10.10.2007

C.W.S.

[All In Minutes]

Today the sky was drearily sitting below the heavens. And I, below the sky, did look to see the moon, racing across the midnight blue sky.
The trees waved to the moon. Swiftly and firmly, their long evergreen branches, the fingers curled and spread. Slightly prickly, yet comforting.
To path this verbal observation, I wrote a continuous narrative. The words traveled down the winding road of my page, barely discernible from the woods around me.
I looked, and beheld among the trees a creature of some sort.
Giant, yet small, and with a strange mythical sense to it.
Inside a cave I found myself. The walls of ice surrounded me. The creature bent before me, its breath visible even in the dim light.
"Down," it said to me. "Down. Down towards the healing."
I knew not what to make of this. The words seemed alien to me. And then, the creature was gone. I raised myself up in the dark. I could see nothing, feel nothing, there was nothing there before me.
Darkness, I feared, would be tunneled into my very mind. Through the long, unclear passage I crawled, letting myself be swept aside by the thoughts. Soon, I wondered what I would find there.
And then I found the lamp. Rusted and warped by time, it stood before me in a small beacon of outside light.
Out, out I drove, faster and faster, until I came to the surface. The fresh air knew my name, as it had called it so many times.
Up went the lamp, ascending through the clouds to heaven. There was nothing to be done, I simply held onto the small grasses at the tree's base.
Slowly, I too travel up the trunk, through the air and branches, till I reached the rooftop of the evergreen. There, the sky motioned for me to listen, then whispered to my ear.
"The sky," it said, "will not always be so blue."
And then I fell. I fell down to earth. The sky stood above me, a towering wall of magenta.
My pencil moved furiously.

[an excerpt from the journal with the permanent fragrant]

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

"...blood so sweet, so sweet to drink the blood, the blood that drips, drips, drops so red; pretty eyes, fine eyes, I have no eyes, pluck the eyes from out of your head; grind your bones, split your bones inside your flesh, suck your marrow while you scream; scream, scream, singing screams, sing your screams."


My journal is comparitively more disturbing.

jonathan//garret said...

ive seen more disturbing.

rachel said...

mmm... i like jons better.

the other one, sorry to say, doesn't disturb me.. it kind of bores me.

jonathan//garret said...

to quote grade nine kristofer van soelen, you are "sick and wrong and twisted!"

rachel said...

aw, grade nine kristofer van soelen!