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OfflineJutboy
I guess I'm cool

Registered: 05/12/05
Posts: 136
Last seen: 9 years, 7 months
Short Story (I wrote 3 or 4 years ago and just today found)
    #4426315 - 07/20/05 02:18 AM (11 years, 4 months ago)

Along a path in a small park, far in the back where the trail is long over grown and visitors hardly pay mind are three peices of stone. Now in any ordinary situation these three rocks would be insignificate, except that, because of their positioning they formed a simple, slightly uncomfortable, bench. Now the fact that these same objects now are an instrument to serve some human need does not inherently increase their significe. Especially when one takes a step back and looks at the universal picture. Regardless, on a slightly windy fall day a boy was sitting on that bench. Not only was he sitting on it but he was devoting a large amount of his mental energies towards it. On any other given day you would not find this child in the back of a park, sitting still and definitely not possessing the power of control over his thoughts that he has today. You see when kids are starting the process of realising reality (termed "adolescence") they tend to take drugs.

The stone bench was shaped percisely like stonehedge excepted stubbier. It probably hadn't been sat on in over 5 years, maybe 10. It was faded, slightly in the irregular edges through out it, slightly in colour. Moss had worked its way around sixty percent of it and provided a bit of a cushin. Unfortunetly is was a bit damp though. The sun ws at about a 45 degree angle, it being around 4 or 5 o'clock in the day, causing a shadow duplicate of the boy/bench on the roots of a near by tree. All of this was carefully observed by the day tripper.

As is with much in this world, it was not so much the actually bench that cativated him so. It was the essence or implications of what he experienced sensually that caused his (a word that will soon become obsolete) self-image to radically change. He understood that he was actually part of everything "out there". No longer could the illusion be maintained that he was something disconnect, simply housed with in a vehical. What he was, life, what everyone was, came forth from the universe, the moss, the stone and thus was part of him. His conciousness was nothing more than the universe, or in search for less scientifically baised term, all that is and ever will be experiencing itself.

Perhaps this boy will crash hard, perhaps he will forget. Perhaps this understanding can be obtained without drugs. Regardless, on his walk home, after the drugs wore off, after his soul had been streched as far as it could go. Finally all was calm. For what other reaction could occur when one dived back down to where one originated from.


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Offlineduster
psychadelicgardener
Male User Gallery

Registered: 07/20/04
Posts: 1,186
Loc: ARIZONA,TRANSLVANIAA,ETC....
Last seen: 6 days, 9 hours
Re: Short Story (I wrote 3 or 4 years ago and just today found) [Re: Jutboy]
    #4427139 - 07/20/05 06:44 AM (11 years, 4 months ago)

good story, surprised you didn't get more comments!

dont pay attention everyone here sucks and bothers me for my nudez


--------------------
"The eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility."


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InvisibleAbstractHarmonix
Love is like a train...
Female

Registered: 07/09/04
Posts: 3,509
Loc: The Sea
Re: Short Story (I wrote 3 or 4 years ago and just today found) [Re: duster]
    #4427388 - 07/20/05 10:31 AM (11 years, 4 months ago)

Awesome!

thanks for that story. as i am sure many can relate to these prophecies...

whats great is that in reality, we do not need drugs to percieve this. it is easier when the psychedelics open that door, and then the heights can be reached through mediatation and projections.

some people are just to rapped up in the now to get that there is more to life than ------.

great story!


--------------------
A plethora of music aspirations control my temptations of future revelations beyond "now". The percussion, and the heart beat of my love and devotion. The rhythm goes beyond, prying into the third eye, releasing the creativity held so far inside. The melodicies, through the out of tune pianos and broken classical guitars...there lies a beauty. A beauty as prevelent as the fire inside. To release these energies is pure ecstacy, to deveop these gifts is sacred. The vocality, so pure as can be, shying away from herself, lies within me. For the underlying serenitity, this is what I live for. I plea for harmony, and nothing more. Music equals love. Creation of love leads to the procreativity of the World, and it's spirals and puddles prevailing.


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