The splintering bark showered him as the shot exploded into the tree a mere foot from his head.
“You can’t hide. I know every corner of this forest, and it will be your burying ground.”
Cresting the hill, he was drawn faster and further from the other. The downward pull gave him enough time to look over his shoulder and see the brim of the others hat as it came into view. “You must let this go! Accept the truth and understand its implication.”
“The truth…I am your truth. I am your death to come.”
With that, the second bullet sprang loose and a branch to his left crumpled to the ground. Hoping to catch his trailer off guard, he spun around a downed Oak and quickly pulled his trigger. The puff of smoke rose into the air as his chaser was spun around and thrown to the ground. A creeping silence fueled his head as he quickly reloaded while keeping an eye on the other who was now up on one knee reloading as well. “Forgive me for what I have done…forgive and forget.” He was half preaching and half confessing to the one struggling to stand again.
“Your words fall short of anything that could be considered a means to a living man. You must pay for what you have done, and nothing less than death will be your regret. You think your one bullet will do me in?”
With those words still rolling about the trees, they both grabbed aim, and they both fired. The sound was deafening, and then the emptiness of silence crept back once again. The exchanges of words were traded for gasping breaths on one end and silent prayers on the other.
The conflict had been settled. The victor felt no joy. The remorse carried far beyond the dying man that lay before him. Sadness lay on every footstep from now until his last days. As he walked towards the dying man, he came closer to not an enemy, but a once good friend who found out his truth and was unable to keep his motives under control.
“Tell her I loved her dearly. Tell her I did what I thought was right for both of us”, the dying man said choking in a few breaths.
The secret was born.
Unbeknownst to the restless victor there were eyes watching as the day’s events unfolded. The secret lived beyond the two. The truth had taken on a life of its own. Little did those peering eyes know that they would become caught up in a lifelong lie. A lie that would take many lives, destroy all who came within its grasp, and send a few to the depths of hell itself.
The voices grew louder and louder until she finally gave in. It happened so quickly. If not for the warmth slipping from her blood soaked hands, she would have thought it a dream. Then the most forbidding voice slowly began to return, urging her to finish. The walls seemed to embrace her as she once again lifted the sodden knife.
She fell to her knees as her blood continued to flow.
The voice then faded away as her eyes gripped the daylight, then a brighter light began to shine, and a knowing smile stole across her lips. One memory held tight—those who know will understand; the truth lies within.
The whispering morning breeze always accompanies that dreadful blue hue that signals another day, one more beginning with but one outcome; an end.
The blue is but another tender reminder of the unremitting circle of a play we call life. I’ve yet to lift my eyes out from under this scruffy wool blanket but I can tell from the scampering of the eager paws just outside these wooden walls that the blackness of night is giving in once again to that blasted reality of daylight.
When will my beloved night win this never-ending struggle?
Gradually I open my eyes and stare at my new day through the luminescence of that brown ratty blanket. Laying there I think to myself: What if I just stayed on this old mattress all day and just waited for the night to take over, again? I’ve got nothing to do, nowhere to go, and best of all no one to meet. It’s settled; I’m going back to sleep.
Just when my day was all laid out all hell broke loose at the door, the side window, and just outside the wall my bed rested against; those god damn dogs again, every morning, every damn morning they ran through this ritual. Playing as they may be, they might as well be a herd of traveling salesman peddling products they say I need to be a civilized upstanding and respected member of this charade called society. I left that society behind and I don’t need a reminder of it.
Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!
Hello friends, fellow writers, lost souls, and singing troubadours. If anyone is still looking over my blog, I apologize for the lack of input on my part…but—I do have a reason for my absence. The fault is all mine. No one but me feels the tragedy. The scars will never show themselves to the sun because they burry their arms deep within the thin skin of my eyelids. My enemy has finally laid itself to rest for now so that I can return to the ‘normal’ and give away the thoughts that feed within. I hope everyone is well and I look forward to reading every word you have written. So much time has been lost—Manic-Depression can be so cruel. The last three months in the VA Hospital have been grueling, exhausting, draining, and yet somehow defining. Here’s to writing what you know, writing what you want, writing how you feel, and writing just to write…
\ bawr-buh-RIG-muhs \ , noun;
1. a rumbling or gurgling sound caused by the movement of gas in the intestines.
“The stertorous borborygmus of the dyspeptic Carlyle!” declaimed Willie Weaver, and beamed through his spectacles. The mot, he flattered himself, could hardly have been more exquisitely juste.
— Aldous Huxley, Point Counter Point , 1928
Then her stomach grumbled and spoiled the silence. Quickly, Patsy pressed her hand against her complaining belly, and hoped that Ray had not heard it. “Suffering from borborygmus , I hear,” Ray dead-panned dryly.
— Bonnie Gardner, Sergeant Darling , 2005
Borborygmus comes from the Greek word borborygmós which meant “intestinal rumbling.”
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