0
votes

The Bunnyman & Echo (Unfinished)

posted September 8, 2008 - 3:37pm
The Bunnyman & Echo (Unfinished)

Repeating an everlasting routine, sweating blood rather than the usual body fluids, Doors were slammed. Blinds were closed. Trees were assonated by lightning. carrying the symbolism every black and white story relies on and, finally, a vast mountain range of enveloped letters were topped with more unwanted advertisement and mail. His selfishness shields the emission of skill and effort. Endless tributaries of words, handwritten or typed by delicate limbs wasting away with every meaningless day of work for an unnecessary capitalist society. The expenses of post following the virus like effect of inflation and suffocation of credit, too are ignored pitifully. Even tragically, mimicking the consuming, unmerciful, indecisive cabinet that govern him, the appreciation for the compassion and loyalty when donating milligrams of saliva to ensure safety for such an important notice is discarded like meaningless binary. The words forever locked inside are vital for a lonely mans moral. They can, at least, provide reassurance that debt and lack of communication still exist.

Whilst the mountain continues to swell with infection, the unnamed can only reassure himself, quietly, over and over again. One day the letters will stop. Then he will complain that everyone has forgotten him. Narrators all over the world will prepare well spoken resignations at the thought of glorifying pathetic lonely hearts members.

Patience becomes alien to the man as the usual ambience of television, wireless radio and numerous other forms of radiation fail to provide. A brow disfigures his wrinkled and cold face as it lifts as far as he can turn his head.
Mail floated suspiciously in midair. It followed the regular line of fire from the door to the first class mountain range, clamed for Queen and country by the Valiant Postal Service. Helpless raindrops sparkled, frozen at high speed. Not being able to present a satisfying explanation as to why their journey down the window had been obstructed somehow frustrated him.
Even the air felt still. Eyes exploded with fear while he struggled to swallow the stiff particles.


Tags:

Comments

I like this

I liked this even though it almost seems that you intentionally being a little artsy-fartsy. To use language as art is not a bad thing, mind you, just as long as it doesn't seem forced. This seemed a little forced but I still liked it.

Visit my homepage here

Follow me on Twitter here

Comment viewing options

Select your preferred way to display the comments and click "Save settings" to activate your changes.

Post new comment

  • Lines and paragraphs break automatically.
  • You can use BBCode tags in the text. URLs will automatically be converted to links.
  • Allowed HTML tags: <p> <br> <b> <a> <em> <strong> <cite> <code> <ul> <ol> <li> <dl> <dt> <dd> <img> <span> <object> <param> <embed> <table> <tr> <td> <div>
  • Web page addresses and e-mail addresses turn into links automatically.

More information about formatting options

Join Xomba Today

Do you like to write? Would you like to make a little extra money on the side? These people do. Join the Xomba community today.
Become a Member