Owl Watching
Clutching his coat closer to his body, he trudged through the thick fog. Steps unprepared,
unplanned, only to arrive at the statue posing in its eternal stiffness. The face carved
carefully, most obviously hand crafted with letters seemingly gargled and thrown up, left
misinterpreted but etched into history. Coins jingling in all 4 pockets, unspent and
almost as worthless as the promises that were made.
How-To books only revealed his worthless state, ripping out blank pages one at a time,
with the bright yellow façade guffawing at his precipice. The inevitable would amount to
an anti climax, one that would bother him for a while, one that he could possibly never
forget.
Tired screams were dismissed of their existence, after all no one was around to hear them.
A bloody mess lay at his feet as a deep drum drew closer and closer. Beads of sweat
delicately ran down his face, his palms gilded with blood as pure as gold. Precious stones
culminated into a vacant stare and slowly as the sun set, they shined no more.
Copyright © River Anton | Year Posted 2009
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