November 12, 2008

Me so sorry

I'll be typing up an awesome recap of my Halloween and autumn soon but I've not had the time to do anything lately. (So busy) I do have a story to share now (sorta late) that my ideals have changed. I'm having amazing adventures with coincidinkies. I do still believe what's wrote, let's just say the beet has found its juices though.

(last month's post)

Today I've got a story to tell. It came to me as I stood in the wind, my fingers crippling to the cold... Here it goes, pretend I'm a storyteller:

Deep into the forest, where the sun comes in like thin golden dust, beyond where any man has ever set foot, there strived a world of it’s own. In this world, prejudice ran wild, and opinions were made by the judgment of the hierarchy. Birds flying by do not dare to enter this meadow for fear of being alienated. Little rodents, seeking the shady corners of the forest for a crunchy snack, quickly turn around when they make contact with these repulsive creatures.

The creatures were twisted in all different shapes and sizes, with a deep scarlet tint in their faces. They owned no hands or eyes, only a little tiny pair of legs and an odd mouth, often big enough to snarl at as many other peasants possible at once.

Why am I being so obvious!?

Participant of the civilization was a true outcast. One of them, only he resided in a prison made of glass. One day he had fallen from the sky down in the meadow, in his container. He tried so hard to fit in but rolling around the rugged rug of the forest in a jar was not effortless. He was always late at the pretentiality meetings and his opinions could never be heard. He started to have very different ideals then everyone else, since he had known what being apart of the norm was, and so he tried running away, to find someone like him.

On his journey out in the forest he met nomadic gremlins, but they didn’t have anything to do with him, they couldn’t even speak his tongue. He found a few rodents scattering, thinking they could understand him. He rolled quickly towards them, but they discarded him. They didn’t want anything to do with any of his kind. He hopelessly wandered the forest, meeting up with a man made path and following it, wherever it went.

He kept walking, even though it had been weeks his jar had fallen in a fissure in the road and he moved forward no longer. When his energy was completely seeped out and he was swimming in his purple sweat and tears he finally let go, and floated lifelessly in his jar.

One day after, he had heard horses coming in the distance, would they want to speak with him, probably not. The horses seemed to have stopped just beside him and a glimmer of depression stabbed him. Something removed the weeds that were growing on his lid, and then held him up. A human was looking at him, interested. The poor guy tried to speak but he couldn’t speak. His impowerness grew him angry. The man put the poor guy in his chariot, but he didn’t want to go anywhere, he wanted to be left alone. He started bashing at the glass with his body and feet. He fell asleep, a great big hit to the head, failing to break the material. And he awoke in a dark lit place. Beside him was another jar. Excitement arose inside of him like never before. He started to scream, joyfully mumble in his juices. In the other jar was a long green woman, warts all over her body, he was screaming too, smiling with her eyes. Finally what they both had longed for was there right beside each other, and they lived happily ever after… Until the man ate them of course…