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The Night Slowly Came
#WritcoStoryPrompt45
Write a story based on this famous excerpt from The Night Slowly Came by Kate Chopin:
I am losing my interest in human beings; in the significance of their lives and their actions. Someone has said it is better to study one man than ten books. I want neither books nor men; they make me suffer…
... Watching how they insistently squabble over things that should be available to all. Thinking, somehow... No, Indoctrinated to believe they need these things to better themselves and their lives, when in fact, they are killing them.
Oh, how naive is the human spirit because of it's own self awareness being manipulated to serve something other than itself.
Whether it be good or bad, there is only two ways to look at it...
We are either Evil or Righteous.
There is no grey area. To be without empathy or regard for life when it is taken away, is an
evil by it's own standard. To stand and witness horrible things being done, but to remain the silent observer with no interaction,
makes one an accomplice to the crime.
They will grumble when things get worse, oh yes! They will complain. Although their own self inflicted oppression cuts deep into their souls, they will not rise up against it.
Fear can be a debilitating thing.
It's negative affects are timeless and powerful changing the very course of humanity, science, religion, philosophy, and mental evolution itself.
Like beautiful birds in tropical
forests so full of life, and with great potential, it is squandered by the parroting of propaganda.
The everflow of ignorance that
drains into the cess pool of human thought, We have become stagnant.
Pseudo intellectual's with nothing
smart to say. Big words used to confuse the masses, because the definitions keep changing according to those that suppress and devide.
Repeat the lie enough, and people will fall for it. - Adolph Hitler.
So here I am again, drinking
up my own self loathing, wishing a comet would just end it all.
The Night Slowly Came Upon
Me, as I wrapped myself in an
old quilt my passing mother had given me. I remember how death took her. Her slowly rotting form, rittled away by cancer, and
the life slowly squeezed from her lungs as she gasped for air like a fish out of water.
Which brings me to more memories of loss, like when my
favorite dog was run over by a careless driver and his lifeless body smeared hundreds of feet down the road. It took what seemed like forever to pick up the pieces of flesh and bring it all together to where my dogs corpse was as tears streamed down my face.
I remember a little boy staring out the window of a passing car, as our eyes locked for one split second and I suddenly knew, deep inside of me that he was a
victim of child abuse.
Eyes are the windows to the soul, they say. I find this to be more true than most things you hear.
There are people I have looked at, where all you could see was darkness in the pupils of their eyes. Look to long, and it sends shivers down your spine, as your senses tell you, you are seeing evil in it's purest form.
Which reminds me of the scar
I still carry from when I tried to intervene in a domestic abuse situation where an intoxicated man was beating the hell out of his significant other.
When I pulled the guy off of her, and was wrestling with him on the ground, the crazy bitch stuck a butchers knife in my back.
The area of the injury hurts a little when it gets cold outside.
Just a reminder, to mind my own business.
I sit and ponder this course of action I had taken. If I had let him keep beating on that woman, he might of killed her. I never understood her motive to stab me, when I was trying to protect her.
It seems we are on a downward spiral to, only God knows where.
Somehow, it seems unfair to punish a species for adapting to it's environment. Unfortunately, our environment is hostile and deadly.
Action, reaction. Cause and affect, and this Aged Scotch has
affected me to the point where I must relieve myself and retire.
The disappointment mixed with alcohol has broken my spirit for the night, and now all I want to do is sleep. Sleep to escape. Escape the constant struggle of our own humanity.
I raise my glass to Humanity, and say out loud, 'Here's To Ya', as I
gulp down the last swallow of the now warm Scotch.
Shake it off...
Just like life's attacks.
Tomorrow is a new day.
© Michael W. Taylor
Write a story based on this famous excerpt from The Night Slowly Came by Kate Chopin:
I am losing my interest in human beings; in the significance of their lives and their actions. Someone has said it is better to study one man than ten books. I want neither books nor men; they make me suffer…
... Watching how they insistently squabble over things that should be available to all. Thinking, somehow... No, Indoctrinated to believe they need these things to better themselves and their lives, when in fact, they are killing them.
Oh, how naive is the human spirit because of it's own self awareness being manipulated to serve something other than itself.
Whether it be good or bad, there is only two ways to look at it...
We are either Evil or Righteous.
There is no grey area. To be without empathy or regard for life when it is taken away, is an
evil by it's own standard. To stand and witness horrible things being done, but to remain the silent observer with no interaction,
makes one an accomplice to the crime.
They will grumble when things get worse, oh yes! They will complain. Although their own self inflicted oppression cuts deep into their souls, they will not rise up against it.
Fear can be a debilitating thing.
It's negative affects are timeless and powerful changing the very course of humanity, science, religion, philosophy, and mental evolution itself.
Like beautiful birds in tropical
forests so full of life, and with great potential, it is squandered by the parroting of propaganda.
The everflow of ignorance that
drains into the cess pool of human thought, We have become stagnant.
Pseudo intellectual's with nothing
smart to say. Big words used to confuse the masses, because the definitions keep changing according to those that suppress and devide.
Repeat the lie enough, and people will fall for it. - Adolph Hitler.
So here I am again, drinking
up my own self loathing, wishing a comet would just end it all.
The Night Slowly Came Upon
Me, as I wrapped myself in an
old quilt my passing mother had given me. I remember how death took her. Her slowly rotting form, rittled away by cancer, and
the life slowly squeezed from her lungs as she gasped for air like a fish out of water.
Which brings me to more memories of loss, like when my
favorite dog was run over by a careless driver and his lifeless body smeared hundreds of feet down the road. It took what seemed like forever to pick up the pieces of flesh and bring it all together to where my dogs corpse was as tears streamed down my face.
I remember a little boy staring out the window of a passing car, as our eyes locked for one split second and I suddenly knew, deep inside of me that he was a
victim of child abuse.
Eyes are the windows to the soul, they say. I find this to be more true than most things you hear.
There are people I have looked at, where all you could see was darkness in the pupils of their eyes. Look to long, and it sends shivers down your spine, as your senses tell you, you are seeing evil in it's purest form.
Which reminds me of the scar
I still carry from when I tried to intervene in a domestic abuse situation where an intoxicated man was beating the hell out of his significant other.
When I pulled the guy off of her, and was wrestling with him on the ground, the crazy bitch stuck a butchers knife in my back.
The area of the injury hurts a little when it gets cold outside.
Just a reminder, to mind my own business.
I sit and ponder this course of action I had taken. If I had let him keep beating on that woman, he might of killed her. I never understood her motive to stab me, when I was trying to protect her.
It seems we are on a downward spiral to, only God knows where.
Somehow, it seems unfair to punish a species for adapting to it's environment. Unfortunately, our environment is hostile and deadly.
Action, reaction. Cause and affect, and this Aged Scotch has
affected me to the point where I must relieve myself and retire.
The disappointment mixed with alcohol has broken my spirit for the night, and now all I want to do is sleep. Sleep to escape. Escape the constant struggle of our own humanity.
I raise my glass to Humanity, and say out loud, 'Here's To Ya', as I
gulp down the last swallow of the now warm Scotch.
Shake it off...
Just like life's attacks.
Tomorrow is a new day.
© Michael W. Taylor
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