asher marquering
servant of a battle oath
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2006
- Messages
- 210
just another random idea that i had wat you guys think
Mister Sepulveda
The fire lit up the large room. In the room, there was an alternation of the sound of breathing and drinking. From the man’s glass came the unmistakeable smell of whiskey. The room was peaceful and comfortable; the low temperature battled with the fire, only the pain in the man’s mind disturbed the peace. The man closed his eyes, tears replaced bitterness and anger towards everything. The man quickly wiped the tears away and his anger returned, first towards himself for his slip of manhood then towards everything else.
He placed his glass on the small table and leaned back reclining the armchair slightly. Behind his eyelids came the usual amalgam of sensations concerning his son, the sight of the moist baby still attached to his mother, the sound of small clumsy steps. The smell of the children’s ward at the hospital he was a sickly baby but he turned out surprisingly athletic. The feeling of having to let go on in front of the pre-school gate, the sun on his face chasing after the boy on his first bicycle, the pain of disappointment in catching his son smoking, the pride while listening to his sons stories of girls.
I love you Addy
I love you to dad
Good night son
Night dad
Sweet dreams
You to
Then the sight of his empty bed
Mister and Misses Sepulveda it has been 6 months
His wife began to cry
I will not give up on my son
I understand sir but the police cannot pursue this forever perhaps a private investigator or psychic
Then the sight of the female psychic
Your son is in heaven
The immense anger overwhelmed him again as it did when he first heard those words five years ago. He opened his eyes and sat forward breathing heavily and holding his chest. He felt in his pocket for his medication and sprayed it into his mouth.
Switching on the television, he flipped through the channels
“There is a forty-five percent chance of an avalanche at Mount Aharon.”
Nonsense this mountain has never hurt us
“The villagers are advised to prepare.”
He looked out the window just as it began to snow; he got up to fetch more wood, threw the wood in the fireplace, sat down again and fell into a gentle dreamless peaceful sleep.
When he woke up the light snow had become a horrific blizzard. He wondered if his ex-wife was safe. Through the blizzard, he saw a stationary figure at the base of the mountain
That is a bit idiotic
He had barely finished thinking to himself when he saw massive sections of ice on the mountain break away from its surrounding ice.
They began to rush down the mountain. The sound was horrific worse than a thunderstorm. The air had become different slightly fresher as the ice charged down the mountain. The wind also changed and now blew in the same direction that the avalanche was moving. It was also colder now as the ice moved down the mountain. He imagined the pain that the figure at the base of the mountain would be in and then began to run to the opposite end of his house trying escape the approaching avalanche.
Then suddenly the ground was still and the blizzard stopped he turned around and saw an angel with black wings standing in his lounge. He was slightly shocked
Is this the angle of death?
“Hello, have you come to take away my pain angel?”
“Hello, I know you suffer but that will stop now, things will be different from now on, dad.”
Mister Sepulveda
The fire lit up the large room. In the room, there was an alternation of the sound of breathing and drinking. From the man’s glass came the unmistakeable smell of whiskey. The room was peaceful and comfortable; the low temperature battled with the fire, only the pain in the man’s mind disturbed the peace. The man closed his eyes, tears replaced bitterness and anger towards everything. The man quickly wiped the tears away and his anger returned, first towards himself for his slip of manhood then towards everything else.
He placed his glass on the small table and leaned back reclining the armchair slightly. Behind his eyelids came the usual amalgam of sensations concerning his son, the sight of the moist baby still attached to his mother, the sound of small clumsy steps. The smell of the children’s ward at the hospital he was a sickly baby but he turned out surprisingly athletic. The feeling of having to let go on in front of the pre-school gate, the sun on his face chasing after the boy on his first bicycle, the pain of disappointment in catching his son smoking, the pride while listening to his sons stories of girls.
I love you Addy
I love you to dad
Good night son
Night dad
Sweet dreams
You to
Then the sight of his empty bed
Mister and Misses Sepulveda it has been 6 months
His wife began to cry
I will not give up on my son
I understand sir but the police cannot pursue this forever perhaps a private investigator or psychic
Then the sight of the female psychic
Your son is in heaven
The immense anger overwhelmed him again as it did when he first heard those words five years ago. He opened his eyes and sat forward breathing heavily and holding his chest. He felt in his pocket for his medication and sprayed it into his mouth.
Switching on the television, he flipped through the channels
“There is a forty-five percent chance of an avalanche at Mount Aharon.”
Nonsense this mountain has never hurt us
“The villagers are advised to prepare.”
He looked out the window just as it began to snow; he got up to fetch more wood, threw the wood in the fireplace, sat down again and fell into a gentle dreamless peaceful sleep.
When he woke up the light snow had become a horrific blizzard. He wondered if his ex-wife was safe. Through the blizzard, he saw a stationary figure at the base of the mountain
That is a bit idiotic
He had barely finished thinking to himself when he saw massive sections of ice on the mountain break away from its surrounding ice.
They began to rush down the mountain. The sound was horrific worse than a thunderstorm. The air had become different slightly fresher as the ice charged down the mountain. The wind also changed and now blew in the same direction that the avalanche was moving. It was also colder now as the ice moved down the mountain. He imagined the pain that the figure at the base of the mountain would be in and then began to run to the opposite end of his house trying escape the approaching avalanche.
Then suddenly the ground was still and the blizzard stopped he turned around and saw an angel with black wings standing in his lounge. He was slightly shocked
Is this the angle of death?
“Hello, have you come to take away my pain angel?”
“Hello, I know you suffer but that will stop now, things will be different from now on, dad.”
