Why is he hanging there where is everyone— why why why oh no-no-no-no-no this can’t be happening no I won’t let this happen I won’t-I won’t-I WON’T why is he not looking why is he not looking where is everyone the air is too cold I’m freezing I can’t feel no-no-no I need to focus there’s a hand there’s a hand but why is he not not grabbing it no-no-no-no what is he doing WHAT IS HE DOING— the air is too cold the sky is too dark there are no clouds I can see the stars I can feel the wind it’s too cold-too cold-too cold grab it-grab it-GRAB IT—
He tries to cry out for help, tries to get the youngster’s attention. But he is too far out, too out in the open. No one can see or hear his shout. It won’t dawn upon anyone that a man is literally about to drop from several notably feet in the air into the lake below. He was right to worry; his ignorance has now brought forth his doom. And yet he struggles—he tries to maintain his balance, tries to hold the fragile framework together for just a little longer so he can reach the end.
The landing pad is nowhere in sight, however, and his hands start loosening their grip.
Is this how it ends? Waking up without a clue of his former identity, leading forth by a kind family, falling to his death at the first taste of adventure? He is fortunate enough…he gets to experience unacquainted love before the world crushes his existence. His bare, limited existence. Is this how everything will end? No explanation? No justice?
No repentance?
There’s a hand there’s a hand— Reaching-reaching down oh he finally saw it now please please please yes-yes that’s it keep going don’t stop-don’t stop-DON’T STOP if he falls will the ground— no-no-no don’t think-don’t think-DON’T THINK it won’t happen it won’t happen the ground has nothing on it there is nothing-nothing-nothing-NOTHING if he falls oh if he falls please don’t fall please hang on-hang on-HANG ON no-no-no-no what is he doing what is he—
He says nothing when the rope finally breaks, and he starts to slip. His hands feel numb, and he has no more strength to give. So this is what hopelessness does to people: it steals away their last breath and taunts them with images of their life. Only he has no life to remember. Only he has nothing to recall.
He is nothing.
No-no-no-no-no NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WHY IS IT SLIPPING WHY IS IT SLIPPING HE’S FALLING HE’S FALLING NO NO NO WHERE ARE THE OTHERS WHERE ARE THEY WHY AM I HERE WHY AM I NOT—
Why am I not—
There is no pain when his body hit the water…there is only a loud splash as the thinning ice gives away. He doesn’t know if the youngster heard him. He doesn’t care anymore. He will drift alone under the waves, surrounded by liquid that will still his beating heart. When morning arrives, and he is found, the pain will be no more.
He will be gone.
In the last few moments of his life, he struggles to open his eyes. They are half-closed, unable to handle the crushing pressure. He wants to see the lake for what it is. He wants to see how blue, how dark, the water is, and the creatures residing within. He wants to know how it all ended, and he keeps them open for as long as he can.
Ha…ha… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA there is no use there is no use he is going to FALL and there is no use even if I go there is no use THERE IS NO USE no-no-no-no but I can’t I can’t just let him go— no-no-no-no-no wait listen-listen-LISTEN remember what he said remember REMEMBER there is no use there is no use—
This was destined to happen—
At last, he sees.
He sees the bottom of the lake: the rocks and vegetations scattered across the final layer, the fishes parting away, the bubbles coming out of his mouth and disappearing into the faraway surface. The cables tangle around his legs and drag him downwards without resistance from his frozen body, from the waves.
Why is he hanging there where is everyone— why why why oh no-no-no-no-no this can’t be happening no I won’t let this happen I won’t-I won’t-I WON’T why is he not looking why is he not looking where is everyone the air is too cold I’m freezing I can’t feel no-no-no I need to focus there’s a hand there’s a hand but why is he not not grabbing it no-no-no-no what is he doing WHAT IS HE DOING— the air is too cold the sky is too dark there are no clouds I can see the stars I can feel the wind it’s too cold-too cold-too cold grab it-grab it-GRAB IT—
He tries to cry out for help, tries to get the youngster’s attention. But he is too far out, too out in the open. No one can see or hear his shout. It won’t dawn upon anyone that a man is literally about to drop from several notably feet in the air into the lake below. He was right to worry; his ignorance has now brought forth his doom. And yet he struggles—he tries to maintain his balance, tries to hold the fragile framework together for just a little longer so he can reach the end.
The landing pad is nowhere in sight, however, and his hands start loosening their grip.
Is this how it ends? Waking up without a clue of his former identity, leading forth by a kind family, falling to his death at the first taste of adventure? He is fortunate enough…he gets to experience unacquainted love before the world crushes his existence. His bare, limited existence. Is this how everything will end? No explanation? No justice?
No repentance?
There’s a hand there’s a hand— Reaching-reaching down oh he finally saw it now please please please yes-yes that’s it keep going don’t stop-don’t stop-DON’T STOP if he falls will the ground— no-no-no don’t think-don’t think-DON’T THINK it won’t happen it won’t happen the ground has nothing on it there is nothing-nothing-nothing-NOTHING if he falls oh if he falls please don’t fall please hang on-hang on-HANG ON no-no-no-no what is he doing what is he—
-last edited on Oct 28, 2018 1:19:08 GMT by TeaLeaf❀
Post by TeaLeaf❀ on Oct 28, 2018 1:18:28 GMT
He sees an old man seated among the murky depths, eyes closed and face partially covered by a conical hat. Long, white strands of beard stretch out all around the figure: an otherworldly presence somehow kept at ease despite the tempestuous ripples raging above, floating yet not floating. A teapot and worn staff hover around his unmoving body as he remains deep in meditation. The bizarre sight washes away all thoughts of danger, and he instantly forgets about his impending doom.
I know now— I know what to do this was bound to happen and there is no use-there is no use-there is no use— watch him slip watch him fall there is no use let him fall LET HIM FALL—
He looks on as the figure raises his head, the latter’s gentle, ancient eyes meeting his naïve, sensitive orbs. Signs of old age is all over the man’s withered face, where numerous wrinkles have overtaken his once youthful countenance. A slow, peaceful aura radiates from him and him only, calming the currents of the lake, calming his turbulent, hopeless soul, and he is left astonished and humbled.
He isn’t breathing, but time suddenly slows. His drawn out breath gives away little by little, yet he manages to hold on. Faith returns to his heart, and he wills himself to be strong. He can, he must, hold on. Help will arrive soon…and he will be safe. Even as his vision starts to darken and blur, he maintains this belief and keeps going. The figure in the water is seemingly giving him a sign of approval as he smiles and drinks down a cup of tea in salutation. How absurd! …Yet such is hope and its miraculous nature, and he is no longer afraid.
Let him fall…
When his eyes finally give away, his mind, too, begins to fade. The exhaustion has finally caught up to him, and his last breath, long as it has been, is at its final moments. It is then he feels a pair of hands grab hold of his submerged body and pull him toward the surface. It is then, with his body weakened and mind spent, the stranger fully loses his consciousness as he breaks through the water and inhales the Birchwood air once more, alive.
This was bound to happen.
So let it be.
~~~~ And there we have it---chapter 4! Time to write moar.
He sees an old man seated among the murky depths, eyes closed and face partially covered by a conical hat. Long, white strands of beard stretch out all around the figure: an otherworldly presence somehow kept at ease despite the tempestuous ripples raging above, floating yet not floating. A teapot and worn staff hover around his unmoving body as he remains deep in meditation. The bizarre sight washes away all thoughts of danger, and he instantly forgets about his impending doom.
I know now— I know what to do this was bound to happen and there is no use-there is no use-there is no use— watch him slip watch him fall there is no use let him fall LET HIM FALL—
He looks on as the figure raises his head, the latter’s gentle, ancient eyes meeting his naïve, sensitive orbs. Signs of old age is all over the man’s withered face, where numerous wrinkles have overtaken his once youthful countenance. A slow, peaceful aura radiates from him and him only, calming the currents of the lake, calming his turbulent, hopeless soul, and he is left astonished and humbled.
He isn’t breathing, but time suddenly slows. His drawn out breath gives away little by little, yet he manages to hold on. Faith returns to his heart, and he wills himself to be strong. He can, he must, hold on. Help will arrive soon…and he will be safe. Even as his vision starts to darken and blur, he maintains this belief and keeps going. The figure in the water is seemingly giving him a sign of approval as he smiles and drinks down a cup of tea in salutation. How absurd! …Yet such is hope and its miraculous nature, and he is no longer afraid.
Let him fall…
When his eyes finally give away, his mind, too, begins to fade. The exhaustion has finally caught up to him, and his last breath, long as it has been, is at its final moments. It is then he feels a pair of hands grab hold of his submerged body and pull him toward the surface. It is then, with his body weakened and mind spent, the stranger fully loses his consciousness as he breaks through the water and inhales the Birchwood air once more, alive.
This was bound to happen.
So let it be.
~~~~ And there we have it---chapter 4! Time to write moar.
*gasps IRL* Oh, uh-uh. O.O
I suspected. . . I wondered, and I figured. . . but I decided to think differently, in case I was wrong, because I'm so often wrong in these cases. But. . .
. . . I don't think this guy's name is Bert.
TeaLeaf. Gurl. This is good. Like, really good. I felt like I was just as frozen in the moment as he was, floating in time. . .
He sees an old man seated among the murky depths, eyes closed and face partially covered by a conical hat. Long, white strands of beard stretch out all around the figure: an otherworldly presence somehow kept at ease despite the tempestuous ripples raging above, floating yet not floating. A teapot and worn staff hover around his unmoving body as he remains deep in meditation. The bizarre sight washes away all thoughts of danger, and he instantly forgets about his impending doom.
I know now— I know what to do this was bound to happen and there is no use-there is no use-there is no use— watch him slip watch him fall there is no use let him fall LET HIM FALL—
He looks on as the figure raises his head, the latter’s gentle, ancient eyes meeting his naïve, sensitive orbs. Signs of old age is all over the man’s withered face, where numerous wrinkles have overtaken his once youthful countenance. A slow, peaceful aura radiates from him and him only, calming the currents of the lake, calming his turbulent, hopeless soul, and he is left astonished and humbled.
He isn’t breathing, but time suddenly slows. His drawn out breath gives away little by little, yet he manages to hold on. Faith returns to his heart, and he wills himself to be strong. He can, he must, hold on. Help will arrive soon…and he will be safe. Even as his vision starts to darken and blur, he maintains this belief and keeps going. The figure in the water is seemingly giving him a sign of approval as he smiles and drinks down a cup of tea in salutation. How absurd! …Yet such is hope and its miraculous nature, and he is no longer afraid.
Let him fall…
When his eyes finally give away, his mind, too, begins to fade. The exhaustion has finally caught up to him, and his last breath, long as it has been, is at its final moments. It is then he feels a pair of hands grab hold of his submerged body and pull him toward the surface. It is then, with his body weakened and mind spent, the stranger fully loses his consciousness as he breaks through the water and inhales the Birchwood air once more, alive.
This was bound to happen.
So let it be.
~~~~ And there we have it---chapter 4! Time to write moar.
Oh, that's right, this is a Ninjago story.
Lit part, your story is so much more put together than mine.
He sees an old man seated among the murky depths, eyes closed and face partially covered by a conical hat. Long, white strands of beard stretch out all around the figure: an otherworldly presence somehow kept at ease despite the tempestuous ripples raging above, floating yet not floating. A teapot and worn staff hover around his unmoving body as he remains deep in meditation. The bizarre sight washes away all thoughts of danger, and he instantly forgets about his impending doom.
I know now— I know what to do this was bound to happen and there is no use-there is no use-there is no use— watch him slip watch him fall there is no use let him fall LET HIM FALL—
He looks on as the figure raises his head, the latter’s gentle, ancient eyes meeting his naïve, sensitive orbs. Signs of old age is all over the man’s withered face, where numerous wrinkles have overtaken his once youthful countenance. A slow, peaceful aura radiates from him and him only, calming the currents of the lake, calming his turbulent, hopeless soul, and he is left astonished and humbled.
He isn’t breathing, but time suddenly slows. His drawn out breath gives away little by little, yet he manages to hold on. Faith returns to his heart, and he wills himself to be strong. He can, he must, hold on. Help will arrive soon…and he will be safe. Even as his vision starts to darken and blur, he maintains this belief and keeps going. The figure in the water is seemingly giving him a sign of approval as he smiles and drinks down a cup of tea in salutation. How absurd! …Yet such is hope and its miraculous nature, and he is no longer afraid.
Let him fall…
When his eyes finally give away, his mind, too, begins to fade. The exhaustion has finally caught up to him, and his last breath, long as it has been, is at its final moments. It is then he feels a pair of hands grab hold of his submerged body and pull him toward the surface. It is then, with his body weakened and mind spent, the stranger fully loses his consciousness as he breaks through the water and inhales the Birchwood air once more, alive.
This was bound to happen.
So let it be.
~~~~ And there we have it---chapter 4! Time to write moar.
![[uni]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/mPKcREJAtrpeAXSOgaOH.png)
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
