The Stories and Glories of Stone's Shortage (Full Version)

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Mister Stone -> The Stories and Glories of Stone's Shortage (11/5/2012 8:16:25)

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Visiting





Oh.

Oh!

Ho and lo! Fellow chap! Ruddy bud! Kindly chum! Pardon the mess, pardon it, I apologize. The Visored Folk here are simply dreadful at the clean-up. Simply dreadful. But blimey, how’ve you been! Been a bit, eh? Almost thought you forgot about little ‘ol me! You surprise me! I always thought you were of the hemophobic sort.



Ha! I merely just. But look! The window! Right there. I can see the clouds from there sometimes, ya know. When I’m here, all by myself, sometimes I try my hand at the forecasting! And today…is a good day it is! Look at the shade of the clouds! Fancy the grey, eh chap? Better than white, that's for sure! White is such a lifeless color, don’t you think? It's so…plain and regular. And filling. And dank. And void. And colorless. And—



Hey! Why are you so shy? Come right in! I’mma chatterboxin’ it away and you’re standing by the doorway? Disgraceful! Did your mother teach you no better? In in in! Come on! The Visored Folk won’t impede your way! I had wanted to share with my chap some private tellings, if you no mind. …See? Come on, now! And ruddy close the door! Good, good. That’s the spirit! I fancy I won’t bite you much. Ha ha! Closer…closer…there! Now sit with your ‘ol pal! Come! What’s the query? Look at me! Does it look as if I can harm you anymore.



Of course not, silly! Now hear: do you recall Lee Anne—another one of our companions? Have you seen her lately? Is she still dead. Hmph! It’s a conundrum that I’ve conjured in my wee ‘ol brain for quite a bit, now. I wonder, and then I wonder still, if her own demise was permanent. …But listen! See! There! In that window! When I’m all alone, sometimes…suspicious things appear in the reflections…a flash of skin, a flit of hair, some whites of eyes. It’s so unsettling! Had Lee Anne stage her condition to burden mine self faulty.



Listen still! Of course I have pitied myself a number of times and told others that it was merely an impulse—a tragedy at that—but I am starting to believe that IIII was the one duked! While IIII am delving in the most hideous of remorse, I still wonder, and then I wonder still, if my once grand chap is laughing at me! For I am no fool! IIII am enlightened! I see the cards! And they are treasonous indeed! My once comrade has turned against me! But you, you kind friend can give me the truth plain, and then, then you can deal with such the lecherous, scoundrel she is—

With death. This white—this SKIN—it’s—

There. She’s there—so WHITE. She’s moving and shifting with her darkened hair. I see you Lee Anne, my friend. I have always seen you, dear Lee Anne. And I have seen that you have not died, as well. But rest assured, dear Lee Anne, that I will have seen to that you will, and that your corpse will scream with such a delicious agony. I will color your hideous white with such a pouring blood that will spill from your—






Oh.

I was right.

It is raining.

I love rain.




Mister Stone -> RE: The Stories and Glories of Stone's Shortage (11/6/2012 19:40:29)

Wither



Leaf was perched atop Maple’s Protection, growing ever so gradually, with the Leaf’s brothers alongside of the Leaf, ornamenting the trees with a serene, radiant beauty.

It was autumn. Such a gorgeous season it was, but so dismal a time as well. The Leaves fall from the Protection of the Maples and the Oaks and the Everest, and are replaced by younglings soon thereafter before the wintertime. Then they are forgotten. The Leaves are washed to shore following the rainy current, or collected in clusters by the Persons, who confine the Leaves into bags and bins.

It was windy out. Gusty. The roar of the wind was deafening, and the air twisted indefinitely. Falling Leaves ‘round the trees were still rustling amidst the breeze. Bounded Leaves latched helplessly to their Protection, desperately fighting against the rushing gust of air, a sliver of a stem supporting them.

A Leaf was uprooted from its Protection, its will sapped completely.

The wind stopped. Leaves in flight levitated above the ground in defiance, but the Leaves had already fallen.

The Maple seems so tall, thought a Leaf. So vast does the Heavens above me look now that my stem has been grounded so.

Then the thoughts of this Leaf went grave. I have lost my Protection and my home, the Leaf realized. What am I to do? Am I to be eaten by the woodland animals? Will I be buried in the winter snow? Will the Persons come to pave me and my other fallen brethren?

The Leaf lay grounded into the open land, laying there with Leaves that have also fallen. The Leaf was frightened, but concerned for the safety of itself and of its kin. Leaf prayed and called upon the Sun above itself to perhaps ease its weariness.

The Sun appeared, and peeked into the clouds and beyond, obscuring the Maple from which the Leaf had fallen from and looked upon the Leaf. What is your bidding, Stem, said the Sun, its thunderous voice rattling the ground the Leaf was now forever entwined to.

My Sun, cried the Leaf, please. Grow me into an Everest or a Maple or any of the Protection surrounding us, so that I may live on as a harvester of my own fruit, and have my own Leaves to Protect.

The Sun looked despairingly at the pleading Leaf. I cannot, Sapling, Sun said. You are dead, Leaf; you can no longer grow nor develop. I am unable to revive the grounded, only nurture the living. Look towards the Sky to carry you through your plight, and give you the freedom Protection has taken from you.

The Sun’s form veiled itself behind the clouds. And Leaf now called upon Sky, in desperation. The delicate form of Sky wisped behind the Maple and carried Leaf into its arms inward towards itself to be spoken to.

Leaf hovered directly beneath the clouds and above the Maple of which it had fallen. What is it that makes you forlorn so, little Leaf? Said the Sky, calm and gentle.

Leaf pleaded to the Sky, frantic and fearful: My Sky, cried the Leaf, please. With your winds and skill could you guide me beyond the forest and the land and the tree? Take me on a path over the oceans and into the clouds over the cities and the heads of the Persons.

The Sky looked reluctantly at the pleading Leaf. Indeed, Seedling, I am able to carry you on my endless flight, but I fear that I should not, for the sake of your own. The winds get harsher and vastly hectic; I may chip off your stems by bits, or drop you into the forsaken sea. You are merely a Leaf, I’m afraid, you require Protection. Look towards the Heavens, fragile Seedling, so that He may give you a new Protection.

The Sky released the Leaf from its hold, leaving it to float gradually back to the land.

The Leaf, so forlorn, looked to the Heavens above and called to the Great Person that stood beyond the clouds.

Then the Person surfaced, its form covering all of the sky and all of the Protection and all that was to be seen except itself. He was the largest of the Persons in the forest, and the most grand. This Great Person towered over the leaf like a colossus, and dropped its vision to the grounded and fragile Leaf. What is it that you desire, my Child? said the Person.

The Leaf was doubtful, but clean out of options. Great Person, plead the Leaf, should thee take myself into your Heavens, so that I may live out my life in full? Can thou lead me into its own Protection, so that I may grow and one day become something of grand?

The Great Person bent its own knee so it could grab the Leaf and hold it into its palm. Then the Person’s brow had furrowed, and He shook His head. Nay, perhaps I should, and yes, indeed I could take you into my realm, but I will not, my Child.

The Leaf was aghast. But what, then, is to become of me, Person? Am I to wither until I am merely just traces in the soil? Am I to fade into oblivion with the other Fallen that have come before?

But the Person shook his head once again. Not into oblivion, my Child, but into being. Your presence in this life will combine with nature, but your being into my realm will realize itself within your passing. I do not have to bring you into my domain; for you will already soon be there, as your own Protection.




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