Wasteland

We all have a path. We also have the choice to follow it.

Look at the sky... A fire in the distance casts out a tone of orange that distributes itself in a thin layer beneath the curtain of charcoal that compliments the smell of burning fluids. Lines glide between the black branches and bushels of dark green slightly illuminated be the flickering orbs that are happily mounted atop crosses. The sound of exhaust and a distinguished crackle break through the whistling sound of wind and mechanics as the machine rumbled to life and scurried across the gravel. Pairs of glowing eyes seek warily around blind spots causing slight commotion before the sounds of midnight insects and rural life are restored to the hybrid forest.

 

Shrouded in a black hood and sneakers, his hands pecked away at the keys as a means of entertainment in the conditioned breath of whatever brings them air. Sitting out in the open, hearing the random sounds and seeing the miniscule sights and what he figured is a very different way than every one elses, he found an initial feeling of comfort which was soon to be followed by a brewing feeling of confusion.

 

"There is nothing here."

 

Occupation was just a concept. Something that now became a neccessity that so conveinietly made itself unlivable without. The empty swingsets that stand at attention waiting patiently for such lose their momentum in dreaming of their golden years return through the warmth of a curious companion that is evidently and ambitiously oblivious of gravity. The creeking sounds of machinery in the distance seemed to replace the joyful hymn of chatter these pendulms once made as the overture of the night gave out subtle hints as to where all of these restless souls have gone.

 

You could hear the factory becoming bigger, better and more efficient. Well, at least those are the words that the suit and ties used to describe it. Everything was based off of efficiency, the new slogan for the turn of a new century. The yellow orb seemed to flicker in agreeance with his thoughts as it hummed and popped happilly atop its cross sending out small pulses that reflected off of the white paint of the pendulum.

 

The night was silent. Few people where about as most were where they should be. Everyone followed the rules of the suit and tie and carried out their concept at the factory. Everyone except him. It was quite different for the boy as he didn't speak. Not because he was unable to, but simply because he had no desire to express vocally what he had been saying for the seven years of his life. Few people listened to what he had to say, and even more forgot once they reached their concept. The chiming of the machines brought back memories. He typed faster to keep his fingers warm and drown out the sound but the drills, cranes and belts seemed to respond in fury.

 

Maybe they remember? He surely did. Dressed in long silk with a rhombus crown it would be a day hard to forget. It was the moment that he found the truth of all people including himself and the destiny he came to reluctantly accept. Over the years the event caused his reality to twist and soon he found himself wrapped in a cacoon of 1998 to shelter him from the words that began to peck at his ears once more. He mashed at the keys of the machine sitting on his lap to maintain focus and composure as the memories of the stage, ribbons and cheering whispered in his ears the words that seemed to seal the fate of him and all that he knew.  A slip of the finger due to a chill caused an error in his work that forced a hault allowing enough time for the infamous words of the suit and tie to haunt him once more. Maybe it should be accepted, maybe it was normal, but even the sounds of the factory could not cover the noise that he urgently tried to shield his ears from.

 

"Welcome to the world Mr. Sias and congratulations on your graduation."