Rmund
There was a preponderance of buffalo coming down the main avenue, and it was no surprise to the residents there. They had built the town close the open plains, and wildlife often made its way down the central corridor of the town. The townsfolk didn't talk much about the incident with the wolves from several months ago.
There wasn't any time to be offering the skulls to the children. They were already too caught up pulling the wings from the flies they were snatching out of the air. It was only when it was gently suggested they saw off the top portion of the skull and use it as a bowl for their wingless flies that they began to enthusiastically take them to their respective corners of the room.
There wasn't any time for regrowth in the jungles, when everything was being torn down at such a rapid rate. The bulldozers were too fast and intense on the jungle floor, and the men behind them knew they were on a time limit, and their pay was stuck to the levels of destruction they could make.
It was all a way to get into the driveway, veering around in the car until it clicked hard into the curb. The obviousness of the stunt wasn't so much to impress people, as to simply be a distraction for when they set up the multitude of distractions for the pollce when they arrived.
There was no way when driving along the freeway that he would give in to the stale nature of the roadside diners. It was only when he saw the deep blue Chevy, and the girl in faded jeans standing beside it in the parking lot of one diner that he considered that going for coffee and french toast would be admittedly, and probably, beneficial.
There wasn't anywhere to look in the field, but beyond it and into the woods, there was a statue that had been there for decades, and no one dared try and discover. There were rumours of where it was, but just looking at it was to go slightly mad…to take one's mind beyond where it was meant to be.
There was a polo team hanging around the village, looking for a field to play in, but they could only find one mallet, and they decided to use it on their captain. He'd been bragging for too long about his penchant for dominating the game, so they felt his time had come. It was a gentlemen's sport, but bragging was unbecoming, and so they decided to brain him.
He used the divider from his office as something to float on down to the street as he leapt out of the building window, buffeting to and fro like a leaf in fall time. Previously, the divider had more use as something to separate him from his co-workers.
When he finally found that headband in among the mud and churned up grass, even as dirty as it was now, he put it back on, hoping that one of the girls he'd seen during the concerts would see it and commence to casually and unconsciously sashay her way towards him with any kind of desire.
The bitterness of the rivalry was only matched by the outpouring of grief that came from watching the floods overtake the homes and hovels that were along the shorelines. There was no way to match wits with the strength of the river.
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writing since 2013 · 44 entries · 38 days shown up
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