kaolin fire presents :: writing :: fiction

"TossTheSalt.0"

words

http://www.rustybarnes.com/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?t=409

Toss the salt, just keep tossing the salt over the shoulder, don't mind the slugs in front of you. Luck you need, luck you need like a blind mind in the valley of fear but instead your watch is broken and you can't tell if it's dawn or dusk; where did the night go, or the day, then? Here, sitting in the apple tree, you can't remember anything past swinging your legs, eyes shut, eyes open, eyes shut again, and the moonlight/sunlight drifting through the delicate leaves, answering a breeze you can't even feel on your dry, dry skin. The slugs slick their slime across the grass, they squick their slick slime and it glistens in your mind and sticks, sticks to your skin, in your mind, and they're dragging you down. They're dragging you down into the mess of the weeping, the fearing, the earthly, the living. They're dragging you down into the dead. Luck, luck you need, luck to forget, forgetting the luck that landed you here, the luck of the slime and the filth, traipsing across the field of blades and the monuments of stone where you're trying to rise, rise above. Toss the salt, toss the salt, just keep tossing the salt over the shoulder, and maybe, just maybe, things will be right; just keep tossing the salt, and things will be right again.