He was sat in a location of the Desert, a dune to be precise, could be anywhere really; just another spot that looked identical to another in the Desert. Suns shone down, the flies hovered around the man, some settling onto him as if he were some space outpost on the edges of the deepest black for the ships to refuel. Those that really bothered the longhaired nomad, were swiped lazily by him, others were left alone. He looked up to the Suns, hand sheltering his eyes at the same time, as if it would help from the blinding glare. He closed his eyes in defence, smiling as if enjoying the pain that his eyes felt.
From his Pocket he brought out an old leather book, where once was writing upon the front, only an impression was left from the lettering that had worn off. He smiled at the cover, wiping the front of it, rose it to his face to hug it, a tear ran down from his closed eyes, smoothing the cracks in his skin on its way down the contours of his jaw. He smiled to it and sniffed. He remembered when his brother had given it to him so many Years back, how he had scoffed at the present, a book devoid of any prose, to be filled somehow by his. Opening it slowly, he read the words he had written in the past up till the present. So many pages were left, and so little precious time to fill it, so precious little to say to make sense of his existence. So much guilt for what he could never work out.
He put it away back in his pocket, took out a PDA device from his backpack and began to write, not knowing what his mind wanted to say…
Maybe this is my confession, maybe a cry for help, or maybe something Id like to say for those who maybe want to hear my voice, albeit in this scrawled form on the grid screen ya see here. Does it even matter? Probably not; I’ve met many others with tales far more interesting and heartbreaking, although I never revealed it to them. I was always too busy with my own story, always to focused, when I should have seen wide.
I was always to believe, to be confident and ta be positive, I even remember my Brother parading about after seeing something on the Grid Channel ‘Lifestyles’; he walked up to me, head raised up, standing so tall as to be arched back on tip toes… (Pauses to laugh as tears fall ) …He whipped his red stripy face to me as if he were a model, and said, ‘Tall strong, and sexy!’.. (Laughs out shaking his head, more tears flow). Stupid ass guy, but he made me laugh a lot back then, before Mum died.
He had to stop and put the PDA down, for he was crying again, had to hold his head in his hands till the sobbing passed. He didn’t bother to wipe the tears or his nose, no one was here to even see it, he looked pathetic, like a baby although a grown man. He stopped after a few minutes, and picked up the PDA to continue.
I’ve Digressed, I’m sure that’s the word for it? I don’t know how to write, or where to start? Maybe the end is the best place eh? Well as my council here have no clue; what do I pay em for? I guess that’s the best place as any. Some might remember a silly guy who liked to recite his poems? Well I do at least, as he was me. I was never an artisan, or ever thought Id have the gall to shout it out, I’m guessing desperate measures has that effect on some perhaps? Siting here now, I don’t even know what the measures were, or why I did as I did? I can’t blame it on pregnancy, as I never met the right lady heh.
Anyway I digress yet again, although I’ll be damned if I know what from. I don’t know why Im writing this now, or why I have been so silent in general when there are many I care for and respected, some never returning it; admittedly with no justification for its return in truth. But really that’s not why I write this, well not in its entirety. Don’t get me wrong Dude’s and Dudette’s, some of you were… (he lifts his head up and taps his lips with the PDA pen device in thought). Polite enough to talk and to believe in me to some degree.
I’m still none the wiser to what to say?.. (Cries again and stops what he has to say, whatever that was or will be and drops the PDA)….
((WATCH FOR FURTHER STORIES OF HE.))
