Foggy train of foggy mindA Story by ZeeDeeVille
"What is going to happen?" He is on the edge of the cart, the wood beginning to splinter from its age. 17 years of traveling through my mind, and I never thing to rejuvenate any part of it. Paint cracked, and metal rusted, its weary carcass trudges on. Me. Absolutely me. His eyes glisten at the darkness below. "Why is it so dark here?" My mind, the epiphany of creativity, the colors, the emotions, the ceaseless thoughts. Why here was there absolutely nothing? Because this is his plane. As soon as I have crossed into this realm, everything disappears, and the memories become dark lonely wisps of smoke. I think of him, and I find us here, unnecessary, alone in the dark crevice of my mind. He does not belong here anymore. He was never meant to be here. I would have to push him off the cart, into the darkness. There is love in his eyes, but it is not for me. There is love in my eyes, but it is not for him. Yet the thought of having him gone from me... Upon this thought, the train moans in despair, it slows. These thoughts burden me. The boy looks at me again, his eyes full of...her. "Nothing happens next." I help him to his feet, he winces as the wounds I inflicted on him, cause him pain. Constant pain. What have I done? I snap him backward, my intentions to send him forcefully off of the train, to send him into the pit of my mind, to send him anywhere but here, I turn, poised to use my bodies utmost strength, I swing, the full force, his neck jerks back as he begins the thrust forward... I stop. I always stop. He sits back down, he looks at me. What am I doing? Why are you still here? What is this? We ride the train until another part of my mind begins to appear. He slowly becomes opaque, and fades away... © 2008 ZeeDeeVille |
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Added on February 13, 2008 AuthorZeeDeeVilleOrlando, FLAboutMy name is Anabelle I am Native American and Spanish I am an Artist in many forms I consider writing a beautiful art I have a poem out, it is published, I am really excited about that :) I don't reall.. more..Writing
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