The hands that demolish the beauty of nature to burn it and sell it ,belong to me. But who are you to blame someone like me? There's nothing wrong with cutting down a twig or two. Right?
This may be a stupid question but I would love to hear peoples views on it, I live in the country called Nervan it's to the north of the continent Farshan. It's usually pretty chilly up here however it's a comforting kind of cold. My antiquate house is surrounded by ginormous sequoia trees that cascaded threw the forest behind the basin lagoon that is a home for it's own 'wicked' ecosystem.
My job as the grand Feller of the nation is too chop the forest down and ship the wood overseas to other countries. I get quite a high pay for it so I have no complaints , however the exception being the wild life. The are already endangered and I am slowly making it worse, the creatures living in my forest are ones of a kind which makes it an awful job sometimes , acknowledging the fact im the one taking there home away makes this job so much harder. I live more than 25 miles from any civilization I'm quite alone out here, so I have no option but to carry on , I know bad excuse but I just have to ... Besides have you ever tried Wolven meat? it has an ecstatic taste that's a mix of both sweat and sour that fills your taste buds after the very first bite. Some may even call it 'enchanting'. Wolven are a hybrid between wolves and deer, its a fascinating creature. Such a beautiful thing
Oh I forgot to introduce myself, so sorry about that. My names Blaze or at least that's what everyone came about to call me.
...
Harsh cortex of the tree quickly came crashing down onto the damp surrounding, blowing a gust of dry wind clouds. Wiping away a bead of sweat off his forehead he slowly picked up the bristly plank and carried it over his worn out shoulder. The weight of it made him appear more sluggish . His feet dragged behind him making him unable to make fast progress. It took him around 20 minutes to carry it from point A to point B. Then he walked back to point A and the process continued till around 20 trees were removed.
As he finished with the last tree he realized he was no longer alone.
...
The ones busy and restless forest became soundless. The eyes they are everywhere, circling. They are hunting and I'm there pray. However frightening it may seem it most likely only some wild hairs or deer's perhaps even owls as its a weekly occurrence. It doesn't really matter anyway, I don't mind some company once in a while. Sheepishly I walked down the path like a bride to an arranged marriage with someone who I have never met. I simply despised the feeling, the path was narrow and outlined with shiny limestone. It had it's ups and downs (especially when rain crashed down on it) but it did it's job in leading me through the forest and back to my house so I couldn't possibly stay mad at it.
It took approximately half an hour for me to get back home as I was still quite exhausted from my work today , so it just added up to my fatigue I suppose. I opened the silver gate ;which was laced with cobwebs and rust, it separated the forest ...The creatures from my house. I closed the gate slowly my exhaustion getting the better of me as I wasn't able to fully lock this darn thing, but it was quite fine, the worst that can happen is a new meal will appear tomorrow morning. I walk into my house and lock the front door behind me.
...
The house was far from ancient, quite a prehistoric built as parts were braking ,on a verge of falling apart in certain areas, it was holding on for it's 'life'. Vines wrapped around the exterior of the house as if consuming it. A wild garden was also present but quite minuscule compared to the big build of the manner. The interior walls were painted crimson however the paint had cracks on cracks, it's edges peeling and turning. Mold also played a very huge role in the décor as most walls were decorated with it , which was most likely caused by the dampness of its surroundings. Rigid paintings hung across the walls of the thin and peculiar corridors. These atrocities had different things painted on them such as a youthful lady holding a rainbow umbrella , she had short pitch black hair , ice eyes that could pierce anyone with just a glance, her skin of that of a porcelain doll lastly she wore a long vermilion dress that perfectly outlined her petite form. Another had a much younger boy present on it , this young fella had short fluffy blond hair that outlined his face perfectly making it appear much more innocent, his little cheeks were covered with wild freckles , he wore a short button up shirt that looked a bit too small for the boy but he seemed to not mind as much. Another painting that was opposite the young boy was of an old folk , his chalky hair appeared to levitate around his wrinkled face which made him appear more angelic. Heavenly . These are few of many others , some much more disturbing . The paintings had a this golden frame around them as if to make it seem as if they were much more valuable then they really are.
Carefully stepping over the piles of my filth I walked into my Livingroom , it by itself isn't much , rather its the least flattering thing about this whole house if I can say so myself . Dirty piles of dishes all over the café table, it makes it seem like I live in a barn .... well perhaps in a sense i do ? well whatever forget I said anything . Measly walking through the room and sitting down on the moist couch I let out a deep sigh, it made me feel helpless? not sure if that may be the right word to describe how im currently feeling but . . . I just cant.
...
The room was icy but there appeared no reason for it as the windows were jammed shut, the doors locked tight and the fireplace lit by a small amber of hope.
Blaze, an ironic name for someone with such a chilly life. He felt no ounce of comfort by the warmth of a blaze rather, he prefered the chill of the outside wind as it went past him.
Sludged on that old couch his eyes drooped as fatigue began to take it's towl.
Sleep like a soundless sheep as there is a bright new day tomorrow.
Sleep as its a means to escape the reality of your life.
Sleep your days away, sleep your nights away.
Sleep for eternity.
His arms drooped to his sides as he became motionless, except for the beating of his heart and the occasional twitching of his crooked fingers.
Tik tok Tik tok.
The run down grandfather clock rang quarter to 9. The land outside was dark before but now an inky hue, no shine from the moon could possibly break through the taught, thick murky clouds. Nothing could be seen outside the window except for small red and white dots in the distance that day by day appeared to creep closer and closer to the manner.
But it's nothing to fear. Right?
YOU ARE READING
The Grim Reapers Demise (1)
ActionBook no. 1. A story written by a young male who's life only got worse through time, the pain and suffering he had to endure throughout the years with no hope present. Not even his death freed him as he forever was bound with shuckles that he could n...
