It snowed again. Broken tree limbs and frozen oil scar what would otherwise be a lovely, even inspiring landscape. What little is left of our vegetation is turning red with the cold, the way of a child's face. I suppose I am a sucker for snowscapes.
For some reason, an image flashed into my mind last night. I wondered what the snow would look like if it were covered in blood. I imagine something like a cherry snowcone, spilled onto the ground. I know it can't be quite right, but this image makes me hungry. Not for blood. No, for snow.
Now I imagine what it would be like to be a snowball. To have someone, something with total power over you, forcing you into a fetal position. Cramped, pained, forced down until you bleed a little, bowels crushed and lungs pressed down. Then, unable to unwrap yourself, you are thrown. Thrown, and then falling falling falling...
Then, splat. The pain is gone. You look to one side, and your arm is sliding down another of the creature's shirts. Your lower leg is above your head, but you are looking up at the ground. It falls away and lands, snapping in half when it lands. Crumbling. You look down, which is up, and see your hair and guts. Everything was flattened out, crushed and broken, and the creature's hand comes at you to brush you off.
A beautiful mess.
I suppose I shouldn't read Hellsing just before bed. I imagine too much.
I am hearing bells. Chimes, actually. It sounds like they are right beside me, but chimes always sound closer than they are. At least, to me. It is probably stepdad, downstairs on the keyboard. Experimenting. Yay.
I can also hear a train's horn. There are a few well-travelled train tracks around here. Not close enough to see from the house, but I can hear them. You learn to ignore them, or they will drive you crazy. I'd like to watch a train derail. No passengers, no explosions or anything. No casualties or injuries. Just a train flying off of the tracks. That would be fun.
Today is a slow one. I am trying to upload my crap before the computer gets taken away. It will be wiped clean, reprogrammed. Supposedly it's a virus. I think it's just old. Oh well. It belongs to him, so he can deal with it. I'll just upload in the meantime.
And imagine.
It's all I have left, in a way. It's all anyone has left.
I hope I'm wrong.
This will be a long day.
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Where souls disappear...
Only you exist here.
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Glee... my image seems not to work... emo
月に代わってお仕置きよ。