Thursday, October 21, 2010
October 20, 2010
And so the second night begins. There is little carnage. The villagers believe this night was uninterrupted. They won't know what happened until they rise tomorrow morning. Even then some might not notice. From his perch the monster observes the village with an almost a parental eye. Making sure nothing is out of place other than what he did . He bids them sweet dreams ...tonight. No rocks will be thrown, no torches lit. The smells of their slumber wash over the battlement of his encampment. Their vulnerability pleases him. They will always be available to him and the monster finds this reassuring. The villagers find this unnerving. Theirs is a fitful sleep. Contrary to the monster cynical desires there are no sweet dreams here.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
October 19,2010
I am walking strong on the first night of another beginning. Determination and experience are my finest weapons right now. I walk prepared for the long haul. Reminding myself am a warrior, engineer, practitioner and participant.
This is an experiment to deconstruct the monster. The villagers have already gathered. Their torches light the distant dark. The monster sees them and they are insignificant like fireflies. His rampage is done for now. The rubble is theirs to remove. The work of rebuilding is mine. The monster is not intimidated or impressed. He is simply spent like the edge of night before dawn. He is not threatened because he knows the sun will set and darkness will rise again. His power lies in this repetition and the dark. To him the villagers are weak. He sees them but he is invisible to them. They wrestle in his wake as he passing among them. They feel the disruption around them; the air move. They are frightened as they witness the tossed dreams, and splintered hiding places.
This is an experiment to deconstruct the monster. The villagers have already gathered. Their torches light the distant dark. The monster sees them and they are insignificant like fireflies. His rampage is done for now. The rubble is theirs to remove. The work of rebuilding is mine. The monster is not intimidated or impressed. He is simply spent like the edge of night before dawn. He is not threatened because he knows the sun will set and darkness will rise again. His power lies in this repetition and the dark. To him the villagers are weak. He sees them but he is invisible to them. They wrestle in his wake as he passing among them. They feel the disruption around them; the air move. They are frightened as they witness the tossed dreams, and splintered hiding places.
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