“What do you mean it’s gone?!” He asked, a shrill quality to his voice.
“I’ve looked everywhere, I’ve been out here digging since 5am.”
He knew that was true, he had heard the sound of his brother’s old truck as it sped out of the yard. The sun hadn’t even been half way up the sky then. Still he refused to believe him, couldn’t believe that it was truly gone.
“You must not have looked properly, you were always lazy, you always do things half way! We can’t do this half way! It’s there, it has to be, I buried it there myself. It has to be there!” He tried to take a breathe, to calm himself down. His despair was now evident in his voice, seeping through his words.
His brother grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. “It’s gone Jack! It’s gone.”
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Suddenly all he knew was the pounding of his heart in his chest. He shook free of his brother’s grasp and ran blindly through the woods. It wasn’t long before his feet betrayed him and he fell to his knees. It wasn’t until he had wiped the moisture from his cheek that he realized he has been crying.
Bumpy. Her skin was almost freckled, dappled, dimpled with goosebumps, and when she passed her hand over it she shivered.
“Don’t,” she said. “Tickles.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Don’t stop.”
Her fingers gripped hard into the flesh of her knee as their lips pressed together like water. “I can stop, if you’re uncomfortable,” she said again, as she pulled away.
“Don’t stop,” she insisted, and pulled her closer with white arms. “Don’t you dare.”
This is the strangest surface I’ve ever walked on. The terrain is made entirely of bubble gum. Not the soft sticky bubbles, but the day old, hard, stuck under a desk variety. It even smells like saliva enzymes eating away the residual sugars!
Listen to the golpe upon the drum you beat, for if you don’t, then how does your heart know when and how to beat? A group of those collectively beating the drums of their hearts are that of brothers and sisters of the same terrain.
Lost in flight, like the sounds of a Cello and Violin, he never touched ground again, never saw the sandy terrain of the desert nor the green woods of the northern forests, but he kept on flying toward a new landless place where infiniteness swallowed him and embraced him, and he never felt alone again.
“How much stereotypically rugged terrain are we going to have to trudge across before this blasted expedition is over?” growled Quinoni, brushing her too long bangs away from her eyepatch. Even two weeks after the scuffle in the tavern, her eye had not fully healed. She and Arvey were both beginning to worry that she would lose sight in that eye.
Mistress Kor, for the first time, seemed distressed. “I don’t know anymore, Miss Wuntyn.”
And so it came to pass. The rain drizzled on a magically been terrain that seemed to have a certain lively hum as the heavens gently graced the ground. María looked around at the clouds and began to feel a surge of sudden nostalgia. This memory wasn’t hers, but that of her grandfather’s, who would loved to work in the rain as he gathered his flock in the Sierra Maestra mountains.
The terrain before me is laid out, expansive and all-encompassing as its own universe. Herds of wild animals meander their way across the dusted plain in search of those things which drive all living beings on this planet.
He looked around him at the barren, wecked terrain. Scraps of buildings remained standing, strands of flotsam trailing from them like streamers after some deathly parade. This was the town he had grown up in, but now it seemed like no one would ever live here again.
i scoured the terrain for traces of myself. had i not been here though i thought this had been where i resided most of my life? i couldn’t see the path left behind. no way back. maybe this is clear indication to find new terrain to scatter. a hint not so easily taken.
“Where’s Sarnello?” Norine asked apprehensively. She looked out over the sudden end of the hill but saw nothing but an open field in the distance with a rocky divet in the earth between. Instead of receiving a reply from her guide, she felt a hard shove on her back, right between her shoulder blades, and she was launched over the edge.
She felt the air whirl around her body as she fell, then the awful battery of the earth when she knocked and bounced against the rocky slope. The world spun chaotically around her; her eyes were unable to make sense of anything until finally she came to a stop.
Slowly, heavily, her wobbly arms planted her hands on the earth. She rolled onto her knees and spit out a gob of blood. Looking up at the hill, she saw no one.
the terrain was vast. Vaster than anything he could have imagined. He looked out into this vast wilderness and saw no sign of any life. He realized he was out there alone. This wasn’t a scary thought. This was the most freeing moment of his life. For in this moment he had no obligations or responsibilities.
As the world fills in around us, we feel the overwhelming uncertainty of of our own existence. Insignificant, though I may be, I can shape all that is before me.
This was hers. She thought that because no one else wanted it. All she could find was a spoon but that would do. All she needed was something to extend her already long hand, to find histories beneath the soil. But what could she possibly find in London, where the terrain was dug and re planted monthly, to make room on top of room for a new story?
The eastern part of the state is the one that always winds up on postcards and desktop wallpapers. The west is a different story: burnt terrain, ugly vegetation and a brown shade to just about everything. Wish you were here.
The terrain after the heavy rainfall was quite changed. The young woman peered out from her kitchen window, holding her cup of tea as she studied the wild forest beyond her own tame garden. The steam from her hot mug warmed her face and she closed her eyes with a sigh. It was cold again. She was grateful for the rain, of course, but it could make things very dull in a quiet house. Unless you had someone to spend the time with, it was very lonely. Currently her only companion was the room. She would sometimes talk quietly to no one; just thinking aloud, really.
The rocks pushed against his feet but he kept walking
The river tried to trip him but he kept walking
The bugs tried to bite him but he kept walking
However, when she called out to him, he finally decided to stop.
He looked around him at the devastation that lay before him. His mouth ran dry, and he shook with the impending cold. Burn marks covered the snow as the last pieces of the village fell to the ground. He collapsed to his knees, beginning to sob while the pain sank in. His family was gone. Murdered by the men who had once pledged their lives to him. How ironic.
He rattled the glass box–it was small, not so heavy–and the spider inside scrambled and skittered to stay on an even plane, as if it were drunk. His laugh was somehow greasy, big boiling rumbles from deep in his belly.
Sandra couldn’t explain why she sat and watched without stopping him. It wasn’t just that he was bigger. But, from the corner where she glared at him somehow spiderlike too, she thought of cruel things to do to her cousin, later.
She glanced before her st the terrain. It was dry, unforgiving. But the trek she was about to undertake was a necessary one, one that she had been putting off for far to long.
Their road trip had been going fairly well until they were delayed by rough terrain. Complaints of “I’m hungry!” and “Dad, when will we be there?” rang out as they continued to trudge through the setback.
The rough terrain was enough to shield us from the enemy as we plowed our way through the thick forest. Many of us wondered if we would ever make it out alive. But not all hope was lost. I clung to the last picture I received from Mary two months ago, closed my eyes, and prayed.
Quickly he ran up the uneven terrain desperately attempting to avoid snagging his foot. On and on he ran but he simply couldn’t seem to shake the two tall men in coats pursuing like their life depended upon it.
It was rough and rocky. The land sloped away from me as I rode hard around the ridge. The sky to my right was struck through with golds, pinks, and purples; the sunset over the ocean was always stunning this time of year.
The once familiar terrain was harsh and barren, more akin to the mountains of Morrow than the lush forests of Korlinthe. The trees rose just as high but, twisted and bare though they were, they appeared as demons, rising from the earth to claw at the sky. She felt tears well in her eyes but blinked them away before the others could see.
She needed to be strong now.
The terrain of the moon is filled with divots left over from the Martian golf game at Lunar Beach Golf Club. Oh how I wished I could be seen basking in the glow of the lunar surface when the Great Grey Cup was handed to me.
She could feel the terrain get intense. She didn’t know where she was being taken, but she knew when the blindfold came off, it was going to get interesting.
The terrain wasn’t conducive to growth. But what goes with the terrain? That is for one to discover. There might be oil underground that will lead to riches. The soil may hide secret riches for those who are patient enough to undertake to discover what these riches are. if one doesn’t give up or give in.
Earth and ground and falling hard on it with no where to go, you are as far down as possible. But now not down, across, you can spread across, all these miles, these bumps, these crevices and wrinkles, you are on the skin of the earth and it is infinite. No where to go, you are endless.
plain plain in the terrain
bloodied bluffs by the lake
pastel and placed
chalked over by the late evening late
the bluffs look over more than the eye can see
and I am here with her and happy
The rocky terrain can be tricky to navigate, especially at night. That’s what they had said before he set off. They had warned him to stay on the path, but of course as any great hero he had neglected to listen.
“What do you mean it’s gone?!” He asked, a shrill quality to his voice.
“I’ve looked everywhere, I’ve been out here digging since 5am.”
He knew that was true, he had heard the sound of his brother’s old truck as it sped out of the yard. The sun hadn’t even been half way up the sky then. Still he refused to believe him, couldn’t believe that it was truly gone.
“You must not have looked properly, you were always lazy, you always do things half way! We can’t do this half way! It’s there, it has to be, I buried it there myself. It has to be there!” He tried to take a breathe, to calm himself down. His despair was now evident in his voice, seeping through his words.
His brother grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. “It’s gone Jack! It’s gone.”
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Suddenly all he knew was the pounding of his heart in his chest. He shook free of his brother’s grasp and ran blindly through the woods. It wasn’t long before his feet betrayed him and he fell to his knees. It wasn’t until he had wiped the moisture from his cheek that he realized he has been crying.
Bumpy. Her skin was almost freckled, dappled, dimpled with goosebumps, and when she passed her hand over it she shivered.
“Don’t,” she said. “Tickles.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Don’t stop.”
Her fingers gripped hard into the flesh of her knee as their lips pressed together like water. “I can stop, if you’re uncomfortable,” she said again, as she pulled away.
“Don’t stop,” she insisted, and pulled her closer with white arms. “Don’t you dare.”
The car said it could be on all terrains and that would be no problem. They lied and the car broke when it went on dirt.
This is the strangest surface I’ve ever walked on. The terrain is made entirely of bubble gum. Not the soft sticky bubbles, but the day old, hard, stuck under a desk variety. It even smells like saliva enzymes eating away the residual sugars!
Listen to the golpe upon the drum you beat, for if you don’t, then how does your heart know when and how to beat? A group of those collectively beating the drums of their hearts are that of brothers and sisters of the same terrain.
Lost in flight, like the sounds of a Cello and Violin, he never touched ground again, never saw the sandy terrain of the desert nor the green woods of the northern forests, but he kept on flying toward a new landless place where infiniteness swallowed him and embraced him, and he never felt alone again.
“How much stereotypically rugged terrain are we going to have to trudge across before this blasted expedition is over?” growled Quinoni, brushing her too long bangs away from her eyepatch. Even two weeks after the scuffle in the tavern, her eye had not fully healed. She and Arvey were both beginning to worry that she would lose sight in that eye.
Mistress Kor, for the first time, seemed distressed. “I don’t know anymore, Miss Wuntyn.”
And so it came to pass. The rain drizzled on a magically been terrain that seemed to have a certain lively hum as the heavens gently graced the ground. María looked around at the clouds and began to feel a surge of sudden nostalgia. This memory wasn’t hers, but that of her grandfather’s, who would loved to work in the rain as he gathered his flock in the Sierra Maestra mountains.
the dirt looks rough, i thought, as i touched your face.
i couldn’t resist absorbing the earth around you,
while we laid betwixt the trees.
The terrain before me is laid out, expansive and all-encompassing as its own universe. Herds of wild animals meander their way across the dusted plain in search of those things which drive all living beings on this planet.
He looked around him at the barren, wecked terrain. Scraps of buildings remained standing, strands of flotsam trailing from them like streamers after some deathly parade. This was the town he had grown up in, but now it seemed like no one would ever live here again.
i scoured the terrain for traces of myself. had i not been here though i thought this had been where i resided most of my life? i couldn’t see the path left behind. no way back. maybe this is clear indication to find new terrain to scatter. a hint not so easily taken.
“Where’s Sarnello?” Norine asked apprehensively. She looked out over the sudden end of the hill but saw nothing but an open field in the distance with a rocky divet in the earth between. Instead of receiving a reply from her guide, she felt a hard shove on her back, right between her shoulder blades, and she was launched over the edge.
She felt the air whirl around her body as she fell, then the awful battery of the earth when she knocked and bounced against the rocky slope. The world spun chaotically around her; her eyes were unable to make sense of anything until finally she came to a stop.
Slowly, heavily, her wobbly arms planted her hands on the earth. She rolled onto her knees and spit out a gob of blood. Looking up at the hill, she saw no one.
the terrain was vast. Vaster than anything he could have imagined. He looked out into this vast wilderness and saw no sign of any life. He realized he was out there alone. This wasn’t a scary thought. This was the most freeing moment of his life. For in this moment he had no obligations or responsibilities.
As the world fills in around us, we feel the overwhelming uncertainty of of our own existence. Insignificant, though I may be, I can shape all that is before me.
This was hers. She thought that because no one else wanted it. All she could find was a spoon but that would do. All she needed was something to extend her already long hand, to find histories beneath the soil. But what could she possibly find in London, where the terrain was dug and re planted monthly, to make room on top of room for a new story?
The tank reared up the bank of the crater, lurched through the barbed wire and ploughed on despite the mud.
The eastern part of the state is the one that always winds up on postcards and desktop wallpapers. The west is a different story: burnt terrain, ugly vegetation and a brown shade to just about everything. Wish you were here.
The terrain after the heavy rainfall was quite changed. The young woman peered out from her kitchen window, holding her cup of tea as she studied the wild forest beyond her own tame garden. The steam from her hot mug warmed her face and she closed her eyes with a sigh. It was cold again. She was grateful for the rain, of course, but it could make things very dull in a quiet house. Unless you had someone to spend the time with, it was very lonely. Currently her only companion was the room. She would sometimes talk quietly to no one; just thinking aloud, really.
The rocks pushed against his feet but he kept walking
The river tried to trip him but he kept walking
The bugs tried to bite him but he kept walking
However, when she called out to him, he finally decided to stop.
He looked around him at the devastation that lay before him. His mouth ran dry, and he shook with the impending cold. Burn marks covered the snow as the last pieces of the village fell to the ground. He collapsed to his knees, beginning to sob while the pain sank in. His family was gone. Murdered by the men who had once pledged their lives to him. How ironic.
can you even imagine a world with no buildings?
with nothing to stop your eyes from seeing
miles and
miles and miles?
the way that it used to be.
He rattled the glass box–it was small, not so heavy–and the spider inside scrambled and skittered to stay on an even plane, as if it were drunk. His laugh was somehow greasy, big boiling rumbles from deep in his belly.
Sandra couldn’t explain why she sat and watched without stopping him. It wasn’t just that he was bigger. But, from the corner where she glared at him somehow spiderlike too, she thought of cruel things to do to her cousin, later.
The rough terrain covered the horizon like a frayed, colorless blanket.
She glanced before her st the terrain. It was dry, unforgiving. But the trek she was about to undertake was a necessary one, one that she had been putting off for far to long.
Their road trip had been going fairly well until they were delayed by rough terrain. Complaints of “I’m hungry!” and “Dad, when will we be there?” rang out as they continued to trudge through the setback.
The rough terrain was enough to shield us from the enemy as we plowed our way through the thick forest. Many of us wondered if we would ever make it out alive. But not all hope was lost. I clung to the last picture I received from Mary two months ago, closed my eyes, and prayed.
Quickly he ran up the uneven terrain desperately attempting to avoid snagging his foot. On and on he ran but he simply couldn’t seem to shake the two tall men in coats pursuing like their life depended upon it.
It was rough and rocky. The land sloped away from me as I rode hard around the ridge. The sky to my right was struck through with golds, pinks, and purples; the sunset over the ocean was always stunning this time of year.
The once familiar terrain was harsh and barren, more akin to the mountains of Morrow than the lush forests of Korlinthe. The trees rose just as high but, twisted and bare though they were, they appeared as demons, rising from the earth to claw at the sky. She felt tears well in her eyes but blinked them away before the others could see.
She needed to be strong now.
The terrain of the moon is filled with divots left over from the Martian golf game at Lunar Beach Golf Club. Oh how I wished I could be seen basking in the glow of the lunar surface when the Great Grey Cup was handed to me.
She could feel the terrain get intense. She didn’t know where she was being taken, but she knew when the blindfold came off, it was going to get interesting.
The terrain wasn’t conducive to growth. But what goes with the terrain? That is for one to discover. There might be oil underground that will lead to riches. The soil may hide secret riches for those who are patient enough to undertake to discover what these riches are. if one doesn’t give up or give in.
A terrain
is a plain
space
for our place
home
for lions to roam,
roar
Earth and ground and falling hard on it with no where to go, you are as far down as possible. But now not down, across, you can spread across, all these miles, these bumps, these crevices and wrinkles, you are on the skin of the earth and it is infinite. No where to go, you are endless.
A terrain
is a plain
a space
for our place
a home
for a lion to roam
A terrain
is a plain
a space
for a place
where to fill a place
land
area
space
ground
piece
surface features
plain plain in the terrain
bloodied bluffs by the lake
pastel and placed
chalked over by the late evening late
the bluffs look over more than the eye can see
and I am here with her and happy
The rocky terrain can be tricky to navigate, especially at night. That’s what they had said before he set off. They had warned him to stay on the path, but of course as any great hero he had neglected to listen.