'What's The Story, Morning Glory?' (new shit as of 8/11)
Posted: Mon Jul 27, 2009 8:01 am
DISCLAIMER: I HAVE THE WRITING ABILITY OF A FOUR YEAR OLD. THANK YOU COOK FOR EDITING MY TERRIBLE TERRIBLE GRAMMAR. I LOVE YOU FOREVER, EXCEPT NOT IN A GAY KIND OF WAY. MAYBE WE COULD JUST HANG OUT ON THE WEEKENDS OR SOMETHING, MAYBE WATCH THE GAME OR WHATEVER. WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
Tags: nosex hanako badend longreadnopayoff abstractbullshit ithinkthisguyhasasmokingfetish
There is a place, slightly to the north of a quiet town. It is a quiet sort of glade, well surrounded by the kind of persistent greenery you only find on mountains and the floor of the Aokigahara. It is nigh impossible to get to in any kind of vehicle, thus making it unworn and unvisited. There, if one looks hard enough, one can find an orderly path, kept clear of leaves and blossoms by some unseen force. This path leads to a hill, a rather large one. On the top of this hill sits a reminder. A cold stone reminder of what could have been. A representation of a person gone from this world, nothing more, nothing less.
Sets of feet on the soft earth. A woman with long hair blowing unrestrained in the wind starts down the path, accompanied by two poker faced suits. She is obviously a proud woman, but she walks with her head downwards, searching the earth as if the sky shamed her. There is absolute silence, the kind of quiet that not even birds dare break.
There is nothing but peace and the sound of feet, for awhile. And then they reach the reminder.
There is a pause.
One of the suits coughs lightly and straightens his tie, clearly not at ease. "Ma'am, remember you have an appointment at eleven today." There is another pause, and the woman nods dully, leaning down to sit a bundle of flowers on the reminder. The other suit looks at the nervous one in disgust.
"W-Well, if you'll excuse me." He turns and leaves more hurriedly then he came. The second man sighs, and reaching into his jacket pocket, pulls out a flask while approaching the grave. While he slowly takes a pull from it, tears slide down the woman's face, silently reaching the ground.
The man finishes his drink, looks thoughtful for a minute, then screws the cap of the flask back on. He puts it back in the jacket pocket and pauses for a second, before he reaches out and grips the woman's shoulder, giving it a affirming squeeze and turning to leave. He gets no more then a few steps before a whisper comes to his ears.
"Kenji. Thank you."
He smiles without turning around, and continues walking.
There is a pause. Longer then all the rest. Stasis seems to overcome the tiny hill and the figure upon it.
At last, after what seems like an eternity, the woman reaches out and slowly moves her finger along the indentations carved on the stone.
"Well, here we are," she whispers. Her tears have stopped. "I miss you, you know. Mari misses you. She's almost three now. She has your smarts, you know. She asked for her daddy the other day and I didn't know what to say." A pause, A mental dusting off. "I'm sorry. I know this wasn't your fault. "
She stands after a few more minutes of quiet recollection, staring downwards at the cold reminder. "I love you. I always will. Thank you." The words are at once practiced and solemn, like a farewell: she has to do this. She does it for her daughter. She has to let go, so she won't be crippled, drowned in her sorrow. She reaches up and brushes her long dark hair out of her scarred face.
She leaves, this time with her head held high.
HERE LIES NAKAI HISAO
"Requiescat in pace"
Tags: nosex hanako badend longreadnopayoff abstractbullshit ithinkthisguyhasasmokingfetish
There is a place, slightly to the north of a quiet town. It is a quiet sort of glade, well surrounded by the kind of persistent greenery you only find on mountains and the floor of the Aokigahara. It is nigh impossible to get to in any kind of vehicle, thus making it unworn and unvisited. There, if one looks hard enough, one can find an orderly path, kept clear of leaves and blossoms by some unseen force. This path leads to a hill, a rather large one. On the top of this hill sits a reminder. A cold stone reminder of what could have been. A representation of a person gone from this world, nothing more, nothing less.
Sets of feet on the soft earth. A woman with long hair blowing unrestrained in the wind starts down the path, accompanied by two poker faced suits. She is obviously a proud woman, but she walks with her head downwards, searching the earth as if the sky shamed her. There is absolute silence, the kind of quiet that not even birds dare break.
There is nothing but peace and the sound of feet, for awhile. And then they reach the reminder.
There is a pause.
One of the suits coughs lightly and straightens his tie, clearly not at ease. "Ma'am, remember you have an appointment at eleven today." There is another pause, and the woman nods dully, leaning down to sit a bundle of flowers on the reminder. The other suit looks at the nervous one in disgust.
"W-Well, if you'll excuse me." He turns and leaves more hurriedly then he came. The second man sighs, and reaching into his jacket pocket, pulls out a flask while approaching the grave. While he slowly takes a pull from it, tears slide down the woman's face, silently reaching the ground.
The man finishes his drink, looks thoughtful for a minute, then screws the cap of the flask back on. He puts it back in the jacket pocket and pauses for a second, before he reaches out and grips the woman's shoulder, giving it a affirming squeeze and turning to leave. He gets no more then a few steps before a whisper comes to his ears.
"Kenji. Thank you."
He smiles without turning around, and continues walking.
There is a pause. Longer then all the rest. Stasis seems to overcome the tiny hill and the figure upon it.
At last, after what seems like an eternity, the woman reaches out and slowly moves her finger along the indentations carved on the stone.
"Well, here we are," she whispers. Her tears have stopped. "I miss you, you know. Mari misses you. She's almost three now. She has your smarts, you know. She asked for her daddy the other day and I didn't know what to say." A pause, A mental dusting off. "I'm sorry. I know this wasn't your fault. "
She stands after a few more minutes of quiet recollection, staring downwards at the cold reminder. "I love you. I always will. Thank you." The words are at once practiced and solemn, like a farewell: she has to do this. She does it for her daughter. She has to let go, so she won't be crippled, drowned in her sorrow. She reaches up and brushes her long dark hair out of her scarred face.
She leaves, this time with her head held high.
HERE LIES NAKAI HISAO
"Requiescat in pace"