Slowly, there is change, morphing from the crusted earth that had grown into the body, fusing with every nerve like roots seeking water. The agony of this transformation lasts for one thousand seasons with images of another life haunting, dashing hopes with faint desire. I have been swallowed whole and left only with regret for a forgotten oath. I can feel the mourning of gnarled hands on foreign soil, stretched out across the landscape, as voices scream for justice. The screams, full of terror, have left something foul to rot and it is now seeping into my space. An ancient blood surges through my veins, forming flesh, forcing me into something I had not known before.
Published by darren thompson
hello invisible people, I have lived well and continue to live well enough. I hope the same for you. Writing during a pandemic with catastrophic wildfires, hurricanes, economic collapse, political strife, and toxic air means one tends to be pretty sedentary. I am reminded of our last trip to Cartagena, Colombia and the gang of sloths hanging out in the trees. Funny, I don't think sloths are ever behind schedule though. The book, FALLEN, is near completion. I know I've said this before, but I am definitely in the final lap with it. Though, I have not settled on the publishing or marketing of it, yet. I am not even sure how I will use this website. Admittedly, I've been writing on this bit for the better part of ten years. My mind has been wrapped around some weird urban sci-fi-fantasy junk. Feels like a twisted premonition of what is happening today. On another creative front, I am setting up a new website called: vomitpages.com which I am kind of excited about. These are writings and ramblings and musings of life when I am out of the flow with writer's block. There projects within projects there. Oh, I live in the Columbia River Gorge of the PACIFIC NORTHWEST. My characters are way more interesting. thanks. View more posts