David8
07-20-2009, 09:54 PM
I've started writing a short story, I'm unsure of the title of it for now though (now I have 'Ticking' in mind). This is the segment that I have for now, please let me know what you think.
He rests in a room, a prisoner, chained to an unlocked cell. He lies, watching the world crawling by through a window, dusted and rusted. Each figure casts a shadow of a memory yet unseen. In this position, he is of the world, but not part of it. Within these solitary desolate confines, he is free, unhinged from opportunities, out of responsibility’s grasp, and above obligations. His only need is to dream. Knowing there is none to awake him and no battles to be fought or pleasures to chase, his mind has found ease. Sorrow now exists only in the deepest realms of his memories, locked away behind solid doors of regret and contempt; but joy was something, somewhere, still to be found. Through the window, he observes over the days and nights. He sees their woes and their agony, but it is through this bleak suffering does he also see a ray of happiness shine eternally onward. He begins to gaze, rather curiously with envy, as they dance away the frosted winter nightfall and swim across the hot summer rain. Moving together. Living together. All as one and one with all. This lingering fondness undoubtedly grew into a wishful longing, then into an insatiable desire long overdue. He has realized his now endured fate; he is far from the sanctuary in which he seeks, banished to a sullen fortress within himself. He has become comparable to the ever striking clock crucified upon the bricks enclosing him, always moving, but never really changing. Trapped in his own enigma, a lost piece of a broken puzzle box, he was connected with nothing but himself. He learns now that he must break out. He must break free from this pseudo sanctum he has built around himself. Not knowing how this can be achieved, he must still conquer the obstacle, some way, some how, some day, free from a voluntary imprisonment.
He rests in a room, a prisoner, chained to an unlocked cell. He lies, watching the world crawling by through a window, dusted and rusted. Each figure casts a shadow of a memory yet unseen. In this position, he is of the world, but not part of it. Within these solitary desolate confines, he is free, unhinged from opportunities, out of responsibility’s grasp, and above obligations. His only need is to dream. Knowing there is none to awake him and no battles to be fought or pleasures to chase, his mind has found ease. Sorrow now exists only in the deepest realms of his memories, locked away behind solid doors of regret and contempt; but joy was something, somewhere, still to be found. Through the window, he observes over the days and nights. He sees their woes and their agony, but it is through this bleak suffering does he also see a ray of happiness shine eternally onward. He begins to gaze, rather curiously with envy, as they dance away the frosted winter nightfall and swim across the hot summer rain. Moving together. Living together. All as one and one with all. This lingering fondness undoubtedly grew into a wishful longing, then into an insatiable desire long overdue. He has realized his now endured fate; he is far from the sanctuary in which he seeks, banished to a sullen fortress within himself. He has become comparable to the ever striking clock crucified upon the bricks enclosing him, always moving, but never really changing. Trapped in his own enigma, a lost piece of a broken puzzle box, he was connected with nothing but himself. He learns now that he must break out. He must break free from this pseudo sanctum he has built around himself. Not knowing how this can be achieved, he must still conquer the obstacle, some way, some how, some day, free from a voluntary imprisonment.