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Randomness in its true form--not unintelligible, just inconsistent. Archives  
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1.01.2004
Creative WritingJust a thought I want to try out . . . The vine pressed into my arm. Its thick green leafiness had already cut bright red welts into my skin. I had been fighting it for the past half hour. It had me by the arms and the legs; and now it was trying to loop a strand around my neck. Sweat dripped into my eyes, for I was unable to lift my hand to wipe it away. I noticed, with yet more unease, that my feet were losing purchase on the wet ground. I was creating two parallel muddy tracks as I was dragged backwards into the awaiting mouth. "No!" I shouted out. "I'm not ending my life like this! I won't be food for some homicidal plant!" I fought and cussed and kicked; but it was for no avail. The plant fought back by raising its sharp thorns and battering them down on my head and arms. Now, instead of sweat streaming down my face, it was now blood. I was nearly in its mouth and I knew I couldn't hold out much longer. I knew this wasn't a fairy tale. There was no happy ending here, ladies and gentlemen. And then suddenly I was in its mouth. I could feel its teeth begin to rip my warm flesh into bloody chunks. I screamed as I felt my arm ripped from its socket. I saw the blood stream down what was left of my skin and body and bone. And then, before I left the world as I knew it, I swear I heard the thing laugh and shout, "My, what a tasty morsel we have here!!!" And I shrieked--and everything went dark. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Interesting columnsOdd One Out Rubber Ducky, Still Holding On Common Sense for the Masses Bok Choy Gurl There Is No Spoon These come from Backwash.com. Cool place.
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