The Clash [Oasis and Myrick]
Mar 2, 2015 17:34:30 GMT -5
Post by Will on Mar 2, 2015 17:34:30 GMT -5
MYRICK JOHANSSON
As I walk through the streets, I look around. It's dark. It's the kind of dark that has just barely created a veil from the sunlight, slowly being woven thicker and thicker from east to west. You'd think God was trying to wrap us in a nice warm blanket, but the night doesn't belong to God. It belongs to the Devil. And he is wrapping us up in a blanket, but not because it's warm. It's to shield us from the warmth, to suffocate us and blind us from the horrors that lurk slowly closer and closer.
I hate night.
I begin to quicken my pace to make it back home before the sun sets. Well, a home is hardly the word for such a thing. It's more along the lines of a shack, very petite and splintery, seeming as if at just one single touch the whole thing will crumble in on itself. And nobody would ever suspect that someone lives inside of it. Or at least sleeps within its walls. It helps to shield from wind and precipitation, but that's all it's good for, really. And it's not even too great at that.
At any rate, Satan's quilt is getting thicker and I'm no closer to home. I quicken my pace even more, now I'm nearly jogging. I suspect that this might feel nice if night weren't about to fall and it was warmer out. But no, the cold slices at me and stings me with each centimeter my body moves, seeming to try to force me to stay still. Force me to stand there while it freezes me. But I won't let that happen.
I look back, only for a quick second when suddenly I've collided with someone. Limbs and screams fly every which way, tangling themselves together until all is still once again. I look at the person I've ran into. It's a girl. I quickly try to untangle myself from her.
I hate night.
I begin to quicken my pace to make it back home before the sun sets. Well, a home is hardly the word for such a thing. It's more along the lines of a shack, very petite and splintery, seeming as if at just one single touch the whole thing will crumble in on itself. And nobody would ever suspect that someone lives inside of it. Or at least sleeps within its walls. It helps to shield from wind and precipitation, but that's all it's good for, really. And it's not even too great at that.
At any rate, Satan's quilt is getting thicker and I'm no closer to home. I quicken my pace even more, now I'm nearly jogging. I suspect that this might feel nice if night weren't about to fall and it was warmer out. But no, the cold slices at me and stings me with each centimeter my body moves, seeming to try to force me to stay still. Force me to stand there while it freezes me. But I won't let that happen.
I look back, only for a quick second when suddenly I've collided with someone. Limbs and screams fly every which way, tangling themselves together until all is still once again. I look at the person I've ran into. It's a girl. I quickly try to untangle myself from her.
table by will
