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Literature
Would you ever leave?
 The air is pleasant, moving gently with a steady breeze through the tall grass of the field.  The grass is a dry, brittle hay that makes a rough cushion under the man laying silently, watching clouds lazily move across the sky.  His eyes stay fixed on a single point directly over head, his thoughts moving with the same pace as the wisps that pass his field of vision from time to time.  He can't help but think of the first time he had come here, and the girl who had made it a place of such powerful significance.  He closes his eyes as that flood of images washes over his mind, and how much this day is like that one long past.  
 The breeze is more apparent now, his skin seemingly alive with the sensations of the wind, the dead grass burying itself in his back and all over his body.  It is irritating at first, but is replaced with the sense memory of it when the entire field was a vibrant green and created a soft mat against him.  Once that t
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Mature content
Two Become One :iconusefulidiot284:usefulidiot284 0 0
Literature
Not Sure What This Is....
 The gentle southern breeze washes over him as he faces out across the flat expanse of the dry field in front of his home.  He rocks himself lightly as he stares and focuses his graying eyes on a single treetop poking up along the horizon until everything else blurs and melts away to black.  The wind seems to pick up slightly as he loses the tree and is faced with nothing but a vast blackness in every direction.  He stands up, the rocking chair continuing to sway after he makes his way off of the porch and into the sea of black before him.  He no longer feels the soft touch of wind, but it is still eerily cold considering he lives in a notoriously hot place.  He looks to his left, then to his right, and moves toward the tree that he had been focusing on before the void had appeared and taken it out of sight.  Each step echoes as if he is walking across a stone floor in a massive cavern the size of the earth itself.  He keeps his mind focused on t
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Mature content
Inside us all.... :iconusefulidiot284:usefulidiot284 0 0
Literature
No one will ever read this....
'Immortality is the dream of children, and the passage of death is the true mark of adulthood,' these words echo through my mind every time I am confronted with death.  I see those around me mouring in the more traditional sense, weeping and the like, but I can only smile slightly at the thought that this person has found peace from any pain or suffering they may have been going through and taken a step closer to a more perfect existance.  I actually feel something more akin to jealousy that they have moved on to something that I may not see for many years to come, when I would rather be with them as they move through this exciting and profound evolutionary step.
 I look down at my hands, these pathetic inventions crudely fumbling about looking for some sense of being, of belonging, while the world around them twists and changes into ever-evolving forms.  The joke that is a human being seems to be lost on those faced with it's confines and restrictions, that we are
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Literature
Writing for the Exercise....
 'Thinking has become my worst enemy, ready to reduce me to a quivering shell of a human being with the slightest motion forward.  Strange how my mind has seen fit to turn against me, leaving me truly alone in this place.  The darkness around me now is only temporary, the others will be back this way soon, and I have no where else to hide,'  his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of crushing gravel off to his left.  He turns to the sound of the nearing steps, the elongated shadows of 3 people walk towards his last safe haven, the shadows shrinking into more appropriate human appearance as they come closer.  His body freezes in fear, tremors flowing through his body with each footfall.  Crunch....CRunch....CRUNCH....
They come into view after a few seconds, but an eternity to him in his fear-induced paralysis, the three figures, a guy and two girls, talking to one another occasionally stopping to look through storefront windows for any sign of him.
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Literature
That Rascal....Back Again
   The old man walks slowly down the icy sidewalk, flurries of snow lightly falling and melting away as soon as they reach the concrete.  His feet slip with every step, but he keeps his pace with ease.  The bundles of coats and scarfs walk quickly past while they try to keep their feet underneath them.  He keeps his head high as he watches the few passing pedestrians that try to brave the brisk winter evening.  He quickens his pace as he sees the sun drop closer to the horizon in front of him.  In the ages that have past him, there are only a few things that he can find comfort or enjoyment in, this trek being one of them.  His destination being the other.  
   The crowd thins to nothing as he reaches the sprawling park.  The lush grass is coated in a growing blanket of undisturbed snow.  He stops briefly to take in the image, finding a pleasant feeling in the sight of the pristine environment.  He hurries to his fav
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Literature
Pecking Order
I gently squeeze each cube of stale bread before I toss it to the ground.  A quiet laugh escapes my lips unconsciously as I watch the mob of pigeons in front of me attack each crumb.  My mind can't help but apply names to each bobbing head: Tom, my neighbor; Bill, my boss; Florida, my ex-whatever we were.  Their voices begin to whisper in my ear to narrate this impromptu comedy at my feet.  "....need a new job......get it done, or you are.....we are just in different places right now...."  Only I could be entertained when thinking of these moments.  Too bad other people don't take the time to watch the world put on these plays. Maybe it's crazy to see the parallels between these birds feverishly going after crumbs and apply it to the people in my life that seem content to devour the crumbs that life throws in front of them.  I just let the analytical side of my mind go quiet and just enjoy the scene as I squish anoth
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Literature
Jasper rough
  The darkened alley is briefly lit by a match as it is brought up to a poorly rolled cigarette in  the lips of a man slouched against the side of the aging warehouse.  He keeps his hands tucked deep into his coat pockets while the cold night air blows through the alley.  His collar stands up almost touching the brim of his hat, keeping the frigid breeze at bay while he indulges his habit.  The wind picks up a haunting howl as it builds to gust, drawing his head down further into his coat and keeping him from noticing the figure standing high above him on the rooftop.  The figure stands at the ledge for a moment before falling quietly, his aim is perfect as his feet plant firmly on the man's shoulders and drive him to the ground.  The man's cigarette flies out of his mouth and is picked up by the wind.  The embers burn brightly for a moment before they are put out in a puddle at the mouth of the alley.  The man lies stunned as the figure qui
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Literature
Breathing down my neck...
Spooky is what I have become accustomed to over the years.  But, I never get used to the games that spirits like playing with the living.  I have been after this particular phantasm for a few days now.  I lost her in some whole foods store a town over.  It was only an accident that I ran into the screaming man, running from his trailer in nothing but a dingy  bathrobe and bunny slippers.  It's the kind of sight that makes a man stop when he's  looking for a spirit causing nothing but trouble for those still kicking around above ground.  I came to a screeching stop as the man's screams seemed to match the sound from my tires against the asphalt.  I jump from my car with no regard for anything other then putting an end to this chase and getting on to the next job.  I rush into the trailer, the door slammed shut behind me.  Typical theatrics.  I reach for the minilight i
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Literature
Timepiece?
You know, I have never found anything worth a scratch when I walk down this river bank.  I would spend hours with my trusty trowel and pale, searching for buried treasure or old bones.  And, now of all times, I find this rickety pocket watch just sitting on top of the grey sands.  Shows just how much the universe seems to value a hard day's digging.  The piece seems to be in working order, but when I put it up to my ear I hear the damnedest thing:  the sound of a jet turbine as if it is just about take off.  I have also never come across anything quite as peculiar as that.   So, I take it my recent discovery down town to the only fella I know who might be able to figure it out,  Jasper Hesten.
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Mature content
How did I get here?...part2 :iconusefulidiot284:usefulidiot284 0 0
Literature
The Great Experiments...part1
  It's funny how lies are harmless in their inert state, or, perhaps more accurately, their undiscovered state.  Take Vincent for example: a promising student put onto the fast track for fame in the field of the conceptual sciences.  His ideas have reinvigorated a field that had been stagnating since the ability to create a hypothetical model of any formula or observation.  Since this development, scientists feared seeing their wildest dreams instantly dashed by a computer generated simulation of a flawed theory.  All of them secretly, some less so, wishing that the only equipment capable of this would meet an unforeseen and disastrous accident.  Scientists hated this inanimate being so much that they would only refer to it as the 'damnable machine'.  That is how Vincent differs from his colleagues, he looks forward to putting his theories to the test.  Not for the pride of figuring out just an infinitesima
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Literature
Hesitant step part 2
The door swings open easily as I push it inward into my forgotten land.  Like the first time I opened it all those years before, my eyes are blinded by the burst of white light from it's sun.  I bring my left hand from the cracked and beaten door up to my brow, blocking the harsh light from my eyes long enough for them to adjust from the dark of the hallway to the open air pasture in front of me.  Just as I had made it that first night, the horizon is peppered with ancient oak trees stretching to impossible heights and the odd villages spread in-between.  The color has returns but there is a viscous quality to the hues around me.  The colors seem to attack rather than warm my sight, the soft glow of the world is replaced with a harsh glare to every surface.  I bring my pistol up as I cross the threshold and enter the world I once called my creation.  
The grass bends underneath my shoe with a sound akin to glass crac
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Literature
hesitant step into familiar...
I've been here before, years ago, but seeing it now makes it feel like those days before I ran away.  I could come and go as I pleased, my passion always bringing me back for longer and longer periods of time.  That's why I had to leave, had to stay away from this paradise.  My desire to remain became an obsession that held me captive to that euphoric state I felt once I crossed the threshold to this place, my eden. My paradise turned prison began to take on the sheen of the dying world outside it's walls, the vivid hues drained to a sickly gray like the ash left from a campfire.  On that last day, I ran from the beasts that had invaded my haven from the outersphere and poisoned the forests and fields of my creation.  I had built this world as an escape from the one outside, and in so doing, had made a new land for the outer to conquer.  I shut the door, the door before me now, on this night over eight years ago.  An
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Mature content
Something to tide us over.... :iconusefulidiot284:usefulidiot284 1 1

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 The air is pleasant, moving gently with a steady breeze through the tall grass of the field.  The grass is a dry, brittle hay that makes a rough cushion under the man laying silently, watching clouds lazily move across the sky.  His eyes stay fixed on a single point directly over head, his thoughts moving with the same pace as the wisps that pass his field of vision from time to time.  He can't help but think of the first time he had come here, and the girl who had made it a place of such powerful significance.  He closes his eyes as that flood of images washes over his mind, and how much this day is like that one long past.  
 The breeze is more apparent now, his skin seemingly alive with the sensations of the wind, the dead grass burying itself in his back and all over his body.  It is irritating at first, but is replaced with the sense memory of it when the entire field was a vibrant green and created a soft mat against him.  Once that thought takes hold, the sensation of the sea of burs beneath him become soft and comforting like they had been that day.  He keeps his eyes closed as he begins to feel the air thicken and he thinks he can actually smell the storm that came back then.  The humidity collecting on his skin almost breaks his concentration, but the memories have taken over and he simply lets them wash over him.  
 He pictures the sky as it was then, gray with specks white and blue threatening to beat back the spring shower.  Then, he felt it, the one thing he was hoping would not feel as real as everything else.  The sensation of a warm breath against his neck and the soft sound it makes as it passes from her lips.  He keeps his head facing straight upand imagines the image of the two of them from overhead.  Her hair is a pond of black against the sea of green that holds us.  She has a quiet hum with ever breath, letting him know that she is still here with him.  He sees and immediately feels her arm draped across his chest and her barefeet playing absently with his worn sneakers.  The smile on both of their faces seems like a force holding back the rain to fall soon, making everything brighter and, in some way, more real.
 They lay intertwined in silence, not having to say a word as their embrace says infinitly more than any one thing.  He thinks back to how they had picked that spot, how she had sprawled out to knock down the knee-high grass, the silly and still seductive way she patted a place for him beside her.  He can feel her as she moved in close once he had laid down, the feeling of her body in his arm as he brings her in closer.  He can sense the thoughts of everything that happened after that day scratching softly, but he holds them back as he hears her say those words.  
 'This is only perfect with you,'her voice is as soft as the breath that kisses his neck, but strikes him so deeply because he knows now just how true that statement truly is.  'We will always have this day.  No matter what happens, this place will hold on to this moment until the end of time,' she says with a hint of a giggle.
 'Your dramactic liscense is reaing it's weighty head,' he replies jokingly.  She laughs sweetly into his ear as she kisses him on the cheek.  He can feel that delicate pressure as her lips meet his skin and the myriad images of ever kiss they shared flood his mind momentarily.  He shakes them away to concentrate on this moment because soon it would happen.  The part that he wishes would change, but not even he could manage something like that.  
 He can feel her shifting beside him and he turns his head to look at her, those few lazy strands of hair clinging to her wet skin.  The air is like a soup, letting him know that they should leave soon.  He remembers how hard it was to say those words as he took in the sight of her lying on the bed of grass that seemed as if it they had always been there, and this field had grown around them both.  He finally meets her auburn eyes as they seem to find his and he tightens his arm around her.  
 'I hate to say it, but I think we should start heading back to the car.  It looks like the bottom is about to fall out,' he smiles in an attempt to be charming.  She smiles at him nods her ascent.  He brings his arm up with her in tow, bringing her at rest on top of him and her face just an inch away.  Her hair falls like a blanket over his head and he feels his body being driven to move.  His hands make their way to the sides of her face and he kisses her deeply.  The sensation of her lips against his brings a tear to his eye when a blinding white light fills his eyes.  
 Suddenly, he sees the striking blue sky that had been overhead during his trip.  More clouds have formed as he notices the sun is almost directly above him.  The jolt of being brought back to the present makes his stomach turn as he adjusts to when he is now.  It is always dangerous for him to sink into his thoughts so deeply, but this particular moment seems as if he needed it.  That tear evaporates in the noonday light, leaving a sticky trail of salt from the corner of his eyes to his ears.  He takes a series of deep breaths to acclimate to his return and force his body into movement.
 The dead and dying grass around him crackles and breaks under his weight as he pushes himself up to his feet.  He hated leaving her, but he is gratefully not to relive the rest of that day.  And force himself to remember why this place holds such power over him.  He also knows that he will be attacked by those thoughts later, they always find him no matter where he goes.  He looks up once more, using his hand to fight the sun while he takes in everything around him.  And, still in silence, he makes his way out of the field through the path he had cut when he had first arrived this morning.  Maybe this would be the last time he would come here, but almost immediately he knows that is not true.  Because here, she is still with him, still in this world, and still the love of his life.  At that thought, he knows that he will be back here next year, and he hopes that it will rain on that day....    
Would you ever leave?
Just something that seemed to need an outlet.  I wish this had actually happened, but my mind seems strangely preoccupied. I hope it makes for a good read. Enjoy:neom:
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 His hands ache as he slowly clinches and opens his fists, blood trickling from his knuckles and into a growing pool at his feet.  Some his own, most belong to the heap of flesh and broken bones before him that was once a living being.  The silence of the night air swallows him while he closes his eyes and tries to calm his mind and catch his breath.  He had never felt so much rage as he did just moments ago, and now he feels like an empty shell that is slowly crumbling underneath it’s own weight.  His legs begin to buckle and he falls to his knees in the pool of drying blood, the ground is soft beneath him as he drops his hands into the low grass and turns his eyes to the pitch black sky.  He stares mindlessly, trying to distract himself by counting the stars directly above him.  This quickly becomes impossible as his eyes well up with tears and he sobs, quietly at first and builds to an almost primal series of wails and screams.  The sound carries for miles in all directions as he tries to exorcise the coming waves of guilty and remorse for the evil he never thought himself capable of in a million years.  
 He lets the tears roll down his face as he continues to look up to the vast blackness above him, each tear mixing with droplets of blood that had landed on his face during the savagery, giving the appearance that he is actually crying blood.  He can’t bring himself to look anymore, so he closes his eyes once again and tries to find something to focus his thoughts so that he can regain some sense of sanity.  The night air brushes over his cheeks carefully wiping away his tears and cooling his skin.  The bugs return to their nightly duties after a few moments of stillness, the song of the crickets in the reeds nearby giving him something to focus on other than himself.  He opens his eyes to see a small group of lightning bugs hopping from one blade of grass to the next and higher into the air.  He follows their dim light until they are lost in the blanket of stars above him.  
 He can feel time inch by as the blood congeals into a second skin around his legs and over his hands.  He looks down to see the sticky black ink going from his finger tips almost to his elbow, and a few flies drawn to the smell.  The air is heavy with the stench of copper, even being outdoors with a slight breeze, the smell is so much that he can taste it on his tongue.  He spits to try and clear the sensation, but it is no use.  He stays knelt on the ground for a few more moments before he tries to stand.  The pool of once red and now black tries to come with him, but is easily broken once he gets his feet underneath him.  The flies stay fixed to his arms as he turns and begins to walk towards the fence of trees to his left.  The crickets continue to chirp as he wades through the grass, the blades growing taller as he goes, starting at his ankles and reaching his waist by the time he makes it to the trees.
  The light from the moon is swallowed by the canopy above him as he makes his way deeper into the woods.  Towering pines blot out everything overhead, only allowing brief openings to see the stars that are clearer without the moonlight to dull them.  He walks aimlessly for hours before he even give thought to a destination, his mind blank until a thought comes to him.  It is the last place he would like to be, but that would make it the best place for him to be at this time.


 The gentle southern breeze washes over him as he faces out across the flat expanse of the dry field in front of his home.  He rocks himself lightly as he stares and focuses his graying eyes on a single treetop poking up along the horizon until everything else blurs and melts away to black.  The wind seems to pick up slightly as he loses the tree and is faced with nothing but a vast blackness in every direction.  He stands up, the rocking chair continuing to sway after he makes his way off of the porch and into the sea of black before him.  He no longer feels the soft touch of wind, but it is still eerily cold considering he lives in a notoriously hot place.  He looks to his left, then to his right, and moves toward the tree that he had been focusing on before the void had appeared and taken it out of sight.  Each step echoes as if he is walking across a stone floor in a massive cavern the size of the earth itself.  He keeps his mind focused on the point in front of him as a bright light explodes filling the sea of black around.  He keeps his pace as the light burns white and begins to slowly dim to that of the setting sun, and the ground beneath him is revealed to be a field of lush green grass.  Still, he keeps his eyes set in front of him and his steps deliberate as the world begins to change around him again and the green fades into white sands along a shoreline.  He stops once his feet reach waters of the incoming tide.  The smell of the sea water fills his nose while he looks at the blood red sun falling into the distant waters.  Brilliant hues of red, gold, and purple are painted across the sky as the light fades to nothing but a thread along the horizon.  He holds his head up when a strong wind blows over him, small specks of water hitting him in the face and his hands.  He had been on the frontier for so many years that he had almost forgotten what the sea looked like, or even smelled like, by this point.  Once the sun finally set the sky takes on the same darkness that had brought him to this place, but is eventually replaced the glow of the moon and the blanket of stars overhead.  He kicks his boots off and lets the cooling waters wash over his feet as he stares at the vastnesses above him, a single tear forms at the corner of his eye but refuses to fall.  He loves his home, the place that is his, but the sea as always been his sanctuary, the place where he can find the peace he always seemed to be in search of but never able to find.  He soaks in everything before the sound of a voice, faint at first but growing louder with each tidal crash, calls his name.  He takes one last look at the star-filled sky above him and then slowly turns around.  In an instant, he is back on the porch of his home, the wind still blowing softly on him, but the sky is darker and storm clouds have begun to form to the left of the horizon.  ’Hey, honey, you still with us?’, his wife says as she rocks his shoulder to wake him.  ’Yep, I’m here, just went for a stroll to the shore,’  he smiles as he looks at her, ’But I’m back.  God, you are as beautiful as the day I met you.’  She blushes, smiles, and leans down to kiss him softly on his cheek.  She lovingly grips his arm and makes her way back inside the cabin.  ’Would you make sure the barn is locked up and everything is tied down, it looks like it is going to get rough tonight?’  He smiles and slowly gets to his feet.  He stretches and stares off to the direction of the brewing storm and smirks, ’It’s about damn time.’  He takes his first step and feels the insole of his boots squish, and another smile crosses his face as he thinks of the shore and the blanket of stars overhead.    

 He makes his way toward the shabby barn a couple hundred feet from the cabin, the air chilling and whipping at him as the sky begins to dark.  Not quite as dark as the void, but an eerie darkness that still managed to have some brightness to it.  The air is quiet for the time being, only the soft whistle of the rising winds through the tall grass.  He could feel the storm building above him and he knew then that they were in for a rough night.  Once he reaches the heavy and weathered doors of the barn, he walks the perimeter closing the few windows and securing the exterior locks before he makes his way inside to do the same to the interior locks.  His eyes are focused on the task at hand so that he doesn’t notice the thin trail of blood leading from the forest forming the natural border of his property up to the last open window at the back of the barn.   He makes the rounds to each of the windows inside placing thick pieces of timber into iron brackets and sealing the shutters tightly.  The wind is howling as he reaches the last window and puts the timber in place.  He tugs on the wood to make sure it is secure, that is when he notices blood smears on the sill of the window.  He keeps himself calm as he makes his way to the door and stops in the center of the barn.  ’Whoever is in here, you need to come out now.  I don’t know if you are hurt, or if you hurt somebody.  In any case, you can’t stay here.  So, I am giving you a chance to leave now and there will be no problem.’  He stands still, waiting for any sign that he wasn’t being tricked or just plain losing his mind.  
 Then his suspicions are confirmed when a figure rises from behind a mound of hay bales in a darkened corner to his left.  He mentally kicks himself because he had walked right by this person without even being aware of their presence.  The figure is in shadow for a few seconds before reaching the weak light coming from outside.  It looks like a man by the build of him, but he stops as he sees the source of the smears on the sill.  The man’s hands are covered in blood up to his elbows, the blood dried to the point that it could be mistaken for black paint that had dried on his skin.  It is clearly blood when he sees dark red stains on the lower parts of his jeans.  His pant legs going from a faded denim to a deep burgundy color from his knees to his cuffs.  Finally, he looks to the man’s face and lets out a gasp when he sees the man’s eyes.  ’Gene, is that you?’
 ’Hey, Miles, it’s been a while, huh?’  the man says in a deep, raspy voice, a slight accent only noticeable to the other man’s ear.  ’Sorry to just drop in on you like this, but I didn’t think it would be a good idea to knock on the door looking like some horror movie extra.  I figured this would be alright, especially since a pretty nasty storm is about to flood this place.’  Gene tries to keep the conversation as casual as possible before the rough talk takes over.
 ’You son of a bitch.  I haven’t seen you in 11 years and this is how you show up, covered in what I can only assume is someone else’s blood.  Trust me, there is no good way to drop by looking like that,’  Miles does his best to calm himself as he looks Gene in the eye, and that is when he notices it.  His eyes are still puffy and bloodshot, and the ruts where tears would have fallen are visible against the blood splattered across his face.  ’You were crying, so it must be bad.  Come here.’  He walks over to Gene with his arms open , the other only opening his arms to take hold of Miles.  ’It has been too long, brother,’  Miles whispers, his voice shaky as he says the word  ‘brother’.
 ‘That it has, brother.  Far too long, and I am sorry to show up like this, but I can explain.  If you want to hear it,’  Gene’s voice softens as he embraces and eases his hold on his brother.  He stands back and looks into Miles’ eyes as he responds, ’Of course, but we should get you cleaned up and into the cabin before this storm picks up.  There is a hose out back, so go and clean yourself up.  I think there are some of my old work clothes in the loft.  Once you get changed we will head back to the house,’ Miles says trying to hold back the flurry of emotions rushing over him.  Gene simply nods and makes his way out to the back of the barn.  While he scrubs the dried blood from his arms and face, Miles makes his way up the creaky ladder to the small hay loft.  A few boxes are arranged in a loose pile in the far corner, the one he is looking for is buried under a couple boxes of the kids old toys and some of his parent’s things.  The box is marked Halloween and inside is a worn flannel shirt and some jeans they had used to clothe a scarecrow a couple of years back, when they lived in place where they were actually visited by trick-or-treaters.  He grabs the clothes in one hand and makes his way back down to meet his brother at the front of the barn.
 Gene rounds the corner as he closes and secures the barn doors with another large piece of timber.  His face and arms are still red, but only due to the force of his scrubbing.  The blood is gone except for the parts of his clothes that are stained black.  He holds the shabby outfit out to his brother and says, ‘Here you go, these were mine so they should be big enough for you.’  He forces a smile as Gene takes them and quickly changes into the new gear.  The shirt is musty, making him cough as he puts it on and buttons it up.  He shrugs out of his jeans pulls the weathered pair up with a little effort.  They are nearly identical in body type, though the time on the ranch had given Miles more definition, while Gene’s body had learned how to hide the strength it possessed.  Gene bunches up the blood clothes and tucks them through the slim gap at the bottom of the barn doors.  He turns to look at Miles and simply nods.
 Miles stares at him for a few moments before turning and making his way back to the cabin.  Gene jogs up behind him until they are walking at the same pace.  The entire time, the storm has steadily increased, the wind whipping by them, the lightning and thunder filling the nearly black sky overhead, and the rain falling in thin sheets.  By the time they cross the field and reach the porch, the rain is pouring down in waves.  They had been worried that the drought would never end, and it seems that nature is trying to make up for lost time with this storm.
Two Become One
These are two pieces I have posted that have grown into one story.  With a bit extra for those that might have read the previous posts already.  Enjoy.:neom:
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usefulidiot284
Roger
Artist
United States
Current Residence: mississippi
Favourite genre of music: As long as it isn't country, I can dig it.
Favourite cartoon character: Huey Freeman of The Boondocks, or the hotdog from Perfect Hair Forever
Personal Quote: "Sorry about that, you caught me with one foot off the merry-go-round."
Interests
Hello everyone, whoever might actually read this, I realize that I have not contributed to my profile for quite some time, so I have decided to post this brief entry to feel somewhat productive.  I hope to have some worthwhile things to post in the near future, but I find that keeping myself motivated is proving difficult.  I will post some random thing in the next few weeks, at least.  I don't know how to seemlessly end this, so.... Take care everyone, and I will be back.:neom:

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:icontheonly-makaila:
TheOnly-MaKaila Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Long time, no see! I just wanted to see if you participated in the National Novel Writing Month again. I did, but unfortunately fell short :no: Oh well, no harm, no foul, right? It was worth it because now I have more amazing stories for my current project, and I have you to thank for introducing me to nanowrim to begin with. :thanks:
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:iconelectric-lime:
electric-lime Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2012
thank you so much for the :+fav:!! :D
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:iconmonstersalsa:
MonsterSalsa Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2011   Photographer
HAI IDIOT :3
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:iconusefulidiot284:
usefulidiot284 Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2011
Hey Salsa!!!!!!! It's been a bit, but I has returned.:neom:
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:iconmonstersalsa:
MonsterSalsa Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2011   Photographer
YAY! :dummy:
I missded youuuu
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:icontheonly-makaila:
TheOnly-MaKaila Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the Watch
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:iconusefulidiot284:
usefulidiot284 Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2011
Your welcome, and thank you for the watch, as well.:neom:
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:icontheonly-makaila:
TheOnly-MaKaila Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
No problem
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:icontheonly-makaila:
TheOnly-MaKaila Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
If you don't mind, I'd like to add you as one of my Writing Buddies for the National Novel Writing Month. What's your username?
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:iconusefulidiot284:
usefulidiot284 Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2011
Sure you can, I am under the same name as this one. If you ever need help or motivation, don't hesitate to drop a line. I am always happy to help.:neom:
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