Wednesday, August 17, 2011

A Legend Yet Written Of...(part 1)

Her heart couldn't have been held by a hand that trembled more. So it slipped through his finger tips and faster than he could recollect it, the shattered pieces were strewn across the floor. How did this happen? The metaphor of Clark's reality seemed to play vividly in his mind over and over again ending on the wreckage before beginning again. Why was he so stuck on the cause of that slip up rather than moving forward and picking up of the pieces? Clark could visualize her face, like a delicate vase careening to the stone floor, as she said the words that would ultimately shatter the future he had once hoped to have with her into just a dream. Why did his mind continue to question the cause when the mess still left a path un-tread-able? Why should the answer to any of these questions matter now? Clark never bothered answering them back then? Now, 4 years later, in the light of a new relationship, Clark simply hopes to never see the mess of that dingy hallway memory again.
Clark hardly ever thinks of that past anymore, but sometimes he wonders if that will ever come back to bite him. Like there might be something he is forgetting that he really should remember. After a thought like this it is his usual practice to mull over the missing memory, but since nothing ever comes to mind, Clark goes on with his day, keeping his mind on his duties, like for instance, the bandit he is wrestling to keep from plunging a dagger into his chest...

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