Another Point Of View

Joining my artistic ability with my writing.

 

            Silently walking on the grey and smooth sidewalk, no particular direction intended. My mind slowly drifting to the depths of my mind, almost completely unaware of my surroundings or the cold stab of the winter air. I wonder what I look like, just casually walking in no specific location. My medium-lengthened dark brown hair swaying from the motion, a dull shine on it. My jacket, moving in and out like calm breath. The rhythmic sound of my stained and torn shoes tapping lightly on the pavement.

            I wonder if I had a sixth sense if I could see a trail of color left from my feet. The color of my aura, I can only imagine what color it would be. Once, I was told my aura was pink and light blue. I do not like pink; I suppose I’m prejudice against it. I wonder if I could see past events like ghosts unchanged by time… or maybe I could see ghosts but just too blind to realize it.

            No longer walking on the dull sidewalk, my shoes make a slight crunch sound as they shatter dead leaves. My eyes search blindly, never really looking for anything as I drift further into my mind. Do people think like me? It wouldn’t bother me if they didn’t. But, it is always fun to have a familiar conversation with someone every once in a while. What would it b like to know what people are thinking? I wonder if the voice that commands me to write this is similar to my real voice. Or is my thinking voice my real voice and my physical voice only part of my real voice.

            I want to say my thinking voice has no sound or tone. But, that doesn’t make sense especially since I can hear it. So very loud it seems now that I have brought attention to it. It is an echo, and echo of the memory of my physical voice, like a dream that shows fragments of the past and even the future at times. Ah, memory of the past so very different from my imagination, so very… limited.

            I can see me, my hidden eyes floating above my head; I walk on in the cold, the sun melting to the surface, the moon climbing its way to the top using the stars as support. My hidden eyes look around floating above rooftops as my body walks further, tearing apart the silence with every loud, but yet calm step. My physical eyes now locked in one spot, as if I sleep. My inner eyes exploring persistently, gliding above trees, their branches scratching the bottom of my eyes, I squint but fail as the branches push me forward.

            I smell dirt, cold tearing though me, black so very black. I lay on the ground, tripped. My feet now stop torturing the silence, letting it take its rightful place. I sit up and instinctively brush the earth off of me, never really connecting to it the way we humans used to. We as humans are now something alien to the world, completely disconnected from the truth it holds. I only stare at the ground, no more sidewalks no more rooftops only nature, shadows and the working moon. I stare ahead of me, ready to open my secret eyes again. The trees slightly sway whispering through the leaves. There is no wind, all these years I was right the trees do dance at night.

            I walk on, destroying the silence once again. Branches moving from side to side so very slowly, some touching while others only lean on way and then another. I am so close to the dancing trees now, my hand gently touches the rough surface. It does not stop swaying or whispering, instead it drops a leaf on my shoulder. I pluck it off me and stare at it. It shivers as if afraid of me, swiftly balling up. It slips through the gap on my fingers in front of my feet. The trees sounding almost like wind, but I still don’t feel any as they sway more, their motions becoming even more noticeable. I feel something smooth run up my leg, looking down; lifting my jeans I see green. I pull it off, the leaf now wrapping itself on my hand.

            I pet it, staring at it waiting for it to react. It loosens and lies in my hand, seeming to fit perfectly. I hear a strange noise, I look up the large tree is now leaning over me, all the leaves forming a hallow circle around me. Strange, the leaves seem to give off a slight glow in the blackness when they touch one another. The smell of the leaves joining the dirt is wonderful, so fresh. I walk closer to the circle forming around me and place the little leaf in the one gap. The silence has now disappeared and whispers of the trees and now the leaves can only be hard, such a gentle sound.

            The leaves now open, splitting like a door as the tree leans back. My hidden eyes are now exploring once again as well as my real eyes. Shocked as a light is illuminating off of my hidden eyes, I look at them with my real eyes, my hidden eyes are now the leaf, it floats letting a fake wind take it even though there is no wind. The grass stretches like hair standing up from fear, almost up to my knees. My hidden eyes are now gone, the leaf taking their place entirely. I step forward wind gushing through my hair as I am lifted into the sky, close to where the leaf as invaded my hidden eyes. The moon has disappeared under a shade of green, the fresh smell I wrote about before so very strong and everywhere. The sound of moving leaves everywhere.

            I look down, my body gone, my hidden eyes consuming my physical body. The leaf floats near my side, as if waiting for me to make the first move. I quickly appear on a rooftop, it is now covered with vines, dirt coving it completely. I try to feel it, only to find my face covered in dirt once more. I look up; I am now standing in front of the still trees once more. I have not moved; only fell yet again as I realize my eyes now can’t stay open. I head home.

            I now lay in my warm bed, the light off and a slight snoring sound can be heard from the room next to mine. I stare out the window, so close to my bed the curtains are pulled back and the moon playfully peeks in. My eyes slowly close gently, but before they are completely closed I see the leaf slipping through the crack in the old window and lays on my stomach. Now I only see black, followed by a slight shade of green.

Reviews

[J-Boo]

A hauntingly beautiful piece. I don't know if you are looking for grammar help or anything like that, but there were times when the sentence structure made the lines kind of hard to understand.

But I loved your imagery. Very appealing. The only one I might suggest changing is when your footsteps "shatter" the leaves - I don't think of shatter as a term that would jive with leaves crumbling. But that's all I noticed, really. Your descriptions are so wonderful that it is ivery easy for the reader to feel that he or she is right there with the speaker (her physical self as well as taking the ride along with her hidden eyes!)

[phantom]

I really like this one cause on days like to day i really feel parinoid like someone is watching me. This story takes me along for the ride I really like it.

[Gary H]

Enjoyed the spooky vibe in this. There seemed to be a greyness I picked up that followed me throughout the read. Ha! just noticed now that you used 'grey' in the first sentence. Definately an artistic styling. Oh, and for some bizarre reason I like trees. The first ever poem I wrote was about a tree.

[[untitled]]

This is so good! Very descriptive! I love your work!