In the air a shape hung under the moon. An inverted heart, the passage of jets or passenger planes. The ground crunched underneath Mikel's boots and he huffed small clouds in front of his face, still warm after passing through the scarf wrapped tightly around his mouth. Mikel's pace was brisk; his feet barely seemed to do more than touch the ground for a moment before he was off again, his hands tucked under the opposite arm, pressed firmly against his sides. He looked as one does when laughter siezes the entire body, shaking the ribs clean and pushing the air out of one's chest.
Mikel stopped and looked up at the moon for a moment. The air was crisply dry(as it often is in that area after a snowfall) and his eyes watered as he stared at the only companion he saw in the night. The road was empty of people, bereft of any animal sound. The cold and the snow had done much to send living things towards comfort, towards the familiarity of sleep and the zen adage of patience. Patience! Time will make the snow pass and melt, a sinking sugar rush for the earth below. Grass will sprout like soldiers from the dragon's teeth, and the air will feel thick with warmth, with diluted laughter that still echoes in the inner ear. In time the moon will set and all that is left behind is the memory of it's glow against the forceful attentions of the night, of the sun, of the girls and boys in our hearts.
Mikel's feet started to move again in quickened rhythm. One two, one two. The snowy ground cracked and sprang the sounds of gunshots across the city. He stepped for a moment between two lampposts along the sidewalk, and, in the inky perfect darkness of the abscence of light, he disappeared.
-Rich
this suicide
Mikel stopped and looked up at the moon for a moment. The air was crisply dry(as it often is in that area after a snowfall) and his eyes watered as he stared at the only companion he saw in the night. The road was empty of people, bereft of any animal sound. The cold and the snow had done much to send living things towards comfort, towards the familiarity of sleep and the zen adage of patience. Patience! Time will make the snow pass and melt, a sinking sugar rush for the earth below. Grass will sprout like soldiers from the dragon's teeth, and the air will feel thick with warmth, with diluted laughter that still echoes in the inner ear. In time the moon will set and all that is left behind is the memory of it's glow against the forceful attentions of the night, of the sun, of the girls and boys in our hearts.
Mikel's feet started to move again in quickened rhythm. One two, one two. The snowy ground cracked and sprang the sounds of gunshots across the city. He stepped for a moment between two lampposts along the sidewalk, and, in the inky perfect darkness of the abscence of light, he disappeared.
-Rich
this suicide
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