On my trip to Missouri, when I was a kid, I saw a dear torn in half when hit by an 18-wheeler. A few years later I saw the remains of a rottweiler that had been hit by a train.
Asterisk used to play chicken with trains, standing on the tracks as they honked in vain. Not truly a game of chicken, seeing as how the train can't swerve. He stopped after one night, rather than honking, the conductor shut off all the train's lights. Risk described it as transforming the train into a bullet of death cloaked in darkness.
I always wonder how people can be hit by trains like you hear on the news. It HAS to be suicide. How can you not hear a train approaching? Even if your headphones are on too loud, you'll feel the ground rumbling.
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You know that feeling you get directly following a traumatic experience? Where it feels like your spirit stepped to the left as your body stepped to the right? A bit like those scenes in Chronicles of Riddick, when the Necromonger tries tearing Riddick's soul out.
Then you're left feeling, not like you're watching a movie or in a movie as yourself, but that you are a deceased actor in an old classic movie. You are not you, You are nonexistent, but there's something going on here and someone should be watching this. Like YOU are Charlton Heston
in the epic Ten Commandments.
I saw a man get hit by a freight train.
I hardly ever mention it. I don't want to mention it again.
The Beating...
The speeding feet in the pounding rain. The perpetual beat of a heart. Pounding blood. There is a cave in my heart.
Stepping out of the rain, into the shadows, the noise transitions from the wash of the cloudburst to the flow of your anxious blood. Then to the pounding of your heart. It's so loud. Terrifying, yet trusted.
The roar is overwhelmed by the beating. The beating of dark membranes. You have disturbed them. You are enveloped by their plethora of leather-silk wings. Neither bird nor beast, the ostracized. Bats. After they have settled, you see the moonlight reflected in two tapetums. The truth in those eyes, is it familiar to you? Or should you be frightened? How many lives has this creature lived?
Come in, friend. Step closer, enemy. You were washed by the rain, rinsed by the darkness, dried by the wings, and clothed. By a purpose.
Am I a panther? Am I the dusk?
Stepping out of the rain, into the shadows, the noise transitions from the wash of the cloudburst to the flow of your anxious blood. Then to the pounding of your heart. It's so loud. Terrifying, yet trusted.
The roar is overwhelmed by the beating. The beating of dark membranes. You have disturbed them. You are enveloped by their plethora of leather-silk wings. Neither bird nor beast, the ostracized. Bats. After they have settled, you see the moonlight reflected in two tapetums. The truth in those eyes, is it familiar to you? Or should you be frightened? How many lives has this creature lived?
Come in, friend. Step closer, enemy. You were washed by the rain, rinsed by the darkness, dried by the wings, and clothed. By a purpose.
Am I a panther? Am I the dusk?
THE PLAN for Labels
CHARACTERS are influential people in my tales.
BROWN is tales from a span of ages.
WHITE is tales from age 0-7.
RED is tales from age 8-14.
ORANGE is tales from age 14-21.
YELLOW is tales from age 22-28.
GREEN is tales from age 29-35.
BLUE is tales from age 36-42.
INDIGO is tales from age 43-49.
PURPLE is tales from age 50-56.
BLACK is tales from age 57-63.
Grey is an insight into how these tales may be affecting me.
BROWN is tales from a span of ages.
WHITE is tales from age 0-7.
RED is tales from age 8-14.
ORANGE is tales from age 14-21.
YELLOW is tales from age 22-28.
GREEN is tales from age 29-35.
BLUE is tales from age 36-42.
INDIGO is tales from age 43-49.
PURPLE is tales from age 50-56.
BLACK is tales from age 57-63.
Grey is an insight into how these tales may be affecting me.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Train Spotting
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1 Responses:
Yikes! That must have been quite shocking- seeing a man get hit by a train. But at least you've never seen a baby beeing dashed against the rocks as some people saw during the Armenian genocide in Turkey...
I'd probably no longer feel human after witnessing that.
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