Leesa and I often used to play creative word and writing games. This one is her idea to take it in turns to write a sentence of a story, not knowing which direction the other person is going to go. It appears it never really went far at all. We planned to finish it before showing everyone but this was a while ago so I thought now was a good time cause we can always post part 2. I colour coded them to emphasise tthe way it was written but not telling who is who.
It was nightfall as I travelled through the foggy park on the seemingly deserted side of town, where the winds are chilling but the atmosphere is breath-taking.
As I looked up to the night sky I was met by the view of a million twinkling stars and the moon that seemed like as if it were cowering behind a mass of clouds.
Under the stars I felt like a giant within a crowd, though in reality I was small, lonely and overshadowed by the trees that seemed to be spying.
It was every night I walked this familiar path, on the familiar lonely part of the town, gazing up at the sky constantly, waiting for something I never knew about.
I wondered what it was that I was waiting for, how I would find it and if it was even worth finding.
At times I wonder why I'm still alive because in this world I know I have no one, and no one wants me.
No matter how much heavier each footstep is that I take however, I know just one footstep could lead me closer to something better, and thus I must take it.
I had walked over 1000 miles and 1000 nights endlessly and with every step along this unnoticed journey, I know I get closer every time.
My eyes frantically but carefully searched every blade of grass, every leaf, every object on the horizon, and every object beneath an object, in the hope of discovering a clue.
As then my mind goes into such a frenzy for a clue I wonder, 'does what I am looking for even mean anything? If it were so important it would be here with me now!'
As my craving to find my shrouded goal almost comes to a halt on this realisation, I notice for the first time that my feet begin to drag and lose their will.
With the extreme desire to search for any sort of clue almost already dissapearing within the sands of an already over extensive amount of time, I stop in the middle of the misty park and sit promptly onto the uncut and messy grass.
Breaking blades of grass one by one, almost with the intention to cut all of the grass in sight, I yield to the daunting task and stare at the last blade for which I have enlisted my grasp.
I held my hand over the blade of grass and watched it as the moonlight gave me a known reason not to break it.
With all the pain inside me, however, my mood changed and I found myself throwing the almost soulful object, for which I once gave mercy, into the wind and as far away from my aura of agony as possible.