Zudonim3
02-13-2017, 07:55 PM
He walked along a narrow dirt path, separating the meadows on each side, dulled with the autumn.
The tidy, cultivated forest ahead, accompanied by the river current not far to his right; gave the scape and the setting a solemn richness.
Not a soul was to be seen around, and the breeze coming from the mountains, some distance to his left, carried with it a dampness. The sky was dull, and so the sombre scene of fall was exacerbated considerably, as if death himself had crossed the land not long ago.
He walked across a small worn, wooden bridge over a small spring current which converged with the river not far away.
Something had drawn him to this place on this day, and perhaps it was the brooding emotional void which haunted him like a spectre, since the marking event.
He entered the forest, under the overarching trees where the path would take him further towards the mountain.
His steps became slower as the path began to slope upwards, and all he could hear was a faint ringing in his left ear. He looked up through the twisted, sad looking branches above, and wondered whether it would begin to rain.
The hiking path became narrower as he wandered further, and as the groves of slumbering trees on each side started to close in, something nipped at his sanity.
He closed his eyes and ephemerally, everything around him brightened up and became green and alive.
You're so slow. Come on!
As he opened his eyes and looked down at the grimy, moist ground, scattered with decomposing foliage -- a disgusting feeling began to seep from within his hardened core, pushing through the pores of his sickly skin.
He looked back up, hoping it would begin to rain, so that the nuisance of cold water would replace this infernal filth beginning to grasp hold of him, then turned back at the point where the path diverged, and never returned.
The tidy, cultivated forest ahead, accompanied by the river current not far to his right; gave the scape and the setting a solemn richness.
Not a soul was to be seen around, and the breeze coming from the mountains, some distance to his left, carried with it a dampness. The sky was dull, and so the sombre scene of fall was exacerbated considerably, as if death himself had crossed the land not long ago.
He walked across a small worn, wooden bridge over a small spring current which converged with the river not far away.
Something had drawn him to this place on this day, and perhaps it was the brooding emotional void which haunted him like a spectre, since the marking event.
He entered the forest, under the overarching trees where the path would take him further towards the mountain.
His steps became slower as the path began to slope upwards, and all he could hear was a faint ringing in his left ear. He looked up through the twisted, sad looking branches above, and wondered whether it would begin to rain.
The hiking path became narrower as he wandered further, and as the groves of slumbering trees on each side started to close in, something nipped at his sanity.
He closed his eyes and ephemerally, everything around him brightened up and became green and alive.
You're so slow. Come on!
As he opened his eyes and looked down at the grimy, moist ground, scattered with decomposing foliage -- a disgusting feeling began to seep from within his hardened core, pushing through the pores of his sickly skin.
He looked back up, hoping it would begin to rain, so that the nuisance of cold water would replace this infernal filth beginning to grasp hold of him, then turned back at the point where the path diverged, and never returned.