WalkingtheNight
Typically posting at night, just trying to exercise my ability to create and write.
WalkingtheNight
Typically posting at night, just trying to exercise my ability to create and write.
Typically posting at night, just trying to exercise my ability to create and write.
Typically posting at night, just trying to exercise my ability to create and write.
Still today occurs on every point, Whether night or bright or full of blight. As I see the stars up in the sky, Each one glints with its own worries of today. There’s an ordinary in every place of space. What’s common and what’s not. Up there, on a planet far away, I’d still be looking out, To imagine another today.
Fish. Swipe. Fish. Swipe. Big fish. Swipe. ..why even post that fish. Swipe. Half naked. Swipe. Shut-in. Swipe. Hmmm, likes hiking and camping. Decent picture. Ah! There it is: the half cut off picture of your ex. Swipe. And on and on it goes. Nearly mindless attention on swiping dating apps. It’s more entertainment that actual engagement with anyone. Making quick judgements. Looking for “the one”. I feel like it’s all kind of a big joke online. You can’t meet anyone face to face, so it’s hard to know anyone. And if you don’t really know them, how can you trust them enough to meet them in person. It’s kind of a loop of distance I’ve put myself through as a fear of getting close to anyone. But I enjoy the entertainment. Seriously, why are there so many fish photos. Do men really think women are into fishing that much? Well what about this one. No immediate photos, just the opener question, and they seem to match mine! No…they exactly match mine. What? Word for word…they are the same. Tap-tap. Who is this person? What’s their profile picture? …it’s a picture of me?
“All are holy!” The religious chorus cries as they dance through the town. They’re singing praises of the god king, Lucius. His example is that all living things are holy, the plants, the earth, the people. We live on the edge of the capital in a small, poorer suburb. So it’s nice to have something of equal status as the nobility in the center of the capital. As the group of religious leaders start to end, the -have the narrator enlisted into the army/guard as “all are holy”. -have his family taken from him as bandits take from his house. As the narrator protests one of his family members, have the bandit proclaim “all are holy” so that the bandit is holy and gets to choose his worth. -have the narrator become an assassin and go against the king proclaiming death to the holy “all are holy”
It’s in the air. The crisp, wet, humidity. The soft light on the wind. The murmur of the clouds in the sky. The change of seeing only the stark red on the horizon to seeing it all around. Wearing warm and comfy clothes indoors and out. The best weather to be outside. The best season to be alive. Autumn has finally arrived.
It’s not just the weather for autumn, but it does set the tone. It’s the whole idea of the season. It’s harvest time, so a time to enjoy food. To enjoy warm food again. Like soups and casseroles you’ve been avoiding in the heat of the summer. People enjoy the tricks of the season, along with the treats, due to Halloween around the corner.
It’s kids getting excited to see their friends in school. Excited to join sports, and classes, no matter how much they’d rather not say it. It’s also the start of a season of celebrating family and friends. To remember what we have and what we can give to one another. That’s really what autumn is, a season that’s the feeling you get around family and friends. It’s a comfortable, cozy feeling. Like sitting by a fire with a warm mug of something that smells a bit like cinnamon. Knowing you could go outside, as it’s still warm enough without much of a jacket, but you could also stay curled up by the fire. Autumn is a time of being home. And today, I’ve finally arrived home.
She cried tears of pain, Of that much I could tell. Under the Willow tree, It’s leaves cradling her face.
It wasn’t the silent tears of hidden shame. Nor the the angers tears of loneliness. It was the raw tears of agony.
She wasn’t shrieking yet, But she has every right to. For what worse anguish is there, Than a Mother’s loss of her child.
Who could say no to little Suzie. She’s a mixture of a feyling and a halfling with a whole lot of heart. She’s got the small stature that reminds you of little adorable children you have to keep happy. As a half giant, names Greg, I can’t help but spoil her any way I know how. She’s got the innocent puppy eyes that you know will make you feel guilty when their sad. Sheel’a, our rouge, has got such a soft spot for those eyes, it’s no wonder we have so many dire wolf companions. She’s also got a lot of firepower, and an unexpected knack for tracking down strays. Terlek, our warlock, more than respects her for that.
That’s our party. The one thing we all share along with our love and respect for Suzie, our hatred for each other. Seriously, we’re barely a party. Sheel’a tries to take all the reward money. I will admit, I don’t trust warlocks. And Terlek…he just doesn’t seem to like anybody. The only thing keeping us together is the job, and Suzie. So when Suzie said we were all going on holiday, we grumbled but gave in. When Suzie said she had errands to run and wouldn’t be there, there was a whole lot of hullabaloo. Until Suzie pulled out her staff and the world seemed to go dark as she told us that the three of us were going on holiday together “and that’s final!”
So we’re going on holiday. The three of us. Any bets on how long this will last or who will die first?
It’s a normal day in the world. People move about their lives, working their jobs, going to work, and just being in the world. That’s said, except if we focus in on this tiny spot, in the little town, of Pila, Ohio, on a small road nearing Main Street. Birds seem to stop singing as an all black motorbike saunters on by. Screeeech. A crash occurs on Main Street as it passes. Ztzzzzz. A lineman’s hand slips, as the bike turns onto his street, and the whole block goes dark. The motorist is unphazed as they park in the lot labeled as “The Wine Park” via the neon lettered billboard. Or “The Wine” as they walk under it to enter the liquor store beneath it. The motorist never takes off their helmet, but each person in the store could feel their grin as the wine turned sour, and the produce rotted. The motorist strode toward a smaller worker near the back, lifted their visor, and the worker fell to the ground. It’s a normal day in the world, and it’s a normal day for the daughter of death and Chaos. A child of Hades and Persephone.
Pressure. Darkness. Solid. We found it in the mines of Calumn. Glittering like the sun once removed from the rock and brought to the light. But never enough. Cold. Wet. Jostled. We found it in the rivers of Qatar’d. Glistening like the stars among the pebbles. But never enough. Aseptic. Beautiful. Still. She lays out of the path of time. Waiting like Oppy on Mars, for enough sunlight to come. G01D is the only cure. But there is never enough.
So she sleeps, in the cryogenic cold, for the world to find all the gold.
The leftover raindrops, flowing from the leaves, poured like the life blood of an angel, glowing in the moon light. I watched it as I waited in shadow of the tree. It looked like a holy white light compared to the sick, dark, red ink that had poured from the hole in the mothers side. The same ink that now stained my hands. I reach out to holy light and watch the fluorescent water mix with the ink on my hands, forming a rust that seems to stay on my finger. Which fits, as I don’t think my hands would ever be fully clean.
The sun warms the sky overhead as it begins to shine down and glint off the buildings in the city center. A couple people look up to enjoy the view while the majority of the flow of people continue on their way without a thought. The stream of people continue through the city undisturbed for the most part. Occasionally, someone will shift the flow around them as they’ve tripped on a shoelace, or a sale catches their eye. Unknowingly, someone plucks a string invisibly above them, just before they shift. A muse, forcing them the opportunity off of their chosen path. If she were not invisible, they would be able to look up at a muscular young woman, floating up and around the stream of people, with a focused, calculating expression on their face.
“Which one next?” she thought. “This one goes on to their job day in, day out. That one is headed to a job about to get a promotion with a good pay increase, but will shave ten years off his life. This one has lost all sense of creativity in their job.” She hums to herself as plucks at silver threads, seen only by her eyes, attached to the people below. “This one.” And suddenly one of the crowd turns their head, as if hearing a call, and look to an alleyway. There, they see a weak puppy whimpering. They chosen person stops for a bit and then goes to grab the puppy and walks on again. “Ah, that’s always fun. It’s not often I get to use that one. They have a real special heart.”