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Comfortable from a distance

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Summary

When you walk into nature and notice a bit of the future.

Genre:
Other
Author:
Lily
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
1
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
13+

Chapter 1

I crossed onto the pavement past the busy road, and thus a hot aching body survived the mile walk to step on a stone-worn pathway upon destination. It was an open-wide area, like the plains, but with bumps and spread-out life that didn’t disturb each other. The tired eyes explored the low and high trees, with leaves that grew on unorganized branches creating starlight shadows from the high sun onto the old stone pathway that lay with the seeds and dust of new life. As the black shoes continued to run on low gears, from afar was a team with familiar faces, but not quite knowing of but not did I consider heading in the direction of the faces due to the knowledge of knowing their importance and headed in a different direction for my preference. Soon, I laid eyes on an old decaying bench with rich dark gray paint chipped, bubbled, and spots of mossy green growing in patches and welcomed nature willingly. With much relief on the backside, I placed a heavy bag on the bench, opened it, and brought a sweet-favored snack to replenish lost energy, the energy that regained at the touch of the swift wind with cooling properties. As I sat on the comfortable wood, my ears listened to the rhymes of birds that sang with inner purpose, soft melodies cast of sleepy poems and in tune with each other’s language. Insects, bugs, and smaller creatures could not understand since they sang their rhymes, not as softly due to their hard work in harvesting pollen, nuts, and seeds but of their determination to complete a never-ending goal. From a distance, I re-noticed the team again, the red and white-wearing team created by a place of falses or perhaps misguided truth of what they truly represented but were practicing anyways together. So came green and black, but there had considered only green, entered in with the same goals and hatred. Not deep-rooted hatred since that came after years of knowledge, heart aching, and head boiling. No, it was hatred that gave a sense of superiority, an illusion of it, to complete the goal they came for, which was a victory, a victory to crown them as kings and report back to the leaders who will take the prize and hang it up for all to see. But here, the red and white had the same hatred, not of evil, but not of good sportsmanship because sportsmanship appears after the sponsorship of luck, and luck was never there in a sport of skill but was still there for the thrill. So I watched the colors from afar switch around in terms of runners and pitchers, batters and catchers, and parents and children. The parents sat together, but apart by choice of an earlier decision to focus on the innings, they would still greet each other with empty words meant to distract the other from the possibility of an injured child. A distraction that was foreign before, not clear, but much needed as they sat on plastic chairs with cheap support, support so broken that emotional parents must hold on to the thin handles tightly and bit down on chipped dusty nails. However, parents with a background in such roughness sat down, knowing previous knowledge alongside the playing child, and quietly watched them put it to use. So they cheered for the red and white children who hit the home base and hit perfectly, while the green parents cheered once the red and whites started to lose all their chances. The game ran on for hours, and the wind increased its pressure, encouraging the remaining clouds to float out of view so the creatures could seek warmth once finished. Although I sat on the wooden bench, pressing ink and gradients on smooth lined paper, not seen through vision but not truly gone in sight. So I keep writing with my right from this sight in the distance so far from being finished or in words of being diminished in the stair light shadows where now I pick yellow flowers. Fresh yellow flowers added up to four, matching four pillars of colors that stood here. I didn’t care for the red and whites because they were a team of colors. I watched for one color that matched mine in space, the same colors with dark hues and beautiful bright stars traditionally sung to babies and sailors. There was a single purple hue, a purple girl who wore the red but played individually to me as if the team never existed but were still there to bring the purple back up into the sky where it belonged. From a distance, I couldn’t see the purple hue closely, only the number imprinted on their back with a white color in bolded font. So here we were, I held the yellow flowers while inside my hue was blue, the other pillar, the girl I watched in my sight alone the purple hue, and together we joined the final of four, in space where I connected the other colors there and wished upon a dashing meteor that the purple felt a dash of success whether she got victory or not.

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