Sunday, June 26, 2016

Thinking about the Past (Part VIII)

       Summer has brought not only the heat, but also new ideas and a lot of inspiration to write. Let's grab the moment.

Thinking about the Past (Part VIII)

Markithors would not come out of my head.
They became the drugs of my imagination.
Such drugs that make you feel awkward, but so damn good.
I tried to do a small investigation on them, but I failed.
The G detective was now helpless - markithors were not mentioned anywhere. Neither were markoths.
I subconsciously felt that I was related to them and I had to ask the city in a very gentle way.
It looked at me, its eyelashes touching the sky.
I recognized that angry look of an animal, a wild beast lurking over the corner.
I didn't expect it to react so abruptly - its claws were already under my skin...
Two hours on the floor and a pool of saliva damped my hair to the roots.
Was I sleeping?
The city was sitting on its haunches with the sheet of parchment in its teeth.
I spoted the sign of markithors on the paper.
Did it allow me to learn about them?
My eyes were soon filled with the most innocent tears a human may produce.
Did the city hurt me? Will I get scars?
No, it could not possibly have happened.
I must have fallen asleep.


Friday, May 20, 2016

Thinking about the Past (Part VII)

          Being in the realm of my imagination, I stumbled upon a new people who taught me how to survive.

Thinking about the Past (Part VII)

I was there - in the woods where the city had left me.
The flowers were not beaten by the rock of a foot.
I looked around - yellow petals of roses were damped by the tears of due.
Obviously, the city knew I adored yellow roses, especially with the drops on their monarchic bodies.
It was not a dream, and it was not the meadow from Twilight (anyway, not with those poor flowers replanted for the sake of the romantic scene).
The city went to the cave - it was an old sacred place for rituals of markoths.
The latter were proven to have inherited the land from their elder brothers of blood - markithors.
I remember the city showed them to me - majestic vehicles of strength and power.
Tattoos were covering their necks like the chains of spiders running from danger.
The city then pointed to one of them and bowed its head.
Sah - it was she. The most influential female from markithors.
She was an idol for the city.
I saw its tremendous adoration, when it looked at her image.
Was it jealousy? I guess so, but it was exactly what I needed to become better for the city - to cross my fingers and fight.
Just like she did.
They say she killed more than 100 markithors coming to see her, when she was only 2.
The invincible Sah knew everything!
And when I just for a second thought what could be found in her head, I shuddered.
The city went to see her grave.
It was situated under the cave - she was lying in the tomb of silver.
Should the city bring the red soil (the poison markoths used to kill their predecessors - markithors) from her grave again, I will grab it eat its bloody crosses.
Meanwhile I will fall asleep…


Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Thinking about the Past (Part VI)

        Every day something happens to us. We either benefit, or lose. Today I wish all of us to require something pleasant and important, something that will change your life for the better.

Thinking about the Past (Part VI)

The city is looking at me. I see that something is happening in its head.
I cannot tell what exactly, but I am sure it concerns my attitude to the city.
I cannot call it “he”, because I don’t want to so far.
I’m content with our friendship and I do not want to spoil our relationships.
Making the city too humanized, I will never be able to trust it.
This personal pronoun “he” is some kind of a taboo for me.
What if the city doesn’t share my feelings?
What if it will never look at me again with its eyes full of dressed diamonds?
What if … Ah… I see what has happened to the city.
It is feeling (even as I’m thinking about it at this very moment) my anxiety.
The power of my thoughts has been spread over the galaxy.
When the words were written on the paper (and even for the second time when typed), the city transformed them into some tiny dribbles.
The latter went far. They must have inhabited all the possible lacunas.
I could see how “smile” and “Cheshire” were floating over the table.
“Alice, I have stolen your Wonderland”, I thought for a moment.
The city has never smiled like a Cheshire cat.
It smiled lightly, only sometimes did it smile loudly and it was hilarious.
I could even hear the trembling of my front doors.
Sometimes, a vase fell on the floor and the pieces went down under it and made a necklace for the soil.
Under these circumstances, I could not possibly punish the city.
I could not think about it, when the city was nearby.
After all, it must feel the freedom in my world.
Even if I own the world, I will not create the rules.
They will appear on their own, when the city falls asleep…