Cold and heavy in my hand. His sandy texture always reminds me of where I found him. That day we took our first breath of freedom from Cell Block C; If you could feign such a thing as freedom in this new world. I remember the moment when we reached the beach of the mainland. That was when I heard his whispers from between the graveled stones. Piercing but soothing. Trapped as I once was.
I hear his voice still. Now, safe from the passing thunderstorm, with the warmth of a fire beside me his whisper is a scream. A scream none can hear but myself. A scream I can feel on my eardrums, now tender from his unrelenting riddling..
I wait. Dry blood on the floor from the last who sought comfort by this fire. The only thing that grants me silence from the voice echoing from my hand is an answer fit for the questions.. the incessant questions! I've lost patience for the ramblings of those who can't give me an answer I need..
Most don't take the riddles seriously. They laugh or try to run when I plead with them to give me any sort of insight. In that moment the anger blooms from within the jagged granite in my hand. He finds their skulls one way or another. If they have the answer in their heads I'll find it.. None yet have had the wisdom to grant me silence from this demon, only enough food from their flesh too keep me asking.
The storm passes. Now dry, I scrape old blood flakes off his surface with my thumbnail. A gunshot rings in the distance. I run north where it came from. The now warm stone in my hand hopes to find answers... I may not get that silence, but I think lunch is in order....
I hear his voice still. Now, safe from the passing thunderstorm, with the warmth of a fire beside me his whisper is a scream. A scream none can hear but myself. A scream I can feel on my eardrums, now tender from his unrelenting riddling..
I wait. Dry blood on the floor from the last who sought comfort by this fire. The only thing that grants me silence from the voice echoing from my hand is an answer fit for the questions.. the incessant questions! I've lost patience for the ramblings of those who can't give me an answer I need..
Most don't take the riddles seriously. They laugh or try to run when I plead with them to give me any sort of insight. In that moment the anger blooms from within the jagged granite in my hand. He finds their skulls one way or another. If they have the answer in their heads I'll find it.. None yet have had the wisdom to grant me silence from this demon, only enough food from their flesh too keep me asking.
The storm passes. Now dry, I scrape old blood flakes off his surface with my thumbnail. A gunshot rings in the distance. I run north where it came from. The now warm stone in my hand hopes to find answers... I may not get that silence, but I think lunch is in order....