Untitled II

I'm really proud of this one. I weaved a lot of themes together, and even though it seems so bleak there's still a hint of hope in the darkness. I hope you all like it, and please take the time to read it all, it's not as long as it looks because I cut the lines really short.

(PS - this one has nothing to do with Untitled except that it's more serious then my general work)

Untitled II


She drove down the road in her jeep, Fred.
She had nicknamed the jeep Fred because it
reminded her of someone she knew named
Fred. Steady, dependable, but sometimes it
would break down for no reason. Around the
car, yellow dandelions were sprouting up
all over the place like the sun peeking out
behind a green cloud. She glanced on the
other side of the road. Tulips were growing
haphazardly in the middle of the road, even
though they were purposefully planted. She
brought her attention back to the road and
the huge hulking metal contraptions of
noise and pollution that seemed to live on
it. Funny how something nature made - even
as small as a dandelion - seemed to radiate
perfection, whereas humans' constructions
seemed only capable to destroy.



The man pulled the string on his contraption. At first it seemed
dead. He pulled it a few more times and then it suddenly sprung
to life with a loud roar. It buzzed and it snarled and it hissed and
it rattled. He didn't particularly like his job, but whenever he
thought of quitting he remembered his family. He realized, for
the first time, that most likely if he wasn't around that they would
probably be homeless.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he focused his attention on the thing
that thrashed around in his hands as if it had a life of it's own. These
things must make the loudest noise. His boss had directed him to cut
down trees in that direction, which he had accompanied with a vague
gesture. He looked at the trees around him. They looked utterly random,
at least to him. He called the gesture up in his mind and tried to follow it,
but then almost ran into a marked tree. That was easy enough... He started
cutting it down, but something felt wrong. A pang of doubt ran through his mind.
His intuition, which his parents had told him a long time ago never to
doubt, was bothering him. Something wasn't quite right with this tree...
but he shoved his doubts aside and continued cutting.

Then several things happened at once. The saw hit a small but strong
metal spike inside the tree. The saw's blades were instantly grinded away,
and the strong forward momentum of the saw was rebounded back at him,
because of the spike. As all this happened, time stopped. The man
realized that someone had put a spike in the tree to protect it, probably
some crazy environmentalist. He realized how ironic this was, because now the
saw wasn't going to kill the tree, it was going to kill him. Then time
continued flowing, and his realization became reality.



Much deeper in
the forest, someone
pounded another
spike into a tree.
A pang of doubt
had ran through
his mind when
he heard the chainsaw
fire up. A friend had
assuaged his doubts,
however.
Maybe he was killing
people, but if he
didn't do it, the
loggers were
going to
kill them all.



Far away, in a house overlooking the forest, a man stepped outside on to his balcony. The forest with the sun setting behind it sure did look beautiful. Maybe he should paint a picture.

What a...story/poem. I really like it, especially cause of the topic :P
However, I noticed one gramatical error and that was "grinded". It's not grinded, rather it is ground. I know, weird, but it's true.
That's my favourite line.
Great work, rep given :D

Thanks for your comments!

I noticed that spellcheck was complaining about 'grinded', but it sounded fine to me so I kept it (whoops) :P As long as you know what I tried to say, right?

Great storyesque thing....not sure exactly you want it to be defined as.

Just always trust Microsoft Spell Check.

"Failure is not an option,
It comes prepackaged with Windows"