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Living Among the Demons |
| Written by August Blackwood | |
| Wednesday, 02 July 2008 | |
Note: This is sort of something I wrote out of a stream of consciousness, so if you don't understand what's going on, or if its really bad, I am terribly sorry.
Life was too short for Lucy; at least... that's what she had inclined to believe. A second later, and all of that life, if any, might disappear with a wink of one still eye. Her friends always told her that and their words were as convincing as stone, if that be the word to use. Nothing and no one could be trusted. Contrary to such an idea, she still hung out with her girl friends, most of whom dressed in black and dyed their hair murky grey. They had black cell phones and often communicated with her via the devices to tediously describe their daily routines, of which she had little to absolutely no interest. But, just as it was, she was only hanging out. She had other friends, true friends of the heart; they were of much more comfort. They prompted her to ponder the forbidden thoughts, and ponder she did. It was one night that Lucy began to realize her terrible philosophical mistake. As she fell into a deep slumber that night, she discovered that essence was not the cause of existence, but that existence was what preceded essence. She had to make up with what her life had given her, and to ignore its inconsistencies. And so, she wondered into a soft pasture among golden autumn leaves, prancing with the horses and hares. She knew she was in need of solitude, alone from the world outside of her growing soul, the soul that dwelt within her since her early childhood. She sang every day, she readied a delicious dinner for herself every evening, she bathed every dawn. Every hour passed by a field of roses in peace and she felt once again with herself and away from them. Every moment passed by with care and focus. Never did she understand the longing of her heart. For her soul called out to them, to them, those she left behind to linger in the flaming fires. Although she roamed through such a wonderful atmosphere at the moment, it was not long before she spotted one of them, hiding in the shadows of a wading duck, grasping on to feathers and peering with those piercing eyes. The sun shone brightly overhead and the shadows gradually evanished. She woke up. And that was the last she remembered of her walk in the world of dreams. She walked out again, but this time from her room. She went to school. And there they were, again. She saw them. Under her cafeteria table, eating at the crumbs. Friendly, cute beings. She forgot them, and so did they. But now, remembrance returned. Little did her words express the desire for her dear parents to know of the tormenting eyes that watched for their daughter like longing, adorable balls of dust. They didn't have long to wait, for a month later they entered a darkened girl's room only to discover the vanished candle flame of her existence as they traced the blood-stained slashes in her sulfur-yellow wallpaper. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Beings in black sang in a circle, surrounding a lonely coffin, closed for the comfort of those left behind in the light. And that pivotal scene, of end, of triumph, and of ticking clocks. They all painted her life and its abandonment. The mother raised her veiled and tear-stricken face and whispered to her nearby husband with a slight fleer, "It was them," wiping away the bothersome wetness from her cheeks, brushing them off as if they were nothing. "I know, my dearest wife. I know..." he nodded at her with an awakening look of bright beams. And another mother, standing conveniently by her side, nodded her head with a sneer on her lips as the majority of the participants mirrored her action, leaving the others to silently fall back into negrescence after they had offered their roses of departure. Copyright 2008 August Blackwood |
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| Last Updated ( Wednesday, 02 July 2008 ) |
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