Post by Sparky Cobalt on Aug 18, 2007 13:14:50 GMT -5
It was a wonderful Autumn morning. The sky was blue, the sun barely making it’s way over the horizon, and bird were just starting their morning’s first cries of joy and preparation. Animals stirred, while others returned to shelter to get some rest after a night of hunting. Mice scurried, bats screeched, trees creaked. The world was truly stirring from it’s not-so-peaceful slumber. And now, as if to counteract the bright morning, one boy was making his way to make his own sleep permanent.
His hair ruffled in the calming fall breeze, a small smile on his face as he proceeded towards the woods. In his right hand he held a large rope, in his left, a small, light stool, handy for carrying about the house while cleaning or any use in general. This boy planned to use it in a vaguely more sinister way. However, as there wasn’t some type of magical charm on the stool preventing it from getting used in a peculiar way, the fact that it was not built for what he was doing did not stop him. Little would, at this point, in fact.
His worn, black shoes uncaringly smashed the grass as he made his way to his destination. He could almost hear the insects screaming as he smashed them, sending them spiraling into death. Of course, it didn’t really matter: the insect, if it belonged to a hive, would quickly be replaced, and if it was solitary then no one would have needed it’s presence anyway. Most things in nature seemed to work that way, while humans seemed to have lost all touch with any kind of natural ‘order’.
Homo sapiens was slowly killing the planet, suffocating it with overpopulation and pollution. Various species of animals were being wiped out one by one, and soon enough there would be too many humans, too little food, and nothing they would be able to do about it. Hopefully by then, some alien force would come to keep the population in check, much like they themselves did with vermin, termites, and domestic pets. Luckily enough, Sparky would be long gone by then.
Because, indeed, that was who was walking through the Lawns towards the forest. Sparky, smiling, was planning on ending his extremely overlong stay on the planet. He sincerely had no idea what lay on the other side of Death, but now, he scarcely cared. All he knew was that he felt ready, prepared, for whatever It had to throw at him.
His laughably almost permanently affixed jacket was on, of course, even if he did not need it. He wore simple jeans, and a simple dark-blue shirt under the jacket. His gold-flecked brown eyes seemed sincerely calm for the first time in weeks; he had been on the edge of panic attack for a while, now. Even the smile seemed sincere, which wasn’t what you’d expect from someone holding the tools for a self-hanging.
But, whether you expected it or not, it was there, and so was Sparky. Choosing a reasonable tree, Sparky climbed atop the stool, and prepared.
Twenty minutes later, Sparky was finished. Calculations done, Sparky smiled at the tree whose branch he’d be borrowing. Mumbling a quiet apology at it, Sparky glanced down at the stool, before glancing once more at the castle. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he kicked the stool out from under himself, and let his own mind drift away to thoughts and dreams he’d had, away from the body struggling to find air. Perhaps, if there truly was a ‘Heaven’, and he was going to it, just perhaps he’d see his family again.
His hair ruffled in the calming fall breeze, a small smile on his face as he proceeded towards the woods. In his right hand he held a large rope, in his left, a small, light stool, handy for carrying about the house while cleaning or any use in general. This boy planned to use it in a vaguely more sinister way. However, as there wasn’t some type of magical charm on the stool preventing it from getting used in a peculiar way, the fact that it was not built for what he was doing did not stop him. Little would, at this point, in fact.
His worn, black shoes uncaringly smashed the grass as he made his way to his destination. He could almost hear the insects screaming as he smashed them, sending them spiraling into death. Of course, it didn’t really matter: the insect, if it belonged to a hive, would quickly be replaced, and if it was solitary then no one would have needed it’s presence anyway. Most things in nature seemed to work that way, while humans seemed to have lost all touch with any kind of natural ‘order’.
Homo sapiens was slowly killing the planet, suffocating it with overpopulation and pollution. Various species of animals were being wiped out one by one, and soon enough there would be too many humans, too little food, and nothing they would be able to do about it. Hopefully by then, some alien force would come to keep the population in check, much like they themselves did with vermin, termites, and domestic pets. Luckily enough, Sparky would be long gone by then.
Because, indeed, that was who was walking through the Lawns towards the forest. Sparky, smiling, was planning on ending his extremely overlong stay on the planet. He sincerely had no idea what lay on the other side of Death, but now, he scarcely cared. All he knew was that he felt ready, prepared, for whatever It had to throw at him.
His laughably almost permanently affixed jacket was on, of course, even if he did not need it. He wore simple jeans, and a simple dark-blue shirt under the jacket. His gold-flecked brown eyes seemed sincerely calm for the first time in weeks; he had been on the edge of panic attack for a while, now. Even the smile seemed sincere, which wasn’t what you’d expect from someone holding the tools for a self-hanging.
But, whether you expected it or not, it was there, and so was Sparky. Choosing a reasonable tree, Sparky climbed atop the stool, and prepared.
Twenty minutes later, Sparky was finished. Calculations done, Sparky smiled at the tree whose branch he’d be borrowing. Mumbling a quiet apology at it, Sparky glanced down at the stool, before glancing once more at the castle. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he kicked the stool out from under himself, and let his own mind drift away to thoughts and dreams he’d had, away from the body struggling to find air. Perhaps, if there truly was a ‘Heaven’, and he was going to it, just perhaps he’d see his family again.