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tdoc210 · 03-27-2007, 07:50 PM

The last Twig In the Stars

It was an Late March evening, It was damp, as the fog surrounded the air, chocking vision. The ground was still snow covered, on the trail, the trees blot the light, it was a hard walk, for the young boy. It was a time of revelations, being confused in the nature of the heart. He Paused by a tree, and cried, for he knew that the world was not as it had seemed, he thought about someone as he moved onwards. " I wonder what she thinks about me?" pondered he. Then looking through the wisps of hair, he noticed the light had gone. It was 7, and the woods were more welcoming than in the fall nights he had gone their, months ago. It was getting cold, and his fingers were numb, and ice with no feeling, for the symptom, was inherited through years of strain, and bad descions, on the part of he, and genetics.

The trail thinned, and he came to a clearing, he thought " maybe one day itll come together, just like the movies,a nd books, and songs tell me." Too late, the song in his head switched to soemthing from the days of vinyl, and he saw the bird that laid dead upon the trail, and it brought tears, as the swollen glands strained he knew, nothing, and nothing was ever learned through crying.

03-27-2007, 07:50 PM	#8 (permalink)
tdoc210 ashes against the grain Join Date: Jul 2005 Location: new hampsha Posts: 2,617	The last Twig In the Stars It was an Late March evening, It was damp, as the fog surrounded the air, chocking vision. The ground was still snow covered, on the trail, the trees blot the light, it was a hard walk, for the young boy. It was a time of revelations, being confused in the nature of the heart. He Paused by a tree, and cried, for he knew that the world was not as it had seemed, he thought about someone as he moved onwards. " I wonder what she thinks about me?" pondered he. Then looking through the wisps of hair, he noticed the light had gone. It was 7, and the woods were more welcoming than in the fall nights he had gone their, months ago. It was getting cold, and his fingers were numb, and ice with no feeling, for the symptom, was inherited through years of strain, and bad descions, on the part of he, and genetics. The trail thinned, and he came to a clearing, he thought " maybe one day itll come together, just like the movies,a nd books, and songs tell me." Too late, the song in his head switched to soemthing from the days of vinyl, and he saw the bird that laid dead upon the trail, and it brought tears, as the swollen glands strained he knew, nothing, and nothing was ever learned through crying. __________________ We went back there and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile. A pile of little arms. And I remember... I... I... I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn't know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget. And then I realized... like I was shot... like I was shot with a diamond... a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God... the genius of that.