THINKING OUT LOUD

I woke up to dispersed patches of a cornflower sky, meekly peering through the treetops, yet still gently shaded against the background of a pale yellow glow. I quickly hopped up with the prospects of the day, exhibited through the gaze of an all encompassing warmth. I found my footing amongst the dirt of the cool dense earth, and in that moment, everything was reliable in its natural solidity. Looking down at the ladybugs insignificance scurrying across the individual blades of viridescent grass, I began to feel a sense of vitality in their quick, impulsive steps. The swiftness of the morning breeze carried my alertness to a more acute and aware state of being, everything was sharper, more precise, and in this newfound state, I began to feel hungry. Scanning through the luscious grass, pushing past its quantity and depth, I was finally able to catch a glimpse of something with a crimson luminosity. Inching closer, I further examined the scene, What was it? but a bushel of ripe nutrients against a dew covered scene. There they sat firmly settled within the semblance of beautifully vibrant vines. I was enchanted by there extravagance and, of course, not being rude, I decided to indulge myself on their delectable juices and carry on with the intricacies of my day. Most times you can find me laying in the fields trying to find salvation and comfort in listening to the birds sonorous rhythms, but today was different somehow. I still listened to my friends harmonious vibrations, but instead of dwelling in the bushes, I decided to roam the wilderness for something more. I wandered around for sometime, guided by the various forces of whatever compelled me to leave the familiarity of my field. In those moments I was grateful for the journey I had made, seeing beautiful streams where fish glided past one another in an effortless flow, smelling the detailed veins on the flower petals brilliantly blossoming into season, and hearing the frogs croaked there own unique melodies in prideful boasts of seriousness. I travelled along the edges of the tall grassline, still so thick and heavy with the weight of light yellow grains, causing a slight tilt in the curvature of their posture. After proceeding in this manner for sometime, I began to feel tired, and so decided it would be best if I took a quick nap. I soon found out that this was not a nap at all, but rather, I had fallen completely asleep. When I woke up, I was completely encased by the presence of a surrounding darkness, slightly more chilling due to lack of moonlight, and with a strange air beginning to circulate. During the nighttime I couldn't see as well, so I wasn’t as able to figure out where I was, let alone where I had previously come from. Then, just as I had decided on a direction to pursue, I slowly began to feel a subtle wetness layered against against the top of my head. Then the drizzling suddenly became momentous and I was soon drenched by the a downpour of mother nature's cruel tempest. With the strong winds pushing me back, purloining even more of my senses, I was unable comprehend even the slightest of silhouettes. Explosive cracks of thunder echoed against the resignation of my ears. The electric pulsations of lightning quickly scattered throughout the sky with a neurotic shock. Chaos was rapidly encompassing the environment, and with this happening in such a short period of time, I began to feel a deep primitive fear rise within my sensations of discernment. With destruction soon closing in, I decided to try and find shelter, but in my hasteful anxiety, I made an error in judgment. Running in a panic-stricken jolt, I zigzagged to the safety of a closed area of shrubbery. I immediately realized this place was far from any aspect of security, and that I had just made a huge mistake. The next thing I knew was that I was now trapped in a wet entanglement of some kind. Looking around, I had soon understood that I was within the clutches of a thousand vines and bristles all seamlessly wrapped around my frame. Everything wasn't too bad, until I soon began to feel the piercing of spines ripping into the various layers of my skin, tearing my flesh with every pull and struggle. I tried to free myself, and escape from this insufferable pain, but all efforts of pushing and kicking and tightening were of no avail in any pursuit of a quick escape. Small amounts of blood were beginning to drip was from the small incisions, and in this position of hopelessness, I began to become morbid. I started imagining my own death, and seeing my own bones decay within this hellish pile of sticks and brush. During this time of elongated panic I began to think that these thorns were purposely interwoven for the creation of my demise. In this position of utter despair, I began to pray, and said “God, please help. I don’t know if you are real or if you care, but I need your help and I can’t do this without you.” I don't know why this is happening to me, but I really need you, then I began to become agitated with my prayer and it quickly spiraled into a resentful plee, I said “Honestly God why are you doing this to me? Is this because of the strawberries? I swear I had no idea that you liked them so much and will never eat another one for as long as I live, if you'll, please, let me live!” after that I began to cry, and searched my surroundings for any familiar sight to find a sense of direction, and beyond the distance of a thousand glistening drops of rain, I was able to make out the resemblance of a path, covered by a veil of muddy wreckage, and left to face the destruction of the storm, but it was a path, and I thought maybe God had heard me and that me hateful begging didn’t piss him off too much. Either way, it didn't really matter, because I was still stuck, and inbetween the last moments of hyperthermia and blood loss, I finally pushed myself for a final attempt of freedom. With a conglomeration of muscle and gravity, and all the willpower I had left in the depths of my energy, I thrusted myself forward one last time, and was able to snag the last archaic stingers, still embedded in the recesses of my skin. I was , but freedom has its own costs because, in midst of this hellstorm shower, I was still severely injured. On the bright side, even though I was still frightened, it was the exhaustion and physical turmoil that dulled my panic of the ever persistent thunder. I knew that I still needed to find shelter though, and thought it was best to run amongst the shadows of the sludge ridden path. The longer I persisted down this unknown path, the more I became all too sure that I wasn't going to find anything and that, maybe, if I was lucky, it was going to lead towards a dark abyss that would be able swallow me whole. Due to my anguish and exhaustion, this idea didn't seem so bad to me, so I continued my journey and was eventually led to a bright opening. I heard loud noises, distant, but still somehow ever so intimate, it was as if something was yelling at me or maybe even warning me, even as the foreign invader to my senses. I soon began to explore and started to see strange symbols and figures, still familiar, but somehow more assertive in their meanings. I stopped to observe these obscure images and began to decipher them in my head. S-T-O-P . “ I wonder what that even means?” I thought. But I didn't think enough of it, still enduring the pain of tiny punctures, still deeply transfixed within my thin dwellings of my body. Then, furthering my search for a more habitable place of security, I saw something bright. The boisterous roar of motors ignited by the fire of a burnt oil smell, the screeching of rubber against the cold wet pavement, a tragic culmination of surprise and mortification portrayed through the involution of expression. Life as existence frozen against the frigid air. Two white lights.

She rode through the streets with a sense of pleasure on the pretext of a day infused with the tranquility of an afterstom. Enjoying the grey simplicity the world brought about, she continued on her rain soaked bike ride, but decided to take the long way around the neighborhood. Viewing the black birds perched on the electrical wire, talking to each other in their own unique languages, she wondered if the animals had a sense of conscious thought, and if they did, then what they even thought about. Ultimately she was a bit envious of how animals got to live their lives, so free and independent from the tedious restrictions of difficulty. Caught up in her own fog of cognition she almost ran into the gruesome scene of calamation. There she saw, lying lifeless on the asphalt, a dead rabbit, tragically disbanded across the road with tracks of dark blackness left in its wake. Stopping and examining the poor creatures entrails she began wondering who would do this? On her ride home, she couldn’t help but think about the rabbit and it’s disfigured corpse ridden with tiny cuts and bruises. She began to wonder what had really happened? She looked down at it looking at her with a cold blank stare and an indescribable silence that haunted the depths of her mind. She then thought to herself “was this what the world has truly come to where we can run over life and thoughtlessly leave it to die alone?” Even though she was just one minuscule person within the scope of a billion, she decided to preserve its memory with the respect and dignity it deserved. She got home, peered out through the dispersed patches of cornflower sky and began to express herself through the writing of a short story.

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