A creature, 4 feet tall and suited was sitting in the middle of a large lightning storm, holding a pink umbrella. The dark swirling clouds covered the crescent moon of the sky. The creature was covered in mud, it's long feet, almost 2/3rds of a yard, within a sinking pit of wet ground. The creature sighs and fruitlessly attempts to leave the pit. The water strikes it's head with a light velocity, from once to twice to five times to ten times to several dozens to hundreds. The feel of the humidity felt good on it's skin. The smell, something so hard to describe, had clear it's sinuses. The umbrella I had was covered in water. The creature had continued to spin the umbrella with one of it's hands, spraying the water behind it.
"Tony!", sign language-d his father, Anthony. Unfortunately without the ability to see, sign language did nothing for them. Anthony had looked for his eight year old son for several hours, trying to find a glimpse of his suit or his grey head. Nothing could be found.
Tony just stayed in the mud, clutching his deceased mother and a toy being held up by his feet. The water was cool but not uncomfortable. The air had a sense of presence of joy and relaxation more than anything. Tony enjoyed it.
Finally, after taking everything in and completely his sage mode, he lifts the toy out of the mud. There, in his hand, was a broken etch-a-sketch. He head it up the skies to both sheild himself from the rain and clear the mud.
After an hour of holding it up, Tony was found by his father. The father had to lift up Tony's full 600 pounds by himself and carry him back to their home.
Tony enjoyed himself in the bliss of the eye of the storm
No comments:
Post a Comment