Monday, January 31, 2011
[originally wrote this way back in july 2009, around 3am]
that could explain the weirdness of it. then again, i'm just generally weird.
i have no idea why it's typed out all in caps. i really don't care. (considering i usually tend to type in all lowercase).
yeah. it started out with me testing correct typography although i have no idea what that means.
HE WALKED TOWARDS THE CLEARING, UNCERTAIN OF WHAT HE WOULD FIND, FEAR AND CURIOSITY BATTLING FOR CONTROL OF HIS EMOTIONS—HE WANTED TO TURN AND RUN, DESPERATELY, TO JUST LEAVE THIS PLACE, TO FORGET THAT IT EVER EXISTED; HE WANTED TO MOVE FORWARD, TOWARDS THE DARK CANVAS OF SPACE SPREAD OUT BETWEEN THE CLUSTERS OF TREES BEFORE HIM. IT SEEMED TO CALL OUT TO HIM, TO URGE HIM FORWARD. THIS NAGGING SENSATION TO DISCOVER WON OUT THE FEAR AS A VOICE RANG OUT IN HIS HEAD, SEEMING TO SURROUND HIM ENTIRELY: "GO AHEAD IT'S OKAY THERE'S NOTHING WRONG NOTHING TO FEAR IT'S OKAY IT WILL BE FINE JUST GO AHEAD AND MOVE.”
AND HE DID. HE WAS MOVING EVEN BEFORE THE VOICE ENDED, STOPPED SPEAKING TO HIM IN THAT DRILLING TONE, ALMOST NASALLY, YET QUIET AND GENTLE. HE SUPPOSED IT WAS MEANT TO SOUND LIKE THAT, TO STEAL HIS FOCUS EASIER . THE VOICE SOUNDED CALM, GENTLE, FEARLESS, SO WHY COULDN'T HE BE LIKE THAT TOO? MOVE FORWARD, LIKE THE VOICES TOLD HIM TO, AND WHY NOT? IT WAS OKAY, IT WOULD BE FINE. IF HE TURNED AND HEADED BACK OUT OF THE FOREST NOW HE WAS A COWARD, AND AFRAID OF WHAT? NOTHING. BECAUSE HE HADN'T MOVED FORWARD; HE HADN'T FOUND ANYTHING TO BE SCARED OF AT ALL.
MOVE FORWARD. IT'S OKAY. IT'S SAFE.
QUIET. GENTLE. FEARLESS. HE COULD BE FEARLESS. HE LET HIS LEFT FOOT FALL AHEAD OF HIS RIGHT, THEN HIS RIGHT AHEAD OF HIS LEFT, CREATING AN EASY GAIT. HE WALKED WITH A SLIGHT LIMP IN HIS LEFT LEG—A CHILDHOOD ACCIDENT HE COULDN'T QUITE REMEMBER ALL THE DETAILS OF. HE REMEMBERED HIS FATHER, BUT NOT HIS MOTHER; WHITE WALLS; A LOT OF BEEPING SOUNDS. THAT WAS ALL.
IT WAS SILENT OUT HERE, IN THE WOODS. THE VOICE CARRIED HIM ONWARDS TOWARDS THE DARK OPENING AND HE NEVER ONCE WONDERED WHY THE FOREST WAS ABSENT OF SOUNDS THAT SHOULD BE THERE: BIRDS CALLING OUT, CHIRPING, SWOOPING HIGH ABOVE IN THE WINDLESS SKY; SQUIRRELS ON THE GROUND DIGGING FOR LONG AGO BURIED NUTS, OR HIGH UP IN THE TREES CHATTERING AS THEY CLIMBED. HE PAID NO ATTENTION TO THIS ODDNESS, TO THIS STRANGE SILENCE, BECAUSE ALL HE NEEDED TO BE HEARING WAS THAT ONE VOICE, THAT ONE VOICE THAT PUSHED HIM FURTHER TOWARDS THE OPENING UNTIL HE WAS STANDING JUST IN FRONT OF IT, CURIOUS, YES, BUT WITH THE FEAR SLOWLY COMING BACK. THE VOICE HAD GONE. IT WAS ALL UP TO HIM NOW. IT WAS HIS CHOICE NOW, AND HE HAD TO DECIDE WHAT TO DO.
HE GLANCED BEHIND HIM ONCE, A QUICK TURN OF THE HEAD TO GAZE OVER HIS SHOULDER. HE SAW NOTHING BUT THE SPARSE, DIRT CLEARING HE'D CROSSED TO GET HERE, THE TREES AND BUSHES CLUSTERED AT THE FAR EDGE, CREATING A LARGE MASS OF GREEN AND BROWN. THAT DIDN'T MATTER. HE TURNED HIS ATTENTION BACK TO THE OPENING SET BEFORE HIM, PUSHED THE FEAR AS FAR DOWN AS HE COULD, TRYING TO BANISH IT BUT ONLY CAUSING IT TO SLIGHTLY FADE AWAY; HE CLOSED HIS EYES, SHUT THEM SO TIGHT THAT HE SUDDENLY FELT DIZZY, SAW SWARMS OF FUZZY BLACK SPOTS. HE QUICKLY OPENED HIS EYES, BLINKING AWAY THE SPOTS, THE DIZZINESS. HE HEARD A FAINT WHISPER—MOVE FORWARD—BUT OF COURSE THAT WAS ONLY HIS IMAGINATION. IT DIDN'T MATTER. HE STEPPED FORWARD, BREAKING THROUGH THE INVISIBLE BARRIER, WAS SUDDENLY ENCOMPASSED IN DARKNESS. HE MOVED FORWARD, NOT ONCE GLANCING BACK, NOT NOTICING THAT A RECTANGLE OF BLACK STOOD WHERE LIGHT SHOULD BE SHINING THROUGH. A CAVE, HE'D THOUGHT. THAT WAS ALL IT WAS. HE MOVED FORWARD, FEAR FORGOTTEN COMPLETELY, WITH ONLY A HIGH AMOUNT OF CURIOSITY LEFT IN ITS PLACE. THE VOICE NEVER RETURNED. HE NEVER NOTICED THIS. HE COULD JUST BARELY REMEMBER IT EVER BEING THERE. A SMALL FIGMENT OF THE IMAGINATION, HE WOULD SAY, IF ANYBODY WERE TO EVER QUESTION THE SMALL TRACES OF MEMORY HE DID HAVE REGARDING THE VOICE. THERE WAS NOBODY BUT HIMSELF HERE, HOWEVER, SO THE VOICE WOULD LIKELY BE FORGOTTEN COMPLETELY. HE HAD MOVED FORWARD, THOUGH, AND THAT REALLY WAS ALL THAT MATTERED TO HIM.
that could explain the weirdness of it. then again, i'm just generally weird.
i have no idea why it's typed out all in caps. i really don't care. (considering i usually tend to type in all lowercase).
yeah. it started out with me testing correct typography although i have no idea what that means.
HE WALKED TOWARDS THE CLEARING, UNCERTAIN OF WHAT HE WOULD FIND, FEAR AND CURIOSITY BATTLING FOR CONTROL OF HIS EMOTIONS—HE WANTED TO TURN AND RUN, DESPERATELY, TO JUST LEAVE THIS PLACE, TO FORGET THAT IT EVER EXISTED; HE WANTED TO MOVE FORWARD, TOWARDS THE DARK CANVAS OF SPACE SPREAD OUT BETWEEN THE CLUSTERS OF TREES BEFORE HIM. IT SEEMED TO CALL OUT TO HIM, TO URGE HIM FORWARD. THIS NAGGING SENSATION TO DISCOVER WON OUT THE FEAR AS A VOICE RANG OUT IN HIS HEAD, SEEMING TO SURROUND HIM ENTIRELY: "GO AHEAD IT'S OKAY THERE'S NOTHING WRONG NOTHING TO FEAR IT'S OKAY IT WILL BE FINE JUST GO AHEAD AND MOVE.”
AND HE DID. HE WAS MOVING EVEN BEFORE THE VOICE ENDED, STOPPED SPEAKING TO HIM IN THAT DRILLING TONE, ALMOST NASALLY, YET QUIET AND GENTLE. HE SUPPOSED IT WAS MEANT TO SOUND LIKE THAT, TO STEAL HIS FOCUS EASIER . THE VOICE SOUNDED CALM, GENTLE, FEARLESS, SO WHY COULDN'T HE BE LIKE THAT TOO? MOVE FORWARD, LIKE THE VOICES TOLD HIM TO, AND WHY NOT? IT WAS OKAY, IT WOULD BE FINE. IF HE TURNED AND HEADED BACK OUT OF THE FOREST NOW HE WAS A COWARD, AND AFRAID OF WHAT? NOTHING. BECAUSE HE HADN'T MOVED FORWARD; HE HADN'T FOUND ANYTHING TO BE SCARED OF AT ALL.
MOVE FORWARD. IT'S OKAY. IT'S SAFE.
QUIET. GENTLE. FEARLESS. HE COULD BE FEARLESS. HE LET HIS LEFT FOOT FALL AHEAD OF HIS RIGHT, THEN HIS RIGHT AHEAD OF HIS LEFT, CREATING AN EASY GAIT. HE WALKED WITH A SLIGHT LIMP IN HIS LEFT LEG—A CHILDHOOD ACCIDENT HE COULDN'T QUITE REMEMBER ALL THE DETAILS OF. HE REMEMBERED HIS FATHER, BUT NOT HIS MOTHER; WHITE WALLS; A LOT OF BEEPING SOUNDS. THAT WAS ALL.
IT WAS SILENT OUT HERE, IN THE WOODS. THE VOICE CARRIED HIM ONWARDS TOWARDS THE DARK OPENING AND HE NEVER ONCE WONDERED WHY THE FOREST WAS ABSENT OF SOUNDS THAT SHOULD BE THERE: BIRDS CALLING OUT, CHIRPING, SWOOPING HIGH ABOVE IN THE WINDLESS SKY; SQUIRRELS ON THE GROUND DIGGING FOR LONG AGO BURIED NUTS, OR HIGH UP IN THE TREES CHATTERING AS THEY CLIMBED. HE PAID NO ATTENTION TO THIS ODDNESS, TO THIS STRANGE SILENCE, BECAUSE ALL HE NEEDED TO BE HEARING WAS THAT ONE VOICE, THAT ONE VOICE THAT PUSHED HIM FURTHER TOWARDS THE OPENING UNTIL HE WAS STANDING JUST IN FRONT OF IT, CURIOUS, YES, BUT WITH THE FEAR SLOWLY COMING BACK. THE VOICE HAD GONE. IT WAS ALL UP TO HIM NOW. IT WAS HIS CHOICE NOW, AND HE HAD TO DECIDE WHAT TO DO.
HE GLANCED BEHIND HIM ONCE, A QUICK TURN OF THE HEAD TO GAZE OVER HIS SHOULDER. HE SAW NOTHING BUT THE SPARSE, DIRT CLEARING HE'D CROSSED TO GET HERE, THE TREES AND BUSHES CLUSTERED AT THE FAR EDGE, CREATING A LARGE MASS OF GREEN AND BROWN. THAT DIDN'T MATTER. HE TURNED HIS ATTENTION BACK TO THE OPENING SET BEFORE HIM, PUSHED THE FEAR AS FAR DOWN AS HE COULD, TRYING TO BANISH IT BUT ONLY CAUSING IT TO SLIGHTLY FADE AWAY; HE CLOSED HIS EYES, SHUT THEM SO TIGHT THAT HE SUDDENLY FELT DIZZY, SAW SWARMS OF FUZZY BLACK SPOTS. HE QUICKLY OPENED HIS EYES, BLINKING AWAY THE SPOTS, THE DIZZINESS. HE HEARD A FAINT WHISPER—MOVE FORWARD—BUT OF COURSE THAT WAS ONLY HIS IMAGINATION. IT DIDN'T MATTER. HE STEPPED FORWARD, BREAKING THROUGH THE INVISIBLE BARRIER, WAS SUDDENLY ENCOMPASSED IN DARKNESS. HE MOVED FORWARD, NOT ONCE GLANCING BACK, NOT NOTICING THAT A RECTANGLE OF BLACK STOOD WHERE LIGHT SHOULD BE SHINING THROUGH. A CAVE, HE'D THOUGHT. THAT WAS ALL IT WAS. HE MOVED FORWARD, FEAR FORGOTTEN COMPLETELY, WITH ONLY A HIGH AMOUNT OF CURIOSITY LEFT IN ITS PLACE. THE VOICE NEVER RETURNED. HE NEVER NOTICED THIS. HE COULD JUST BARELY REMEMBER IT EVER BEING THERE. A SMALL FIGMENT OF THE IMAGINATION, HE WOULD SAY, IF ANYBODY WERE TO EVER QUESTION THE SMALL TRACES OF MEMORY HE DID HAVE REGARDING THE VOICE. THERE WAS NOBODY BUT HIMSELF HERE, HOWEVER, SO THE VOICE WOULD LIKELY BE FORGOTTEN COMPLETELY. HE HAD MOVED FORWARD, THOUGH, AND THAT REALLY WAS ALL THAT MATTERED TO HIM.
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