Month: January 2016

Uncooperative In Nature And Art

Posted on by Greg

I hated this tree. It was uncooperative in nature and art; disagreeable in temperament. I had a sister once that behaved the same way. I still do, I guess, but we don’t talk anymore so past tense strikes me as being more appropriate.

Cooperation is hard for a creator to find, you know? Singular vision such as the vision I enjoy is hard to explain to the layman. Or this damn tree.

Then, all at once, there was no explanation necessary. A strong wind skated across the top of the water and every branch and limb the tree possesses lifted at once and the great green bastard began to assume the appearance of lumbering from side to side like some kind of gentle giant. It came to life before my eyes and did this dance for me alone: the only man who could interpret it.

I love this damn tree.

A Steaming Pulse That Is Undetectable

Posted on by Greg

It was only after he crossed the river into the open country that he realized how much heat was pulsing below the asphalt veins and arteries of the city. The temperature cooled noticeably as he moved further and further away from a steaming pulse that is undetectable when you are among those being boiled but from this distance is observable as a gentle haze obscuring the view of the city from which it rises.

I Felt Bad For Not Liking Them

Posted on by Greg

For years I allowed the world – or, worse: my idea of the world – to define me. My sense of self came not from within but from the people around me; people I didn’t understand, couldn’t trust and some of whom I just plain didn’t like. Yet I felt bad for not liking them. I didn’t feel I had the right to dislike anybody, even if I had compelling reasons to dislike them.

All of this just made me feel worse.

There Was No Light As He Walked

Posted on by Greg

The odor of beer and piss slowly gave way to that of day-old seafood scraps. There was no light as he walked and the adjustment from neon glow to darkness made him feel as though he was quite literally seeing red. A single light at the end of the block marked the driveway of his friend’s apartment block. He approached quickly as his fists clenched. There would be no need to knock on the door first.

He was prepared to let himself in.

The Peace Here Was A Fragile One

Posted on by Greg

The peace here was a fragile one and the tranquillity of those gathered relied upon it. Departures upset the balance but rarely to the point of calamity. New blood was always recruited quickly and new life was thereby breathed into a community that could be likened to a living and breathing organism.

This harmony could be maintained through almost any disruption save that of violence. Violence had the power to shift their reality; to break their tranquil state.

Violence punctuated their darkest chapters and suspended their narrative in a state of unease from which they were slower and slower to recover.