RUSTLINGS of the WIND: The Grey

The Grey
by Trisha Hanudel

Rise, out of ash and cinder....... the flames have long burned away........ the grey has taken over... seeped into my soul..... nothing to hope, nothing to dream......... i look out from behind hazy, burntout eyes.... but i don't believe anything i've seen.......... streets grey with ash and rain..... faint flourescent lights cut into the day..................... they're grey too........... skies of a sickly blue-grey darken..... with my eyes, burning, intense, fevered....... black-silhouetted kids in the streets....... running-the story of thier lives...... spray cans and pellet guns drop..... shatter smooth pools of silver........... a splash, a silence, footsteps fade.......................

the grey will come for them soon.................... i turn back to my skies......... the smooth silent nothingess-the grey...... is fading into an angry, violent purple-black..... swirling, crashing, raging....... all before my darkening eyes.......... the violent skies build up inside my soul... they fill the grey void............ i lash out with it, against it.......... the angry streets entangle me...... oily black rain burns like acid on my face....... snakes rise up out of nowhere........ they strangle my limbs......... those kids rush towards me in a fit of rage....... i've realized thier black, endless violence....... i flail against the snakes and monsters......

the kids have turned into....................

.......before my eyes

i kick i scream i punch i tear i claw i rip i bleed i gouge i stab i thrash i rage i flail i smash i hit i shreik i lash i cry i slam i kill i kill i kill i kill i kill......................... i breathe.. sweating, gasping, four bodies lie..... twisted, around my feet..... lying in their black, evil pools of death................... my jagged breath, my heaving chest........... i stagger to a dark, black place......... knees drawn up head down........... i wait......... the black has drained from my soul.................... vanished ...... freezing, sweating, trembling, i wait......... the grey will come soon....... the calm, still nothingness of the grey...................

there is nothing worse than watching the grey arrive

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