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chrryblssmninjaSO MUCH STUFF TO DO. CANNOT UPDATE FOR A WHILE.
Anyways, to make up for that, here are a short story and a poem for you all to read and review. Comments would be muchly appreciated. All work belongs to me, D.B. Rodriguez.
teh poem:
El Dorado
El Dorado is a city that exists somewhere on every land
Sometimes hidden, sometimes in plain sight
Built on the foundations of mud and skeletons
Its walls are washed with blood of wars and human sacrifice
The inhabitants are merely shades of human beings
Ghosts of the kind that exist only in deeds and memories
Welcome to El Dorado, the golden city of dreams
Dreams twisted by the strings of human desire
Its fabled streets of gold try to gleam through the refuse
While the richly decorated buildings are cold, filled with dust
In the city center, there is a temple, for a golden calf
And in the center of that temple, an altar
The offerings are these: the blood of my ancestors and your ancestors
Brought by the blows of my ancestors and your ancestors
Welcome to El Dorado, golden city of dreams
The pride and shame of the human race
At times, one wishes that this dream
Did not transform into a city
built of sweat and blood
And tears and sacrifice
At what cost must the greatest schemes come?
Welcome to El Dorado, the curse of humanity
Creator, and executioner, of civilizations.
Thanks to Tina for the title for this short story:
The man grumbled as he woke up far too early, at noon. Stumbling, he found his way to the kitchen. He opened his refrigerator, filled with all the things that should be there: milk and orange juice and vegetables and meat and a few eggs on the side. He poured himself a cup of orange juice. As he drank, the man stared out the window, which had a view of the block across the street. It was a bright day shining down on the ground outside his heavily shaded porch.
A woman was jogging on the sidewalk. Though she wasn't too attractive, he was drawn to the golden tan on her face. As his eyes came upon her neck, he needed to refill his just-empty cup of orange juice. So he went to his refrigerator and took out the carton of orange juice, also taking out one red-colored packet and leaving that on the counter to thaw. Then he refilled his cup.
Coming back to his position by the window, he watched as a convertible cruised by. The two teenagers in the back had such oily faces that light reflected off them. All the people in the car were laughing. The man's eyes stalked the convertible until it drove out of sight. It led the eyes to a basketball game, taking place on a driveway at the end of the block.
There were boys, and a few girls. One boy, with sweat darkening his gray shirt, came in possession of the ball. The gray-shirt locked eyes with his teammate, whose back was to the street. The ball was passed, and the man watched it rotate and rotate and rotate... until it missed its target and landed in the street. Seeing this, the basketball players reacted negatively. People gestured towards gray-shirt's teammate, who watched the street with worry as a car pushed the ball further away. The ball was coming closer to the man's house.
He wanted to step out in the sun and help the kids. He placed his cup by the thawing packet on the counter and headed for the door. His mind was set; he was tired of his life and wanted a change. He would have just enough time to kick the ball in their direction, just enough time before-
As he opened the front door, he could see that the gray-shirt's teammate had come to pick up the ball. The man's eyes locked with those of the teammate. The two people exchanged the polite nods of strangers, and then the teammate walked away, ball in hand. The man stood in the doorway for a while, looking past his shaded porch. Then he closed the door.
He headed back to the kitchen, and closed the window blinds. Then he picked up the now fully-thawed red sealed plastic packet on the counter. It was a medical packet of some sort, he didn't know. All he knew was that there was only one more left in the back of the fridge. He would have to pay his friend tomorrow night for some more.
The man sighed and picked up the packet. Then he bared his fangs. He bit into the packet, forming a hole so he could slowly suck the blood out.
He washed down his meal with orange juice, and then tore off a paper towel to wipe his pale face and sharp fangs. Then the insomniac walked back to his bed and fell asleep. It was too early for someone like him to be awake, anyway.
See y'all later...
Anyways, to make up for that, here are a short story and a poem for you all to read and review. Comments would be muchly appreciated. All work belongs to me, D.B. Rodriguez.
teh poem:
El Dorado
El Dorado is a city that exists somewhere on every land
Sometimes hidden, sometimes in plain sight
Built on the foundations of mud and skeletons
Its walls are washed with blood of wars and human sacrifice
The inhabitants are merely shades of human beings
Ghosts of the kind that exist only in deeds and memories
Welcome to El Dorado, the golden city of dreams
Dreams twisted by the strings of human desire
Its fabled streets of gold try to gleam through the refuse
While the richly decorated buildings are cold, filled with dust
In the city center, there is a temple, for a golden calf
And in the center of that temple, an altar
The offerings are these: the blood of my ancestors and your ancestors
Brought by the blows of my ancestors and your ancestors
Welcome to El Dorado, golden city of dreams
The pride and shame of the human race
At times, one wishes that this dream
Did not transform into a city
built of sweat and blood
And tears and sacrifice
At what cost must the greatest schemes come?
Welcome to El Dorado, the curse of humanity
Creator, and executioner, of civilizations.
Thanks to Tina for the title for this short story:
The man grumbled as he woke up far too early, at noon. Stumbling, he found his way to the kitchen. He opened his refrigerator, filled with all the things that should be there: milk and orange juice and vegetables and meat and a few eggs on the side. He poured himself a cup of orange juice. As he drank, the man stared out the window, which had a view of the block across the street. It was a bright day shining down on the ground outside his heavily shaded porch.
A woman was jogging on the sidewalk. Though she wasn't too attractive, he was drawn to the golden tan on her face. As his eyes came upon her neck, he needed to refill his just-empty cup of orange juice. So he went to his refrigerator and took out the carton of orange juice, also taking out one red-colored packet and leaving that on the counter to thaw. Then he refilled his cup.
Coming back to his position by the window, he watched as a convertible cruised by. The two teenagers in the back had such oily faces that light reflected off them. All the people in the car were laughing. The man's eyes stalked the convertible until it drove out of sight. It led the eyes to a basketball game, taking place on a driveway at the end of the block.
There were boys, and a few girls. One boy, with sweat darkening his gray shirt, came in possession of the ball. The gray-shirt locked eyes with his teammate, whose back was to the street. The ball was passed, and the man watched it rotate and rotate and rotate... until it missed its target and landed in the street. Seeing this, the basketball players reacted negatively. People gestured towards gray-shirt's teammate, who watched the street with worry as a car pushed the ball further away. The ball was coming closer to the man's house.
He wanted to step out in the sun and help the kids. He placed his cup by the thawing packet on the counter and headed for the door. His mind was set; he was tired of his life and wanted a change. He would have just enough time to kick the ball in their direction, just enough time before-
As he opened the front door, he could see that the gray-shirt's teammate had come to pick up the ball. The man's eyes locked with those of the teammate. The two people exchanged the polite nods of strangers, and then the teammate walked away, ball in hand. The man stood in the doorway for a while, looking past his shaded porch. Then he closed the door.
He headed back to the kitchen, and closed the window blinds. Then he picked up the now fully-thawed red sealed plastic packet on the counter. It was a medical packet of some sort, he didn't know. All he knew was that there was only one more left in the back of the fridge. He would have to pay his friend tomorrow night for some more.
The man sighed and picked up the packet. Then he bared his fangs. He bit into the packet, forming a hole so he could slowly suck the blood out.
He washed down his meal with orange juice, and then tore off a paper towel to wipe his pale face and sharp fangs. Then the insomniac walked back to his bed and fell asleep. It was too early for someone like him to be awake, anyway.
See y'all later...
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no subject
2005-05-22 05:29 (UTC)Annyways. Hahaha. That is all.
(no subject)
by