PHQ-Nickname:
hollow
Halfquake:
Radical Perfection
Level:
21
Total kills:
711,304
Birthday:
September 25th 1985
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| Mood: | depressive |
| Type: | Story |
| Added: | June 10th 2005, 04:02:09 |
| Visits: | 1160 |
| Rating: | Not rated yet. |
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He looked at the mirror and tapped it. First peering at it closely, than walking away and back. Away and back. Looking in. He then went away, and returned with a pad of paper and began to write something, looking at it and the mirror. If there had been someone else in the room he would have turned to them and gently ask them (gently because he knew the request was irregular) to come and look in the mirror.
She would come and say, "no sorry sir, I see nothing beyond myself and the room around me reflected at me." He would be standing close by (but not too closely by) and would reply, "There is a man without a right arm writing something on the mirror steam with his finger. He must be foreign." The person with him might ask, "How do you know?" and he would turn from lining the mirror like it were a page with words, and make a pained face. "Although he writes it backwards, so that the letters are the right way around for me, it is worded as a foreigner would."
This suit wearing gentleman would then return to writing down what he saw in the pane of glass. He, should there have been an interruption before, have ignored all outside pleas for attention then, writing it down, because it ocurred to him that it might be important to do so. After writing it he would go to sleep, leaving the paper to be read as anyone who would wish it. It would read:
Without the sun this plant or that plant would shrivel,
it is not much known the sun would dry up without flowers.
The sun has more insurance against this peril; it does not need every single flower;
while each flower needs the sun.
It is common for people look at the flowers more often, which is funny; that's because it doesn't burn
to content and look at flowers
There was a woman once looking, as it was common, at flowers in a public place. she saw the light glinting off the petals,
and did not think to look up.
Now there was a man who approached her and took a handmirror from his pockets. Watching himself and the woman through the mirrorglass, "It is necessary now, in my state of mind and temper, that I murder and rob you."
"Clearly you must desist and not do these things. They cannot be necessary." She purred demurely. He fought the spirit within him urging him to look at the woman directly to her face.
He continued his plea through his mirrorglass. "Then I may not kill you, but it is necessary that I rob you." The sun continued, as it had been, to shine by path of the handmirror, to the specific spot of the man ' s throat. He swallowed. "Would you be thirsty?" he asked. "I am not, because you are in ill faith against me. However if you were not, then I would be thirsty."
His voice cracked, "I suppose then that you mean your wish did melt. Mine did too. Shouldn ' t have left it in outerspace, but it ' s so cold out there; so far from everyone. That ' s why I died. They want you to think it ' s because there ' s no air-that is of no import. It ' s being at such a great distance that murders."
The triumphant woman, "but you are back now," smiling, "or will be soon."
"not my wish,"
"it became yet another moon for jupiter,"
"a scientific curiosity. Forgive me, I must go." His mirror is dropped, but has no cracks. His back is not broken, but he walks on the cracks. She is compelled to turn her head, for the dropped glass reflects the sun to her eyes just so. The flower has been murdered since she plucked it, and in a few days the radiance bleeding will all be gone, invisible puddles staining a table. |
Legion
June 15th 2005, 16:04:48
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| Such pleasant fiction. |
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Legion
