The Voices in my HeadThe Cleaning Crew
December 27th 2006 22:53
Rain washes over this place in a torrent of violent anger. At first there is mud. Filthy, thick, black mud clinging to everything. The bottom of your shoes, the cuffs of your pantleg, to tires, and cars. Cars idle on the side of the road, spinning their tires, going nowhere. There is no one to call for help. The powerlines are down.
Broken limbs from giant trees litter the ground. When you aren't stepping in mud, you are tripping over limbs and landing hands down in the mud. You wipe the mud on your shirt, the sleeve of your coat. Going anywhere seems to be hopeless. Wherever you go, mud is found.
The black sky is ominous, frightening in its anger.
Somewhere, in the distance, the chirping of a bird can be heard. It is a light sound, almost like the tinkling of rain on tin.
Looking up, into the trees, amidst the half-snapped branches, the shredded leaves, the sun shines.
Bright.
Warm.
Healing.
With eyes closed, a smile breaks. In the depth of the darkness and mud and need for clearing away the broken limbs, the whiteness and brilliance of a smile is found.
Another person stands behind the tree, clearing branches and limbs from the pathway. The sun cannot be seen from that angle...but the smile can.
They smile.
Another person down the way clearing a pile of mud out of the walkway sees the smile of the person behind the tree. It looks so out of place...funny almost.
They smile.
A car slowly pulls along the road. The driver and passengers can see the entire scene from the road. Against better judgement, they slow the car down, then pull to a stop. The mud and branches and powerlines are still down and can still be seen. They are curious about the people working to clear it.
It seems like a hopeless situation.
Why are they bothering?
Why do they care? Their cars are all lined up along the pavement of the highway. They can leave at any time. Why are they helping those stuck in the mud? Why were they smiling as they were knee deep in mud?
The driver is confused. They were smiling like they were having a great time. How could they be? It was chaos as far as the eye could see. He gets out of his car and walks gingerly through the mud to the person closest to the road, a (b)logger, who is clearing some sticks and large rocks that had slid down from the hill behind him in the storm..
"What are you all doing?" He asked.
"We had a massive storm. We are clearing the way for people to get through," the (b)logger said.
"Why?"
"This is a community, it's what we do." the (b)logger shrugged.
Broken limbs from giant trees litter the ground. When you aren't stepping in mud, you are tripping over limbs and landing hands down in the mud. You wipe the mud on your shirt, the sleeve of your coat. Going anywhere seems to be hopeless. Wherever you go, mud is found.
The black sky is ominous, frightening in its anger.
Somewhere, in the distance, the chirping of a bird can be heard. It is a light sound, almost like the tinkling of rain on tin.
Looking up, into the trees, amidst the half-snapped branches, the shredded leaves, the sun shines.
Bright.
Warm.
Healing.
With eyes closed, a smile breaks. In the depth of the darkness and mud and need for clearing away the broken limbs, the whiteness and brilliance of a smile is found.
Another person stands behind the tree, clearing branches and limbs from the pathway. The sun cannot be seen from that angle...but the smile can.
They smile.
Another person down the way clearing a pile of mud out of the walkway sees the smile of the person behind the tree. It looks so out of place...funny almost.
They smile.
A car slowly pulls along the road. The driver and passengers can see the entire scene from the road. Against better judgement, they slow the car down, then pull to a stop. The mud and branches and powerlines are still down and can still be seen. They are curious about the people working to clear it.
It seems like a hopeless situation.
Why are they bothering?
Why do they care? Their cars are all lined up along the pavement of the highway. They can leave at any time. Why are they helping those stuck in the mud? Why were they smiling as they were knee deep in mud?
The driver is confused. They were smiling like they were having a great time. How could they be? It was chaos as far as the eye could see. He gets out of his car and walks gingerly through the mud to the person closest to the road, a (b)logger, who is clearing some sticks and large rocks that had slid down from the hill behind him in the storm..
"What are you all doing?" He asked.
"We had a massive storm. We are clearing the way for people to get through," the (b)logger said.
"Why?"
"This is a community, it's what we do." the (b)logger shrugged.
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Comment by Ash
Australian Traveller
Flashes of memories
Ash
Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
You smile, too! It's lovely. *smile*
*smile*
*Smile*
Come back,
Voices~
Comment by Ash
Australian Traveller
Flashes of memories
Smiles mean so much!
Come 'round to the party! - we are enjoying a few nights of 2006 before our slates get wiped clean again.
I smile all the time, in fact I Laugh all the time too...laughter is what the world wants to hear!
Have a laughter-filled day
Ash