Short story.
Feb. 8th, 2004 08:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
logansrogueI thought of this in bed this morning. It's pretty morose but I was really quite pleased with the idea, because it was kind of sad but had this nice little supernatural theme to it. It's just a concept I found intriguing, not me contemplating my own end, so you can relax. :) (I'm actually in a slightly better mood, thanks to many hours work at the computer on my music). Anyway, it's not edited, it's just something I'm throwing up for amusement's sake.
Pavement.
As far as pavements went, it was rather unremarkable. To him, however, it was beautiful. Gleaming, glittering, the tiny fragments of granite amongst the concrete winking at the sun above, straining to reach it through the haze of smog. People walked past it, over it, treaded upon it without a thought to its significance, to how important it was. They didn't even care to ponder the meaning of a withered bunch of flowers placed at the base of a street light pole.
He remembered very little. He stuck to the square of pavement and didn't stray, and when people hung around too long he kicked at the tin trash can next to the street light or threw an empty drink cup at them. They would glance about, a bewildered look upon their faces, a streak of terror there at the unexplained flight of a perfectly innocent looking paper cup.
He would do that when they treated his beautiful little piece of pavement as any other piece of pavement.
In his floating, drifting mind he could see the bold white chalk on the pavement tracing the shape of a body, but it occurred to him that it didn't really look like that, his body, when it was lying there. Thanks to the fall, it was a much more haphazard, horrifying shape.
That wonderful white chalky line spelt the end of one thing and the beginning of another. There was something else, something important he knew he was supposed to go on to experience, but he would put it off. Just one more day, he thought, just one more day gazing at the pavement, and the pretty flowers no one understood the reason for.
Pavement.
As far as pavements went, it was rather unremarkable. To him, however, it was beautiful. Gleaming, glittering, the tiny fragments of granite amongst the concrete winking at the sun above, straining to reach it through the haze of smog. People walked past it, over it, treaded upon it without a thought to its significance, to how important it was. They didn't even care to ponder the meaning of a withered bunch of flowers placed at the base of a street light pole.
He remembered very little. He stuck to the square of pavement and didn't stray, and when people hung around too long he kicked at the tin trash can next to the street light or threw an empty drink cup at them. They would glance about, a bewildered look upon their faces, a streak of terror there at the unexplained flight of a perfectly innocent looking paper cup.
He would do that when they treated his beautiful little piece of pavement as any other piece of pavement.
In his floating, drifting mind he could see the bold white chalk on the pavement tracing the shape of a body, but it occurred to him that it didn't really look like that, his body, when it was lying there. Thanks to the fall, it was a much more haphazard, horrifying shape.
That wonderful white chalky line spelt the end of one thing and the beginning of another. There was something else, something important he knew he was supposed to go on to experience, but he would put it off. Just one more day, he thought, just one more day gazing at the pavement, and the pretty flowers no one understood the reason for.
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-02-08 07:08 am (UTC)Hi, Nacey
Date: 2004-02-08 08:08 am (UTC)Re: Hi, Nacey
Date: 2004-02-08 08:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-02-08 09:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-02-08 01:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-02-08 01:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-02-08 01:41 pm (UTC)