Passions in Prose |
...introduction...waiting? |
rich-pa Member
since 2000-02-07
Posts 317New Orleans, Louisiana |
ok, this is my first try at prose in avery long time. He sat on the curb. Rough curb. Pieces cracked and shifted into various tiers by aggressive tree roots-oak? He looked up at the lumbering giant of a tree. Yeah, oak tree roots. And mottled by pioneering grasses, pushing up through the cracks and crevices, living green against lifeless gray. It always amazed him how grass, soft, comforting, a bed, managed to overpower the cold concrete. Nature versus Man! This Sunday at the Superplex! An endless struggle... He was waiting, though, there on the curb, watching the occasional passing car. There were fewer cars now than there had been some years ago. No new models were born out of the factories, factories long ago shut down and salvaged for anything useful, the old ones just died, unrepaired and forlorn. But they did make handy shelters when one was traveling, as long as you were up to fighting off any kind of animal that-he had once stumbled across a bear. Had he ever run faster than that? He wasn't sure. But they made good shelter when on the road, just be careful of prior tenants. A bear? He laughed to himself in retrospect. He could have died. Slow. Creeping. A car passing. Craning necks and staring eyes out of the sooty gray windows. Watching him. Everyone stared when they didn't know you. It was a rarity to see someone you didn't know, especially given the popular use of clan type living, where everyone knew each other and controlled their territories. Or at least that's how it was in most towns...provinces? This one could always be different; communication was minimal at best between peoples. Most of the clans weren't violent either, just real suspicious of outsiders. But strangers weren't rare for him, he traveled a lot. Where was he headed? He wasn't quite sure, but for now he was waiting, sitting on the curb, rubbing pebbles under open-toed boots, open toed through age and wear. Fashion? What was fashion? He remembered it was something that people used to do, now they just lived. He sighed to himself. Live. Where did that bird come from? It hopped along the sidewalk, curious of him. Brown with dark red spots? Yeah, dark red. It was cute. It had been a long time since he had seen a bird. ...and that's as far as i've gotten.... [This message has been edited by rich-pa (01-28-2002 07:48 PM).] |
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