Ä Area: F-CulTuReSuX ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
  Msg#: 1045                                         Date: 03-08-95  14:30
  From: Moonchild                                    Read: Yes    Replied: No
    To: All                                          Mark:
  Subj: some stuff written by me
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ


He got into his car. Snow covered the driveway, making
the navigation through the narrow gate even harder.
Once he got through, nervous, tired, he turned on
the radio. Music gave him the feeling of having company,
the feeling of comfort in this cold and deadly white world.
Dusk was already falling when he reached the highway.
City lights, neon advertisements were glowing below him,
promising warm food and beautiful girls. 'Liars', he thought.
All he wanted was a good night's sleep. But not now.
He soon exhausted his eyes by staring at the snow and
the headlights of the few passing cars. He wished he had
his sunglasses with him. But they were broken a long
time ago. It was summer then, the sun shimmering in a way
he couldn't even imagine now.
And the waves, the waves of the sea were so similar to
this frozen rain falling in endless waves...
The face of a hitchhiker emerged from the snow: white,
with eyes wide with fear? Or cold? Or some drugs?
He'll never know. He drove on. The radio whispered to
him, talking about Eastern politicians and the price of petrol.
Nothing was the same. The world has changed, somehow,
it has changed rapidly, without him ever knowing it - and
now it's cold... The car's heating was long since out of
order. But the radio still worked, and through static
noise, he heard an old song playing, a sad man singing
about summers long gone...
Yes, the summer... Was there going to be another? Or is it just
endless snow? Reality and him were enemies a long time
ago - dreams haunted him, sometimes his days were filled
with creatures he feared and denied, sometimes he
was afraid of losing his last reamaining bit of sanity.
And darkness closed around him like a pillow thrown on
the face of a suffocating man. His headlights wrestled
with the dark, finally pierced it.
He drove past a gas-station, empty and dead in the night,
a man sitting in a small room brightly lit, the petrol pumps
containing the last remnants of dinosaurs, their hoses
like tentacles of some strange animal drowned in oil...
He turned right at that familiar exit. The snow blinded
him again. But he knew the way. The radio played another
song, this one by Tom Waits. "One more block, the engine
talks, whispers 'Home at last', whispers 'Home at last.'"



... Can't feel the feel but feels like it hurts...
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12

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 ! Origin: Certain Kretenity - Entering ThE DarkNess (69:361/1)