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From the Cauldron
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From the Cauldron |
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Professor Gloom Member Elite
since 2000-07-23
Posts 3082of Depression |
Since I haven’t posted much, I thought I’d throw a bit of prose out to show what my mind has been drifting through. SF~Cottage She stood in the forest, but not too deeply inside. The trees had crowded around her on three sides and where still thin toward the town from which she came. The sky was clear and yet a fog held tight to the ground, oozing out from the warm to mix with the growing chill of the night. There was a log she sat upon looking deeper into the forest and trying not to think of anything. She didn’t want to think of the cottage, her mother, or her Aunt. She didn’t want to think about the clothes drying that needed to be taken down, folded and put away, not about the beans soaking, and not about the chores she had to do in the small garden. As the night seeped in about her the thoughts drifted away and her thoughts where gone leaving her a peace and calm that was difficult to obtain. Through the trees she noticed the half moon rising and realized she had been sitting there for quite some time in the peaceful state. A light streaked across the sky and her had went of its own accord to her belt and the scarf there. She felt the pearl inside and thought of him. Thought of him when she was trying so hard to think of nothing. She knew he was nothing or no one or none of her concern, but he kept invading her thoughts “A piece of the sky falling, broken off by love”. These sayings of his kept popping into her head. She should throw the scarf away, but it was of value and she couldn’t bring herself to sell it, yet. She stood and turned with a sigh and walked back to her little cottage on the edge of town. Just a paragraph that was floating Nocturne~ PW/ Stricker A Prose / Story I have been writing, a bit of it will show the tone, the overall story still has a long ways to go. If you looked for him you would be unlikely to find any trace of his life. It was contained behind a myriad of corporations, holding companies, tax shelter and even charitable institutions. He would be more likely to find you than you would be of finding him. Not that he finds anyone or even very many, but those he does find often are lost to all society. It is not that he is even looking, but he finds those that need finding because of where he goes. He walks the shadows of society. The night was almost over and the sky to the east were getting brighter. He leaned against the corner wall of the alleyway on Stricker watching the dissolving night sky and the shadows changing in the little park. He had to admit his weariness, at least to himself, as he ignored the grime of the wall he braced himself against. This was a backwash area with one side bordered by the railway track and most the houses either abandoned or in very poor repair. This time of the night was quieter and stiller than most, since the bars had closed hours ago and the drunks had wandered off to sleep. This was not a heavy drug buying area, although as with most of the poorest sections or the city, there was a fairly heavy drug use in the area. It was an old worn area, which might have been what drew him to it tonight, have the worn feeling through out his body. There was a redness to the sky, or perhaps it was just that he was looking through very tired eyes. He felt sleep calling to him, but he knew the nightmares waited in that sleep. Too many people he had known were gone to the dark of death and each day there was more suffering to the many that barely lived. He was about to wipe his eyes of the sleepless sand when he noticed movement across the park. On one of the benches, low for the children, she sat up and gazed into nothingness. Her clothes were dirty and torn and her hair was matted with blood. He started across the street toward her and she tried to stand up. On the second try she managed it and turned away from him and started to stumble across the opposite street. He had tried to look into her eyes, or eye since one appeared to be swollen shut, but there was nothing behind the look. She was barely there if still aware of anything. She cradled her arm like the shoulder was in pain, but made not a sound. As he stopped at the bench where she had been she fell trying to get up the curb to the sidewalk. He saw the blood on the bench and ground and knew she was almost to the end of holding on and wondered why she even tried to move at all. He looked to her crawl across the dirty sidewalk to beside a stoop of an abandoned house. She slumped, she had reached her end there at that place she had tried so hard to get to before expiring. He took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed. “Lust Wagon, where you want the passion draggin’” was the female voice saying in a rehearsed semi-sensual tone. “No lust tonight” he said in his tired and now morose voice. “Come to Stricker Park and no extra stops on the way” “Right boss, in less than five” and the voice was gone. He walked over to the crumpled body beside the stairs and bend down to feel for a pulse. It was still there, very faint. He turned her face to look at it and found a young woman beneath the blood, dirt, cuts and bruises. He kneeled beside her and she looked at him. She was trying to focus on who he was but she was too weak. “Would you like to leave this world?” he asked her. “Sure, anywhere else would do” “Even death” “Why not” and she slumped once more this time might be the last. He picked her up and carried her on his shoulder as he walked down the street to the corner. He stood there on the corner only a few seconds before a black sedan pulled up and a short woman popped her head over the top of the roof and frowned at him. “You picking up strays?” He opened the door and put her on the back seat. “Just picking up a lost penny,” He said to her as he took off his coat and put if over the girl. “Take her to Bruno.” “Kelly ain’t gonna like this” “Probably not, shoo girl, hurry” She was quickly off before he could even get out and dial his phone. “Hey Doc, I got a little something for you and if you could get to Bruno’s before it’s too late I’d appreciated it” He continue to talk as he headed for home not noticing the weariness of just minutes before. Gloom |
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miscellanea Member Elite
since 2004-06-24
Posts 4060OH |
Especially liked the Nocturne, Professor. It had good movement and word choice throughout. I admire the way you establish the setting within your prose or poetry. It's good to see you writing again. miscellanea |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
Read and enjoyed...you've got mail~~ Me |
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