We are the gray
We are the lost here. The crumbling few who ran our feet dry running away from a boring life. Scraping black top cement with our bare toes in sweltering spring heat. Deploring our quench for mundane needs like fish swimming in the sea.
I write these words sitting here on a creaky old bed smelling of must. “Follow your heart, and You’re heart will guide you right.”
Words I suggest you become a cheetah and escape into the seven seas of hell before you follow. Unless you want to end up like me inside a room with no heat, sitting lonely, and hearing the sound of a ticking clock to drive you mad.
A nightmare for anyone feels like a punch to the ribs. It makes us shiver as we try to shed off the memory before rolling over and trying to shut off our eyes, except we can’t. The image stained on mine is drawn in permanent marker.
A stench of wet sludge, slippery leaves, critters, and scurrying worms rotted into my nostrils. Bringing with it a whiff of garbage from a passing eighteen wheeler truck. Aaron’s knuckles clenched around a rusted ratchet with twinkling emerald eyes from flickers of frosted light. Trickles of sweat doused his face as he gritted his teeth like a snarling cat.
It wasn’t supposed to be a tumble down a hill like Jack and Jill. Fumbling along with momentum till you’re too dizzy, and can’t uncurl your body due to agonizing pain. But you have to move, and the movement is like walking through a thick marsh. Every step feeling like forever.
Trees swayed teasing a dazzling sapphire above with their long branches casting shadows. Creatures flurried about making a lively scene if you were a nocturnal owl.
A shovel bent against a thick brown oak tree. I tried wiping away crystalline drops as sharp as a lone ice berg in the middle of the ocean. Daniel’s a good kid, a great friend, and a person I invested everything I couldn’t give Aaron into. He’s a child who got spoiled for simple achievements, treated like a king, and could pick up girls like Danny Zuko from Grease.
“I don’t know about these chicks- they’re only good for one thing.”
The ratchet slipped from Aaron’s hands clanging as it hit a rock. He hesitated before reaching for the shovel and starting to dig till the sky changed a multitude of colors, and the sun burned our eyes as dawn approached.
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I am currently remodeling my story. Any suggestions or help is fine. I don’t mind a critique that is harsh.
