andrewswalker

andrewswalker

This user account status is Approved

ferry

She caught the last ferry out of the city. All of the bridges were gone, crumbled into piles of stone at the bottom of the Great Ford river. She could still smell the city burning. It stuck inside of her nose like a dead body.

Buying, selling, buying selling, Jesus Christ, doe it ever stop? The flow of commerce all around, at any given time, is unfathomable. Just think, that person next to you in the cafe (from which you just bought your morning coffee), the one on his phone, could be buying a car, or a house, or even 30 small gifts for orphan babies in Kenya for all you know.

She was sensible, never tried too hard to make a good impression, but did anyway. Down to earth, so far down in fact she was inside it, in the dirt, under the soil. She fanned out the roots of trees and pushed up their trunks, spread out their branches.

The numbers were baffling: 1825 dead, 520 missing, out of which 154 were presumed dead, and 298 were presumed to be in some sort of semi-conscious state, aware of their surroundings but entirely asleep.

stamped across his forehead plain for all to see the inventions of his slimy mind

pines

absolute nothingness, a void, still, tranquil, as if in the vacuum of space, no sound other than the blood rushing through your head, between your ears, your own heartbeat louder than anything else around you

It was nearing midnight, and the sailor could not fall asleep. The ship he was in was only one in a fleet of 264, out in the deep Atlantic. They were being tousled like hair, the ships and their crewmembers both. He was fresh from the academy, and it was his first deployment. He and the rest of his shipmates were headed to Portugal, specifically to Peniche, to the base established only 6 months prior, before the war.

piano

A grand piano sat in the middle of the airport, unplayed. People were rushing to and from various gates, paying no attention to the marvel that stood alone in the middle of the place balanced on three wooden legs, perfectly tuned and ready to create comforting, soothing sounds for all those within earshot. Hundreds upon hundreds of years were put into perfecting this mechanical music making box; thousands of years into the development of the tones it could produce (represented by the first seven letters of the English alphabet [almost comically simple]). But there it stood, black and alone, while people walked by without notice.

The prisoner was held in the trunk of the dark man's car until they arrived at the house on the beach. He could hear the ocean between his cries for help and the bang bang bang of him kicking the car.

high strung and strung out want to rip my tongue out i speak these words these words without meaning\ i never really understand exactly what im feeling or if im feeling anything at all god i feel like im about to fall catch catch catch me if you can oh look another american boy, i sure am glad i was born into a land where freedom is the least free thing you can find oh im losing my mind

load more entries

writing since 2010 · 30 entries · 30 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Andrew showed up.

2longest streak

30days written

0.2entries / week

on this day 13 years ago

Andrew wrote about narrative
“life's narrative a script written in sand being washed away with every passing day by the currents of time, so rhyme, make rhythm forgive, be forgiven and wait until the tide takes you away”

the words Andrew reaches for

mindrisealoneasleepwordfeelingheldchildrenstopcatchcarbangdeadbuyingboughtsmile