I awoke to find myself in an empty car in the middle of a gravel road. It was sweltering inside the vehicle that didn't belong to me. Looking around I realized the car wasn't the only thing that didn't belong to me.
Sitting beside me was an older woman. And with absolutely no recollection of who she was, I decided that I'd done at least something sexual with the girl.
And there was an odour. Some smell that I couldn't quite place but a smell that led me to recall terrifying memories of some fog-covered plain where a battle had been. A battle unlike any that I had ever seen. Friend blindly fighting friend for a prize that could not be seen or touched. A prize that wasn't there. The prize of faith. For it was in the winner that these people would put their faith, blind once again to the ignorance of their squandor and the hopelessness of their situations.
For, if I remember correctly, I was meant to win but somehow couldn't do it. I realized that when these people declared their faith in me, I would instantly change into that which I had hated and rose up against from the start.
And, the woman sitting beside me understood this. But she didn't know it yet. Just as I didn't.
3 comments:
This is interesting Brandon. Quick question though, do YOU even know what it's talking about? Or are you hoping someone clever like Tess will make some sense out of it.
I wouldn't recommend anyone try to psychoanalyze any work of fiction written by me. I mean, by all means go ahead and do so. I would love some insight into it, however does she realize that this mind was the last known resting place of the Manson family? Would she make that grim connection? If so I'll just have to cut off her head and bury her somewhere.
If Tool is good enough to prompt this post,I really need to see them the next time I have opportunity. That is if this is about Tool. One can never be certain of anything after all.
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