Monday, February 27, 2012
Timed Writing: 2/26/2012
Time: 10 minutes
Source Photo: Embryo
I warned her. I told her, over and over again, not to follow me into the woods. I explained how I would not be able to protect her there -- how my indulgence would not be extended to her and how she would be treated should she pass the barrier of stones. She did not listen. Now she does not hear. Or speak. Or breathe. She may yet feel a little -- I don't know. Even that cannot last for long, if it lasts at all.
If there had been anyone watching, they would have seen a tree fall in the forest. They would have heard a cracking and a rush of wind and a scream, cut instantly short and muffled by the crashing of branches, twigs, roots, gravel, rocks. They would have lost sight of the golden curls and the pale blue dress in the storm of yellow leaves and the cloud of brown dust.
There was nobody watching though, so perhaps it didn't happen like that at all. Perhaps it was silent. Perhaps there was no transitional series of states during which the tree and the root clump assumed attitudes intermediate between those of its past and those of its present. Perhaps it was instantaneous -- a synchronized positional change of all of the particles composing the tree and the the woman, such that she didn't die in pain and terror. Like an electron jumping to the next quantal energy level, with no in-between state, she was alive and then she was dead. No tree falling, no shattering of the skull, no crushing of the rib cage -- just horizontal tree, head in pieces, thorax flat.
(about my timed writing exercises)
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