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"SSC32 - The Lone Walker"

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Wed 14/09/05 at 18:21
"Retarded List"
Posts: 642
Nobody was even aware of what came. All at once, the thunder of vehicles, the buzz of conversation, the laughter, the weeping, all grew silent. Emptiness. Now I walk through the streets. I roam across the rolling hills. I stagger over the scorching desert. I walk alone.

I watch the sun beat down on the peaceful land. I see the wind ripple the tall swathes of grass. I hear the trees creak and whisper in their own secret language. I stand and await the thundering cascade of deep water, as it crashes over the rocks, sending out a fine mist of spray. On the lone wind I hear the lost sounds of the children, running over the path of rocks across the furious river. The sun, shines through the overhanging canopy of old trees, and sends beams light down into the murky depths. No more does it shine on their young bodies.

I walk down the long, straight road of stifling black tarmac, and listen for the silenced sounds of the speeding motorist. The grating laughter that issued from the sunroof of the dark-blue car. The old-time songs, which crackled out of the radio, singing of love lost. The dignified chime of the bell, sitting atop the chrome bars of the bike; accompanied by a quiet turning of the wheels. Now, the wind travels by undisturbed.

I weave my way through the barren, narrow streets of the town, listening for the swarm of shoppers. The sweltering confines of the traffic-jam in the rush hour. Yet all that remains now is a lone wind playing idly with a single sheet of newspaper. The strict linearity of the streets criss-cross silently.

As I pass the expansive building that once taught so many. The muffled whispers in the classroom. The high-pitched screeches in the playground as the young ones played. ‘Ring a-ring a roses, a pocket full of posies, a-tissue, a-tissue, we all… fall… down.’ The scream of delight now fades away with the wind into the past.

A small pool of water ripples silently in a pothole in the middle of the road leading out beyond the town. I pass over it and glance down at my image reflected back at me. I gaze emotionlessly at the dark hood that shields my featureless face. I look away at my feet that leave no footprints. And I stare back into the water, at the reflection of my scythe. Whose steel head beaks gently, as I wander across the empty land.
Fri 23/09/05 at 23:08
Regular
"relocated"
Posts: 2,833
Liked this one very much. A terrific ending. Like Black Glove I find the GR funny rather than scary (blame Bill, Ted and Terry Pratchett) but I still liked the image - it was quite touching. Poor ickle skeleton.
Thu 22/09/05 at 21:51
Regular
"not dead"
Posts: 11,145
I really liked the ending. I thought it was a nice twist on the lone survivor theme. The build up is good too, well imagined desertion.
Thu 22/09/05 at 12:06
Regular
"Going nowhere fast"
Posts: 6,574
Not sure about this. Seemed to begin okay with the descriptions and all but I thought it tended towards sole survivor not the Grim Reaper. Plus I didn't enjoy the fact that it just ended without hints as to what happened.

I prefer to think about it as the Grim Reaper has gone insane and over culled the population but then the tale would lean towards comedy as opposed to description.
Sat 17/09/05 at 14:32
Regular
"Laughingstock"
Posts: 3,522
Quite liked this. Some of the descriptions were quietly effective. I'm unsure about the ending. On one hand I like it; on the other hand, I always find the image of the "G.R." funny, so I was left amused at the end. Maybe that's my fault and not yours...
Wed 14/09/05 at 18:21
"Retarded List"
Posts: 642
Nobody was even aware of what came. All at once, the thunder of vehicles, the buzz of conversation, the laughter, the weeping, all grew silent. Emptiness. Now I walk through the streets. I roam across the rolling hills. I stagger over the scorching desert. I walk alone.

I watch the sun beat down on the peaceful land. I see the wind ripple the tall swathes of grass. I hear the trees creak and whisper in their own secret language. I stand and await the thundering cascade of deep water, as it crashes over the rocks, sending out a fine mist of spray. On the lone wind I hear the lost sounds of the children, running over the path of rocks across the furious river. The sun, shines through the overhanging canopy of old trees, and sends beams light down into the murky depths. No more does it shine on their young bodies.

I walk down the long, straight road of stifling black tarmac, and listen for the silenced sounds of the speeding motorist. The grating laughter that issued from the sunroof of the dark-blue car. The old-time songs, which crackled out of the radio, singing of love lost. The dignified chime of the bell, sitting atop the chrome bars of the bike; accompanied by a quiet turning of the wheels. Now, the wind travels by undisturbed.

I weave my way through the barren, narrow streets of the town, listening for the swarm of shoppers. The sweltering confines of the traffic-jam in the rush hour. Yet all that remains now is a lone wind playing idly with a single sheet of newspaper. The strict linearity of the streets criss-cross silently.

As I pass the expansive building that once taught so many. The muffled whispers in the classroom. The high-pitched screeches in the playground as the young ones played. ‘Ring a-ring a roses, a pocket full of posies, a-tissue, a-tissue, we all… fall… down.’ The scream of delight now fades away with the wind into the past.

A small pool of water ripples silently in a pothole in the middle of the road leading out beyond the town. I pass over it and glance down at my image reflected back at me. I gaze emotionlessly at the dark hood that shields my featureless face. I look away at my feet that leave no footprints. And I stare back into the water, at the reflection of my scythe. Whose steel head beaks gently, as I wander across the empty land.

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