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Fictional Writings of Elleander Grey


  • A workman and his craft gathered themselves at the harbor that night. The wind swept along the tide and the two knew each other with ease, they had existed for millions of years together, but every night a new experience was felt between the two. The water and the wind, the men and the women. The water wind combination provided the species with creativity and relaxation. It was too bad that the spark that had been felt by generation upon generation of humans provided by the beautiful creative power would cease to exist soon. Had they only known, maybe something could have been savored, or perhaps even saved if I could utter such a word under my breath. Eleander’s library was near the beach. The library was a sanctuary that allowed him peace, he could lose his mind in thoughts, hoping to never return again to his comfortable beach side bed. He could read all of his books in a single night without opening a page. He saw the crisp brightness in each page that turned in front of his thoughts, like a sunburst in Manilla amidst a crème of vanilla. His soul would float around his room wishing for it’s own consciousness. Elleander was like no other, he had the ability to reach past his social constructed thought process and possess something far greater. Elleander could make himself reach past his own thoughts, he could reach beyond himself with some effort at any point, a great effort that became harder and more physically straining with each possession. But the results would yield to him a mystery that stained his eyes with music that would sing to you. His eyes would flutter shut, roses would open themselves up to him in hope to share his beauty in their consciousness, Elleander could imagine their beautiful red from the smell that they teased him with, just like blonde, with her red velvet lips and her beautiful smell. His ears would turn themselves to face the moon and listen for the winds of the celestial times. He listened to the ancient sounds of the earth thought to have perished years ago, and it was right of him to do so. Before the fallover many of the men and women would look to the ancient’s and there books for hope, they would seek for songs that helped them pass the time in there time of fallover’s long past. But the results of the ancients methods no longer reported success. If things were to remain, which elleander of all people did not want, the fallover would conclude the entire race and it’s art, closing off the humanity residing in it’s own little box it claimed to own and call home, earth. Ah yes, earth, it had been the jewel of elleander’s eyes, you could almost see the water’s move when it wasn’t covered in clouds. The clouds were another feature of the fallover. They would whisp down in a second and take you to the stars if you weren’t careful to stay inside the comfortable cave you have always called home. They knew where you lived and didn’t live but may have decided to go to on any given day, it wasn’t a comfortable feeling, knowing that something was following you, watching you, pretending to be nothing more than a futile beauty taunting your perceptions. But it knew, where you were going, where you had been, it was just picking a time, to inconvenience you, bring you out of a world that existed as purgatory between two other earths. Earth’s that the ancients had known long before the fallover had begun. Elleander knew they all lived in shells, afraid to break what had been set before. His sadness overcame him, and he was slowly losing his skill, and his beauty. But I saw it in his eyes, his passion was still there, and the ocean waters of his eyes still reflected the power of the sun. It hurt me to see him as he hurt so much inside. If some simple mortal were to know his thoughts, he or she would surely die a sudden death and join a star as close to their physical body now resting in peace as possible. They could not exist inside him, nor he in they, his beauty overcame their dry, stagnate, and processed physical being. Not to say Elleander wasn’t affected by the world, or effected either, he had given into their weaknesses, but he still remained different, he established his own enlightenment. And I hoped to learn from him. “Do something good you fuck. You want to drink, then you want to piss. You want to eat, then you want to shit. Now you are full. So you want to fuck, then you want to sleep. Now you are restless, you are the kind of person that likes to do something ‘creative’, so you write something on a piece of paper with some color. They are notes, they are figures, they are everything you see and hear everyday. They are you, fucking and eating.” Elleander stopped talking to himself and dragged himself away from the mirror. So I’ll do something good. I’d have to think of it first. Got it. I’ll stop sinning so my conscience won’t trouble me. I’ll stop wasting my money on popcorn and porno magazines. I’ll call it charity. I’ll give everyone everything that they could want. Now, I have nothing. Nothing anyone could possibly want anymore. It feels good to do something good. Now I don’t want to drink, I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to fuck, and I don’t want to sleep. But I still want to create. And I’m not bored. “Blow. Blow. Blow yourself. Merrily, Merrily, . . Happily. . happily, life is just a dream.” Elleander sang himself to sleep.
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