From: dreystarke@aol.com (DreyStarke)
Date: 03 Mar 2002 21:02:03 EST
The night was brittle because of its lack of clouds--it made it simple to condemn. That was the way of the noble perhaps; corruption. It was his ritual to passby and convict to damnation.
He was out--no no, more set loose than out. Released from the rapture that he called home, and set free into the womb of the forest that enwrapped his solemn, yet tranquil property, came out the conspiring Cimmerian noble. You couldn't see him, but it was undeniable to the keen traveller of his undying footsteps and the bickering of his billowing tarnished cloak that flapped in his wake.
Thus, that traveller, petrified in his stupor to comprehend the means of his surroundings, slowed his nonchalant walk into an uneasy, tiptoe throughout the trail. The trail was old, consisting of pebbles and itty bitty clumps of raw mulch--it made it easy for the noble to track his prey through the incessant crackling that pronounced his presence.
This has nothing to do with what is about to happen--no, it is about how secure the world is. That at any moment, at any time you wander through any where, you are agreeing to an internal, off-handed contract--a contract that agrees to the terms of being vulnerable. Vulnerable to instantaneous of tortuous death; it does not matter.
In that night, that wary traveller agreed to that contract, and that contract, binded to corruption through it's imaginary scripture, stunted any more living.
Vulnerable
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From: ynonsparrow@aol.com (Ynon Sparrow)
Date: 20 Mar 2002 00:47:50 EST
The dawn crept slowly over the road, illuminating each pebble and tuft in its own time, patiently reaching for the gulch on the easterly side of the road. There it paused, as if loathe to tumble into that darkness and what lay within. Like a lady's maid swatting spiders... thorough and quick to the point of desperation, so she may never have to complete the nasty task
again... the line of sunlight rushed down the slope, crawling over the sickly gray skin and torn flesh of the corpse huddled there in an unnaturally broken posture.
For a long time that morning it seemed as though the entire land held its breath, not even a breeze stirred as the sunlight crept on to the forests and fields beyond the path. Suddenly, a blaspheming fly bumbled along, trailing the (to it) sweet scent of death and early decay, lighting on the dead man's nose.
The fly, either preoccupied with its new find or simply unconcerned, never bothered to buzz off as soft footsteps crunched slowly into being along the path, moving parallel to the corpse and its guest.
The footsteps paused, then turned. A shadow drew across the fly, and finally it took wing, scuttling off on the breezeless day.
The tip of an unstrung bow gingerly reached down and tilted the corpse's head. Grudgingly at first, then finally more compliantly, it rolled aside and flopped bonelessly the opposite direction.
The shadow descended, growing in size over the gruesome, highlighted corpse. Silver vein-traced fingers gingerly plucked at the dead traveler's wounds, the crimson stone beating with some dull internal light.
The shadow shrunk again as its owner straightened. A moment later even the shadows cast by the broken body scattered as a blazing white light lanced into the corpse's chest and the body burst into flames.
The sound of crackling flames accompanied footsteps crunching back to the trail and away, leaving the smell of burning flesh to linger on the air.
Long after the flame had consumed the corpse and the ground around it, the fly came bumbling along once more. Confused as to where its meal had mysteriously gone, it sketched crazy patterns in the air for a moment, searching for the source of such a (to it) delicious scent, but only finding the charcoal and bones beneath. After a few moments of futile searching, it simply flew off.
Date: 20 Mar 2002 00:47:50 EST
The dawn crept slowly over the road, illuminating each pebble and tuft in its own time, patiently reaching for the gulch on the easterly side of the road. There it paused, as if loathe to tumble into that darkness and what lay within. Like a lady's maid swatting spiders... thorough and quick to the point of desperation, so she may never have to complete the nasty task
again... the line of sunlight rushed down the slope, crawling over the sickly gray skin and torn flesh of the corpse huddled there in an unnaturally broken posture.
For a long time that morning it seemed as though the entire land held its breath, not even a breeze stirred as the sunlight crept on to the forests and fields beyond the path. Suddenly, a blaspheming fly bumbled along, trailing the (to it) sweet scent of death and early decay, lighting on the dead man's nose.
The fly, either preoccupied with its new find or simply unconcerned, never bothered to buzz off as soft footsteps crunched slowly into being along the path, moving parallel to the corpse and its guest.
The footsteps paused, then turned. A shadow drew across the fly, and finally it took wing, scuttling off on the breezeless day.
The tip of an unstrung bow gingerly reached down and tilted the corpse's head. Grudgingly at first, then finally more compliantly, it rolled aside and flopped bonelessly the opposite direction.
The shadow descended, growing in size over the gruesome, highlighted corpse. Silver vein-traced fingers gingerly plucked at the dead traveler's wounds, the crimson stone beating with some dull internal light.
The shadow shrunk again as its owner straightened. A moment later even the shadows cast by the broken body scattered as a blazing white light lanced into the corpse's chest and the body burst into flames.
The sound of crackling flames accompanied footsteps crunching back to the trail and away, leaving the smell of burning flesh to linger on the air.
Long after the flame had consumed the corpse and the ground around it, the fly came bumbling along once more. Confused as to where its meal had mysteriously gone, it sketched crazy patterns in the air for a moment, searching for the source of such a (to it) delicious scent, but only finding the charcoal and bones beneath. After a few moments of futile searching, it simply flew off.