Project 52: Toppling Atlas

1 short story a week. 52 weeks a year.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Week Twenty Six: August 23rd - August 29th

Sorry for the delay guys. I've been using all of my writing time to work on an article I'm submitting to That will be up when the final draft is hammered out, but for now all I have is a new edition of my old emo poem "Plaguewood". I changed a couple of the versus, because I had grown tired of the word anchors (ex. I used to enjoy the word "grotesque" so I would focus a sentence around specifically using the word, but as I matured, I lost my love for the word, and actually grew sort of a dislike for it.).

Anyway, it's not a huge change, but here it is.

His ears hear a whisper, words full of dread
Horrible images fill his young head
A boy sits all by himself, alone on a porch
Staring at the forest.
Eyes, a flickering torch…

He tries to calm down, says it's all in his mind
but snaps back to reality when a noise is heard.
Eyes strain to see what the disturbance is
More than a sound
Less than a word…

Thinking upon the matter, the boy's mind jumps around
Out of the forest steps a women in a white satin gown

"Come to me" she whispers,
"Come lay down your head"
"Come sleep with me boy"
"Let us lie in my bed"

The trees throw on wicked smiles;
Their branches entwine.
A perfect picture, the beauty of nature
Wooden architecture, framed in vine.

Only an arm and a leg stick out of the wooden half circle
She slowly flutters her fingers, she flirtatiously raises her ankle
"Pay attention now child!" the trees start to bark
She crooks a lone finger, she disappears into the dark.

The boy becomes euphoric, the boy charges the arc…

Moonlight outlines his siren as he bursts into a clearing
Her body now pulses, her limbs disappearing
He rushes to catch her, but hands sink into decay
Her face shows a carved smile as it slowly melts away

The trees shriek with pleasure when a distant noise drones.
An icy night wind rips through the forest, chilling his bones.
The boy starts to run away, with hands turned into fists
Clenching up muscles, raised veins visiting wrists

Running blindly, the roar behind him growing loud
He loses his footing, body attacking the ground
Oh, what a wonderfully terrified facial expression
The boys slow depression
The winds swift aggression

The darkness engulfs his scream
A whisked laughter is heard in the distance
Shadows surrounds his fallen body
The look in his young eyes now glisten

The trees merry howling now starts to grow grim
A symphony of cackling laughter
A dirge of cracking limbs
It takes only seconds, and all light escapes
The shadows grow smaller, in convulsing, screaming shapes

And like a flame set to a picture beautifully drawn
when the shadows cleared up

He was gone....

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