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PermafrostThe park bench was cold, as was the twirling wind through the trees in the early morning. The faded pine, diseased with carved names and vulgar symbolism seemingly wrapped my bottom as if attempting to give any amount of comfort. The leaves shook and spun through the chill autumn sky, dancing the summoning ballet of Winter.
The ground, sprinkled with frost, glistened in the rising sun. Few birds chattered, if not for those creatures, silence would have overcome the landscape. I wrapped my sweatshirt tighter against my bosom, trying to keep warm. My breath became a light fog, seemingly exhaling more despair than carbon dioxide.
I slowly laid down on the rock hard bench, letting my hair drip and twist through the boards. Curling myself up in a ball, I shivered and shook as the morning dragged on. The nature-mother pitied me not, as her cruel breath enveloped about me. Spirit lost within the breeze, tears ran from cheek to ground like dreadful rain drops, cast upon the Earth and forgotten
Nothing But Wastes - Frigid VictimizationMarsha hadn't always been the battle-hardened (or rather, so she thought) adventurer of the Northern-Russian wasteland. She'd been a victim, ravaged and abused by what at the time was left of a decent society.
Shortly after the war, small groups of people tried their best to reclaim some sense of structure and a civilized life-style after the absolute devestation wrought upon the country. Many tried, but most failed. They failed, in part, because they stuck to their common beliefs and true morals. Surviving, it seemed, was a game of sick self-interest. You couldn't live trying to protect everyone, and you certainly couldn't without a weak heart.
Savage individual tribes soon developed, assimilating locals and stragglers into their ranks, or just enslaved them. They killed for fun. They tortured and raped the innocent out of boredom and dispicable lust. And yet, they held the power, so no one could stand up and face them. They outnumbered every last good soul, it seemed.
Marsha was one
Nothing But Wastes - Turkey ShootThe next morning, surprisingly, not much fresh snow had accumulated at the bottom of our make-shift shelter. We only had to brush off a small layer of ice and fluffy powder from our packs and clothing when we crawled out the next morning. The sun was just peeking up over the horizon, casting eerie shadows on the blank landscape. It was cool, but not as bad as the night we'd just endured.
"So, how far away are we from the site now?" Marsha yawned, stretching her arms up towards the bleak, grey skies. "I just want to find a nice place to sit."
I pointed over to a small strip of dismembered vehicles on what used to be a road.
"That's the interstate there. It's only about three or four miles up." Scooping up a chunk of snow, I placed it on my tongue and let it melt. At least we always had water in this frozen hell.
We trudged down the barren highway for quite some time without interruption. Marsha stopped at certain points to try and nab a small bird or rabbit with her crossbow; although,
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More