniper never had the chance to hear them. Infact, Juniper's head had been turned when the gust claimed Tova so she never knew where her sister had gone. Truthfully, Juniper thought Tova must have learned how to fly while she was napping and had simply left the nest like she was always saying she would do one day.
The wind blew Tova into the heart of the giant forest beyond. In and out of tree branches the wind looped with Tova. The wind was precise but it was not careful and Tova suffered a broken wing by the time the wind threw her to the ground beneath the troll weeds. All around her were tall weeds, curling this way and that way. All around the troll weeds were spider webs. They were everywhere they could be spun. Tova may have missed the spider webs but she certainly did not miss the spiders' eyes.
The pain of her broken wing was overcome by the paralyzing fear of the spiders. Tova knew of spiders because her mother had said many times, "Better to eat them. If given the chance, they'd wrap you in webs and eat you alive from the inside out." Then her mother would offer up a hideous pile of spider mush for her and Juniper to eat.
In a split second, a spider dropped from above. Its fangs were protruded and plunged into Tova's wounded wing. A warm, fuzzy feeling came over Tova and she fell into a deep sleep.
~Given to one another~
The witch had given Oran and Tova to one another. She said, "This is the greatest gift I can give the two of you." Then she opened her hands to Oran and revealed Tova, wrapped in silk.
"This is Tova. The wind brought her to me this morning. She has a broken wing but the spiders tended to her wound and her fright so she will be waking soon. Take care of her Oran. She will be your friend for the rest of your life.", instructed the witch. "This should take care of your loneliness, Oran. I've noticed you gazing off in thought lately. I feel your thoughts when you do not tell them to me." She stroked the top of Oran's head with her finger. Oran felt ashamed that he had not shared his thoughts of loneliness with the witch. "Do not feel ashamed, Oran.", said the witch in a comforting voice, as always. "I don't share all of my thoughts with you either. The only difference here is that you have not learned to read my thoughts and therefore, sometimes you miss what I am feeling." Oran looked up with astonishment and pleaded to the witch, "I never mean to miss what you feel. I love you and you mean everything to me. Without you my life would not be the same. Without you I would know none of the things I know now. Life would just not be the same. I do not even think I would want to know the world if you were not a part of my life." The witch gave Oran a gentle kiss and giggled as she reminded him, "I know all this, Oran. I feel it in your thoughts everyday. When Tova wakes up, be sure to tell her of me. I've yet to speak with her since her arrival. She's been sleeping for along time. Answer her questions today because tomorrow you will show her the woods around us."
Oran looked up from the bundle of silken Tova. He wanted to thank the witch for the special gift but she had already existed the room. Infact, she was probably already out the door and off doing whatever it was she did when she disappeared for the day.
krazylittleangel
2005-10-14, 03:59 PM
the next chapter:
~Quick like the wind~
The witch was quick like the wind. She seemed to show up in rooms where she wasn't standing before. At first this would frighten Oran. He never knew when she was going to appear and he also didn't know when she would disappear.
Once he had decided to sing the witch a song. He had trained his voice everyday. There were days that Oran did nothing at all but sing until the sun went to sleep and the moon woke up. Sometimes he was sure the witch heard him singing and since she never tried to quiet him, he assumed she must have grown to like his voice. Oran had decided that on this particular morning he would sing directly for her. This morning, he would be brave and confident and it would shine through in his voice. The witch might say something like, "Oran? Was that you singing? I had no idea that you could sing that beautifully! I want to hear you sing everyday. I want you to wake me with your singing and send me off to slumber with it too! Why did you not let me hear this wonderful singing of yours sooner?"
Oran perched himself next to the doorway in a room where the witch was busy tending to things. He took in a deep breath and began singing as loud and as beautifully as he could. Oran threw his head back and closed his eye as he became captured by his own voice. He quickly realized that this was the best singing he had ever done. He just knew he would open his eyes to the witch standing in awe, unable to do anything more than listen to his every note. But, when Oran opened his eyes, the witch wasn't standing infront of him at all. He looked around the room, up and down, thinking that maybe she was looking in a cupboard or kneeling in a closet of the room but she wasnt anywhere in there at all! He flew through the house looking for her and soon realized she was out in the garden. She had somehow gone right by him while he was singing and he never even noticed!
Oran sat on his perch feeling silly for having exerted so much energy into his singing only to find that the witch had walked out on his attempt. He envisioned how rediculous he must have looked perched there, wings spread, head back, eyes closed, giving it everything he had and looking as though he were performing for the whole wide world when in reality, there was no one there but himself. He had just given himself the finest performance of his life. Oran felt foolish and sad that the voice he thought would win the attention of the witch, infact was not even noticed.
Oran felt so foolish he could barely stand to be in his own feathers. He hid his face under his wing and tried to hide from his feelings. No sooner had he hid under his wing when he felt the witch's finger gentle stroking his head. Oran was so startled that he pooped alittle! The witch said, "Oran, I don't think I've ever seen you poop on the floor. By the way, that was absolutely the most beautiful singing I have ever heard coming from a bird! It was so soothing and peaceful. I thought you should know that I felt it while I was in my garden. If you'd kindly sing more while I clean the poop out of the floor, I feel certain that it would make the task more pleasant."
Oran thought so many things at this point but the number one thought he was having was, "I just pooped in the floor."
halcyon
2005-10-14, 04:37 PM
Know the deep breath of chilly winter air that floods your lungs?
the one that almost feels pure in a sense of things, as far as air in a city could be?
in late nights of deafening silences, save for the noises of sirens and the like
something about those moment, the calm, the serenity, the peace...
stands out to be the panacea from the daily chaos that plagues me
It was late in October, Saturday at that, the time, ungodly
3 or 4 am, i was with two associates of mine in a safehouse of sorts
Sanctuary #825 to be exact
what we were doing was our best impression of what life would look like
if it took a day off only to go to a waterpark to meander in the lazy river
of course, a modern day device, the ball and chain and saving grace, changes everything
my cell phone makes itself known as some dance tune bellows out of the late '90s
and who and what on the other end doesn't matter to this tale i tell but know this
life just left the lazy river and went to the raging rapids
you know, the ride that's safe yet still vulnerable to the law of "shit happens"
it's time for comfort to be tossed aside and for me to leave sanctuary #825
and do so with haste
first, i pressed the "oh shit" button, which is large and red, like that you find in cartoons
next, i armed myself with the latest in urban survival gear which no urbanite should be without
(shelltoes, cell phone, cigarettes, a lighter, and a badass deameanor)
as i reach the door one of my associates inquired "do you want me to go with you?"
my answer, like i had just looked at my "What would Rambo do" bracelet, was simple
"I work better alone"
the elevator descended with me inside waiting to be unleashed upon the metropolis
once the doors opened I power walked with intensity that senior citizens dream of
through the lobby and past a security guard that impersonated helen keller
the front doors and i collided with me emerging as the winner
it was then, like i resurfaced from a deep sea dive that i took in that deep breath
the chill of the night made the air feel that pureness i talked about earlier
combined with the city that, for the most part, was asleep, it was surreal to say the least
made me wonder
maybe god, if there is such a person, hit the pause button on the dvd player of life
even the man upstairs has to take a leak sometime right?
strange yet beautiful i found this haunting screenshot of time to be
often with the fast lane i all too often find myself in
the simplicity of moments like this appear like a work of art
and off into the late night early morning city night i go
as time is the fire in which we burn and there is much to be done
cleophite
2005-10-20, 10:56 AM
Know the deep breath of chilly winter air that floods your lungs?
the one that almost feels pure in a sense of things, as far as air in a city could be?
in late nights of deafening silences, save for the noises of sirens and the like
something about those moment, the calm, the serenity, the peace...
stands out to be the panacea from the daily chaos that plagues me
It was late in October, Saturday at that, the time, ungodly
3 or 4 am, i was with two associates of mine in a safehouse of sorts
Sanctuary #825 to be exact
what we were doing was our best impression of what life would look like
if it took a day off only to go to a waterpark to meander in the lazy river
of course, a modern day device, the ball and chain and saving grace, changes everything
my cell phone makes itself known as some dance tune bellows out of the late '90s
and who and what on the other end doesn't matter to this tale i tell but know this
life just left the lazy river and went to the raging rapids
you know, the ride that's safe yet still vulnerable to the law of "shit happens"
it's time for comfort to be tossed aside and for me to leave sanctuary #825
and do so with haste
first, i pressed the "oh shit" button, which is large and red, like that you find in cartoons
next, i armed myself with the latest in urban survival gear which no urbanite should be without
(shelltoes, cell phone, cigarettes, a lighter, and a badass deameanor)
as i reach the door one of my associates inquired "do you want me to go with you?"
my answer, like i had just looked at my "What would Rambo do" bracelet, was simple
"I work better alone"
the elevator descended with me inside waiting to be unleashed upon the metropolis
once the doors opened I power walked with intensity that senior citizens dream of
through the lobby and past a security guard that impersonated helen keller
the front doors and i collided with me emerging as the winner
it was then, like i resurfaced from a deep sea dive that i took in that deep breath
the chill of the night made the air feel that pureness i talked about earlier
combined with the city that, for the most part, was asleep, it was surreal to say the least
made me wonder
maybe god, if there is such a person, hit the pause button on the dvd player of life
even the man upstairs has to take a leak sometime right?
strange yet beautiful i found this haunting screenshot of time to be
often with the fast lane i all too often find myself in
the simplicity of moments like this appear like a work of art
and off into the late night early morning city night i go
as time is the fire in which we burn and there is much to be done
Love this.