...
"The lake, he lake, oh how we love that lake... Water is beautiul, isnt it? It glistens in the setting sun, it dancing with mist in the rising heat of the morning, always like spirits waking from the netherworld to watch us ith a round, blue eye... It gives so much life and love, it sustains us, quenches our thirst and washes our mind, our souls... Without such a gift, where would one be? Dry as the dust that rides in the desert winds. And yet... I cannot think of a more morbid killer than water. Even those souless shells that rip us from limb to limb, tearing a smile into our crying faces, stealing our organs for transplant to the black markets..."
A grin flickered on his pale, sharp face.
"Water is the most gruesome murderer. So fickle, our gift of life. The backstabber... One once told me that water was my element."
The snaps on his guitar case echoed through the world like the manic giggles of a madman. So he went through his strange cycles of spouting morbid stories, odd nonsense and death-like silences. He rose to full height with his case in hand, his free fingers covered by his pocket. His asinine hair whipped around wildly in a random flurry of winds.
"We are kept here for a reason. On earth. Even if we want to fly free. We are here, alive, for a purpose. And I'm walking home today. So, don't expect a ride."
The odd, free moving panels of fabric danced behind him as he drifted away.
"Find that purpose and they will set you free...!" he called back to them, his ocean colored eyes ablaze with inner glory. How long would this spurt of discovery last, he wondered painfully...
"I wouldn't mind some company, you know! For god's sake, we don't live that far apart and I know that at least one of you didn't drive today!"
When no one stood, he ran.
"The lake, he lake, oh how we love that lake... Water is beautiul, isnt it? It glistens in the setting sun, it dancing with mist in the rising heat of the morning, always like spirits waking from the netherworld to watch us ith a round, blue eye... It gives so much life and love, it sustains us, quenches our thirst and washes our mind, our souls... Without such a gift, where would one be? Dry as the dust that rides in the desert winds. And yet... I cannot think of a more morbid killer than water. Even those souless shells that rip us from limb to limb, tearing a smile into our crying faces, stealing our organs for transplant to the black markets..."
A grin flickered on his pale, sharp face.
"Water is the most gruesome murderer. So fickle, our gift of life. The backstabber... One once told me that water was my element."
The snaps on his guitar case echoed through the world like the manic giggles of a madman. So he went through his strange cycles of spouting morbid stories, odd nonsense and death-like silences. He rose to full height with his case in hand, his free fingers covered by his pocket. His asinine hair whipped around wildly in a random flurry of winds.
"We are kept here for a reason. On earth. Even if we want to fly free. We are here, alive, for a purpose. And I'm walking home today. So, don't expect a ride."
The odd, free moving panels of fabric danced behind him as he drifted away.
"Find that purpose and they will set you free...!" he called back to them, his ocean colored eyes ablaze with inner glory. How long would this spurt of discovery last, he wondered painfully...
"I wouldn't mind some company, you know! For god's sake, we don't live that far apart and I know that at least one of you didn't drive today!"
When no one stood, he ran.
