Wednesday, 19 September 2012
Saturday, 15 September 2012
Here is a short abstraction of the short story i am working on: The rain swallows me. It nullifies any surge of emotion. It is like the world is recounting its time and blanketing us with the forgotten memories of the day. The cold-moisture falls down the pits of my face; it quivers and jumps to the floor, where it smashes itself into the ground. Loss is something that is all too familiar. Loss… it’s like I never had it in the first place, because all that I remember is a silhouette, a reflection. This feeling will always bare a notch in the fracture of my mind; a notch, it resonates with each step that I take across this cobbled floor. It makes a resounding ‘clack’ with each step, echoing the fortitude of my tired feet. The ability to continue is frenetic. Yet, for now I can feel solace as the sky calms me; only, for the moment. You have to wonder, is it only in these momentary times that we can encapsulate everything. Encapsulate the world. Hold it, tighten our grip, crush it and throw it away like the trash that it is. For me at least, I find it somewhat human to envision and cast my nihilistic moods onto the world. Portray my own cynical clichés as the epoch of each culture. Mould and materialise my own little characters out of each society that I can point, prod and destroy at my own whim. With this I usually find control. It pushes my world back into balance. But, recently I have not been allowed, this precious ritualistic dismember of my conscious vision has been taken from me; torn away by the stupidity of each individual that I meet. When I realise that everybody I am surrounded by are too unintelligent to even consider a worthy opponent; it makes the kill taste sour and pointless. My name is Jacob… Jacob Maverint and I am lost.