Butter SunlightThe young girl gazed across the field of corn, scanning for any sign of someone around. The vast expanse of land showed no one, but she knew he had been following her for a good 15 minutes. While she had thought nothing of it at first, it was now getting unbearable. Her original plan was to take the main road back to her house, but the road was blocked due to a car crash, forcing her to take the long way home through the field and making the slow pursuit last even longer.Her dress swayed as a rush of wind flew by, making her arms cold and she folded then over her chest. It was a nice dress, although not too fancy. It was a white, sleeveless cotton dress that went down just past her knees and was decorated with light blue stitching and blue ribbon at the sleeves and neckline. She matched it with another piece of blue ribbon that tied back her long dark hair and white socks along with the polished black shoes she rarely wore not because she didnt like them, but she didnt dar
Roland Savage Chapter 7When I woke up, my head was filled with music. Literally filled, I could hear nothing else. The beats shook every fibre of my body and a rising and falling tune floated around me and carried me every step I took. I can only describe how I felt and not what it sounded like because Ive never heard anything like it since, and the memory is dusty.Anyway, while I was being intoxicated with audio I could still vaguely see what was around me. It was extraordinarily dark except for spasms of colour crashing against surfaces all around. I was in a crowd of thousands, everyone completely out of it, staring at nothing with their mouths hanging open in involuntary smiles as they moved in rythmatic dance completely and utterly perfectly in time with each other, like one entity moving along the floor, which was a polished surface of dark, hard and cold material. They span and weaved around me and as they flowed, lights from indiscernible points above us shone down and penetrated he air, causi
Roland Savage Chapter 6.5He woke up with his bottom half surgically torn open. There was a pipe protruding from where his spine should have been. His large, sweaty arms were solid and immovable, and handlebars stuck out from the underside of each forearm. Wires fed in and out of orifices all down his torso and the skin folded over them in wet wrinkles. There was blood everywhere.Wh...wha... he tried to say. There was something sharp in his throat which pressed against his voice box.Relax. Youll be asleep again before you know it. The body can only take so much before it shuts down into an unconscious state.The voice came from nowhere and everywhere and echoed in and out of his skull, which throbbed on the left hand side.Wh...The owner of the voice came into view from above. It was a man, extraordinarily tall and skinny, possibly only skin and bones with the bare tissue to hold it all together. Large cheekbones accentuated deep dark eyes that sunk into the face. Hi
Roland Savage Chapter 6The waiter had been left alone in the tank. This was not unfamiliar territory to him. Years spent tending the Mirror Restaurant alone with only the passing sausage monster to talk to (even then they werent especially good conversationalists) equipped him with the necessary skills to be able to stand long periods of time doing absolutely nothing whatsoever. For istance, he was now standing on the tip of his head, arms and legs crossed in deep song. His voice made no sound, but in his head he was continuing a great epic opera using up to one hundred and eighty four different instruments at one time. In time, it was of good chance it would be put down on paper, but he didnt have the patience right then.Music was a gift no Seeing-Cucumber-Glass could teach you. He had learnt the hard way.He barely felt the first explosion. A slight tremor in the floors and nothing more. The tank was nothing if not impenetrable. He was right in the middle of a complex violin-bongo-marraca-elec
A Blanket of ColdThe snow lies like a blanket upon the earth, covering every surface. Blades of grass cut through to breath, but the cold air sucks the life from above them. The cold is a hunter, absent at first, invisible to the smiles and laughter of life, but soon it wears upon the happiness until pain grips the fingers of joy, grasping with all its might until claws sink into the soft tender skin. Joy can only sit in the snow, crushing it to nothing beneath its weightless frame. Tears drop from closed eyes and wash away the cold, sinking into the whiteness and making caverns in the ice. The joy cries with the pain until all the cold has gone, vanished into nothing, and nothing takes its place. The life rejoices at its freedom, but joy remains alone, crying against its pain and solitude as the world turns around it in indifferent oblivion.