Thursday, November 15, 2012

When boredom strikes

Last week I was sitting on my couch, watching TV, when I received a message from a friend asking me to go with him somewhere. I told him I cannot come because no one's home, I'm alone and I don't have the keys.  The words "I'm alone and cannot do anything about this" opened some blocked nerve and I grabbed pen and paper to write this down, it took me a few minutes to write this:


I am alone here, lost. It is dark, I am precipitating, it is winter, my hands are numb. Faint incoherent sounds, an owl hoots. I can sense life here, someone cries in pain. Visions of the tragic massacre, slaughter of helpless people in this very forest, heads and bodies scattered around, a sea of blood. To this day the trees bear the mark of that evil; the stench of death remains, painful cries can be heard. Deep in the shadows I see a vague silhouette of a large man. For years they have been baffled by the story, wondering who could kill so many people, who could be so merciless. Little do they know of the evil that is yet to come, I can see it. The apparition moves forward. It has strong legs for its steps sound like battle drums; I know I cannot outrun it. I am trying hard to recall my prayers; I was never a devout believer, emptiness. My chest is heavy; it feels as if someone is pounding me with hammers. I wish someone wakes me up, a twig falls on my head, this is not a nightmare. I can see some light in the distance, maybe I'll find help there but what if this prodigy catches me first?


(found this in RB's drafts, I don't know whether it's complete or not. However, I thought I'd publish it for him anyway. - Furree)