itsinthesand
The music waxed and waned in his ears, as he tried desperately to get a solid tone going. But he couldn't. For all his efforts he was just as unbalanced as he had been when the song started. Only now he was far sadder. He had failed.
The way her hair felt under her fingers brought her instantly to awareness. The room around her was immediately unfamiliar, but it was the weave of her hair that caused her concern. A strange room was one thing. A strangers fingers in her hair was a thought she tried and failed to not realize.
I have tried to be an ambassador for you people, but you have failed to live up to my example at every turn. I have nurtured your intelligence and your hedonism, and yet still you live lives of boredom.
He looked off at the setting sun and was amazed by it. It was like nothing was wrong, the glare of the sun masking everything. It felt like any other day, the warmth of the sun playing off his skin. The only indication that anything was wrong was the smell coming from the streets below. If one didn't look down, it would be perfect.
The pieces of his skin broke apart and scattered on the wind. He did not know how he was breathing, not as the flecks of skin began to fall into heaps, revealing the skin underneath. And he tried to scream, but he couldn't.
He didn't have lungs anymore.
They wanted to build something together, but that would never come to pass. The strange thing about losing someone is that you miss less the person, and more the things you could have done. The things you would have done if time was kinder.
Sometimes you have days where you end up like Sideshow Bob, stepping on rakes. It isn't like you even care anymore. Just repeating the expected reaction. You could open your eyes and look around, but really it is easier to just get smacked in the face.
It only gets worse from here. That is how the phrase goes. But really, it isn't change we are afraid of, even if it really is for the worse. The true horror, the worst eventuality that could ever occur is the idea that things will stay the same, forever in that terrible place.
The small store was older than most people who lived in the town, and that was saying something. Though it managed to carry much of the modern amenities, there was a fair amount of things that were from times long forgotten by the living, but kept in stock just in case an old timer was looking for nostalgia with their beer.
He took a sip, then a long draw as he suddenly recognized how thirsty he was. How much more he had ignored his needs he didn't know. But the one thing he knew more than anything was that this wasn't going to be the last time. Not by a long shot.
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writing since 2012 · 48 entries · 48 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Jeremiah showed up.
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the words Jeremiah reaches for
skinnowsometimespainliveeyeshelproomhardmanagedlookingclearlivingbloodcannotstrange