An Old Story

Probably from the summer of 2011… I was into vague syntax and weird storytelling.

Shirtless hitchhiker walked past As I enter into the woods, he had a large graybeard and just nodded at me. I entered the trail and dead spouts of grass and seed hung over the small trail. Crickets chirp yards away from me making a Nuance of something sacred. the trees were sparse and stood still for the cicadas rattled high up in the trees amongst the golden rays of sunlight. The trunks were tall, tall and very thin, and there were many of them and they stood like an army and they spoke softly to me the words of eternal wisdom, stay true to yourself. Young sprites, flies, random flying insects, courted me through, buzzing past my left ear; is the left one sweeter, was the right one just Wrong? They did not speak but they guided me through the roots that drove up from the ground onto the trail. The only marks and trails seem to be the only thing that was left from any human, and the only other unnatural sound was the roar of airplanes blast into the sky, carrying many passengers to their destination, could only be seen as a tiny blue jet jetting across the sky. Walking and walking over the moist, crunchy ground, a stone statue stood erect amongst all the tall, tall and very thin trunks of trees. He store off into distance seemingly unaware of all the cicadas and crickets, sprites and spirits, and even the trees and even the sunlight and even the time and even the space. He had one hand up as erect he was and another hand cradling the shepherds hook, possibly to welcome and gather the visitors of his domain. As I came closer, I noticed that his eyes were half shut like weighted stones laid upon them as he was made of stone. Some kind of genuine indifference to the erosion of passing time and the smearing of the humans breath. I stood there and admired his charisma as to not move, so I felt obligated to not move for some time. He passed me a gentle tranquility that spoke softly into the chirps of birds, into speckles of sunlight on the ground and the trail that ruggedly past to him. A meteor shower of cold, eerie voices washed upon me as a shadow would come creeping forth from the darkness of a night toward you. a sudden cold wind shifted into place, I felt I might leave. I turned back and the happy, golden trail turned grey, bitter, and wicked. Branched arms crept over the path and grabbed at and tormented me. Pools of cold began to swing at me and I ducked and covered my face. Unheard shrieks came whipping at me as restless banshees rose from bush and rushed towards me. I shivered with fear and kept my limbs close, away from the transcendent, and decrepit, and wretched, bony fingers. I walked faster and finally broke from the woods. I lit a cigarette.

What do you think? Criticisms and praise welcome.

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