Thursday, January 15, 2009

The Turn

Continued from Part 2

I opened the door to the outside, light shining through the cracks in the wooden frame. The cold air from the previous night warmed with the rising sun, taking the twilight dew to the large clouds above my head.

Flowers rose from the ashes of the violence, springing upwards defiantly towards the sky. I placed my bare feet on the bed of green, digging my toes into the moist soil. I breathe, standing amazed at the resilience of nature - never faltering despite our stupid ways.

That's when it happened.

A firm hand cupped over my mouth before I had the chance to curse everything to a frozen hell. The crystal sky of my dream rippled into reality, metamorphosing into the twisted witch of our dire situation; I replace my hopes and dreams with a desperation to survive.

That desperation has in turn fueled my devotion to a dream - I wanted to go home where everything awaits that's been taken from me, and to see that through I have become the monster I had been running away from all my life.

Bodies of orphans and soldiers lie beneath our feet. A cruel simile to the midnight carnival of fire, brimstone and blood. We had done wrong, and they were here to play the judiciary role of undertaker.

"You move and they'll find us."

"What the hell are you doing? It's over and you know it."

"We can take them."

"No. We deserve this; it's time we paid for our sins."

A cold hard stare ended the unspoken conversation. Hands found their way to the automatics lying carelessly on the floor, readying for the rush of adrenaline that comes with squeezing the trigger.

"We can still escape."

There was no more talking. The same men I followed out of the prison threw themselves into the fray, catching our pursuers by surprise.

We are but animals living on the edge of instinct and gut feel. However we try we still end up where we started - wanting to play god so we can change the rules. It's a huge cynical roller coaster ride and we're at the big dip; life unravels before us in the blink of an eye, seemingly spontaneous yet following the single metal track, unyielding to the forces that grinds against it.

And when we face the bottom of the fall, we know it'll only some time before the next high. It travels quickly along level ground, losing its speed but yet we anticipate our climb up slowly, our expectations escalating to the climax of circumstance.

So we stand, looking down at the metal tracks; wishing for wings, fighting for dreams, and ignoring the cries of our sanity.

There isn't much recoil this time; a monster has no need for hesitation.

-End of Part 3-

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