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Fictional Writings of Elleander Grey


  • Elleander was in the park. He was also reading on his bed at home. He grabbed for a cigarette in the park and a cup of water on his bedside stool at home. His eyes turned the pages in his mind and he inhaled his last breath of the cigarette to his lips. He finished his book and went back to walking in the park. While he was walking he took a short nap and slid down the pathway to a crisper view of the city. Several birds flew over him and crossed upon the sea. The mercury waves reflected the sun onto the undersides of the wings of the birds. They were suddenly flakes of gold fluttering above the constant movement of the sea. Elleander was one of them. His mind painted the scene to another book he was reading at home. In one room he was sleeping. In the other he was nodding his head to the sound of a symphony composed for only him. His sadness rushed back to him and pushed him into a park bench. His symphony was playing for millions. But he was the only one that heard it. The birds were gone. He cried. The whole point of making something someone once told me was the ability to make it. I also was told that I shouldn’t listen to what people had said to me. Instead, simply tell them to write it down what they wanted to say so much and clear their mind on to a piece of paper and no longer infect me with their poison. So I am constantly fighting my self inside. My brain and heart pulse together and I can’t do anything clear anymore. My focus and passion are remaining. But they simply get tired and put me to sleep where I can dream of all my thoughts instead of thinking them. What I love about dreams so much is that they allow me to forget everything that poisoned me along the way. My construction is bypassed by some circuitry fault that was included with me when I was born. It’s a marvelous thing, being born. So I’m going to tell you this. I will be my own audience for the rest of my life. So, I don’t know why I’m not clapping for myself constantly. Instead I play laugh tracks and sounds of crickets at night. In this way I can scare myself so much that I eat my whole inside and show everyone what reflects off of what’s left. This happens to be nothing. Wool will keep you warm. You see? You can read this and get nothing from it. Or perhaps at most say, “hmm, I know what he means.” But you don’t. I don’t even know what I mean. That is what leads me to believe from now until never, I will be my own worldly retrospect. My own casket and bag. My wholesome follower and trusted employee. I’ll clench up my jaw and scream to my teeth, they will respond more honestly than a few minds made from clay. I don’t want to be clay you see. And I know not many people do. But they are, and this is where the loathing begins. I loathed once. I still loathe. It’s a pity you can not pull yourself out of. Others can though. They can do it for you so effortlessly. I wish I could do things effortlessly. Elleander walked through the city pointing his finger at people randomly as they passed by on the sidewalk. “Not you. Not you. Not you.” He amused himself for a few minutes in this fasion. Follow me into a garden for a second. I want to tell you all my beautiful secrets. The garden is full of life here. The wind is massaging my hair and the scent of the flora is making my brain sing to my ears. In the garden there is no gate. In fact the garden never ends. It dreams and loops until you are tired and wish to sleep. When you sleep you are hearing my thoughts and visions as they come to me without the other useless circuitry that has been constructed for the better part of a life. I mean you see another something very purely and simply. So simple that you cannot fathom it, even with all of your complex wired circuitry. But it will melt away, and you will find a connection to what I mean.
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