Heers wut ya git!

Pull up a seat and read a little. If you are from WV you are probably like me and have never learned to read so get someone to read it to you. I'm Skully, my friend Mike listens to me and translates my words from Hickglish to English. He is familiar with the ways of folks from other areas, and can communicate readily with the general populace.
(Fetch ya a char an lisen ta wuts heer. If’n yer frum West Verginua yu r proly lak me an ain’t had no reedin ejukashun so git sumbudy to reed it to ya. I’m Skully, ma frend Mak lisens ta mee an translates ma werds frum normul to wut them thar hi falootin peepole talks. He nows how to talk to outciders an can speek thar langwige.)

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

The Evil That Protects

The Evil That Protects
Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Attacking!! That describes it best. More and more pouring ever onward until little room is left. A sea! An ocean! A torrent beating down upon what was once so pure and unspoiled. Existence itself is gradually threatened by the tumult. Mighty hammers seem to beat huge anvils in a chorus of destruction and creation and as the murderous pace slows to a crawl there is still the will to continue. An all pervading will to arrive at the utter destruction of the now fading purity.

The brow sweats, the fingers twitch and grasp in the empty air for more raw material to transform into the demise of the unspoiled expanse! The purity as set before the onslaught has a protector, a counter-foe and to horror and dismay it is unseen but it’s presence is keenly felt! It is blankness, a nothing that is endless in size and weight. It is both existent and non-existent at once. The spectral force tormenting and beating down the aggressor until at last the outpouring ceases completely! Time moves slowly as if only the nothing is sentient and all else simply it’s imagined playthings. Shriek to the heavens, WHY! Why cannot the destruction flourish in the glory of simply being?

The destruction of the purity of paper with text has long been the goal of a great many writers, poets and musicians. There is however a stout foe of this practice that can kill and maim the conveyance of thoughts at any moment without preamble or warning. Writers block is the general and accepted term for this evil that protects the purity of the paper from the ravages of the pen. I seem to have emerged victorious in this minute battle as it was my intent to fill only one page and the required time was that of a cup of tea.

I look forward to my next grapple with this most worthy and often hellish foe. Perhaps one day the nothingness will be defeated and the ideas of many will flourish to be seen and reveled in by the masses. Only time will tell, and perhaps another cup of tea.

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