Friday, 05 March 2010 06:36
Eric Gragsone
Another aftershock rumbles through the house, it feels like the real thing. My dad says we're suppose to expect this for the next few days. Knowing doesn't make them any less frightening.
The big hit happened a few days ago, we were lucky being on a farm away from the city, least our house is mostly standing. The city did not do so well. So many dead. So much destruction everywhere. People fighting to get food.
The earth opened up large cuts through our fields, dad lets me go out and look at them whenever there is nothing for me to carry. They look like they could go down forever, I wonder if there is even a bottom. Foam bubbles up in the larger cracks, dad warns me not to touch it.
Another aftershock, dad looks scared. Everyone has stopped what they're doing and taking cover. The ground ripples like water beneath us. I'm not sure what makes this aftershock different than the others. I run to my dad for safety.
I ask him whats wrong. He says he's not sure. He holds me even closer. I ask him why he's worried. He says the aftershocks are too soon together. Another one hits, it feels closer.
Others say the house is no longer safe, and we begin to carefully exit and go out to the open fields where the large cracks are. Another aftershock hits as I hold my dad's hand. I look behind me see it. I've never seen an earthquake before. It looks bigger than anything I've ever seen before, trying to climb out of the cracks. All I see are large arms and steam. I yank on my dad's arm trying to get his attention.
The earthquake screams. Everyone stops.
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Thursday, 19 November 2009 10:24
Eric Gragsone
It's unusual to see a room boarded shut in an otherwise modern and normal looking suburban home. However you cannot destroy a room, nor sell the house when the entire neighborhood whispers of the events that had occurred there five years ago. It had started seemingly innocent as normal tales of children go. Their daughter, eight at the time, simply had an overactive imagination. That was all, something everyone has experienced and matured out of. A phase where our minds projects its fears of the unknown onto otherwise innocent images.
Last Updated on Friday, 20 November 2009 02:08
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Thursday, 29 October 2009 03:26
Eric Gragsone
Ugg, I hate waking up. Though the stillness of sleep gives the mere appearance of death. Nothing makes me feel closer to its cold embrace than the pain of being ripped from my lucid dreams and peaceful slumber. Undisturbed I could dream for eons, awakening only to devour some nearby creature and quickly return to my hibernation. It has been some time since I've was able to complete a dream. Again, the familiar presence calls out to me, not with the terrified screams of her predecessors, but a luring call, so soft that its gentle tug feels like the current.
I know not how her kind came to discover me, as the quick suffocation of their first offerings proved they were unable to breath even in the shallowest of waters. Perhaps they evolved from things I prayed upon many dreams ago, or the descendants of my own children, yet lacking the resemblance of either. Her call continues without pause and I have no doubt she could sustain it long after the Sun rises. No sense in waiting, I should go and begin this rather pleasant ritual so that I may sleep once again.
Last Updated on Saturday, 31 October 2009 01:20
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Monday, 24 August 2009 23:26
Eric Gragsone
Thirty-three.
Life doesn't flash in front of your eyes as you face death. Those who say that are typically survivors, survivors who would prefer to forget the experience of looking at death. Luckily for them, they escaped their fate, usually as a result of dumb luck. Only after realizing that you've survived does your life flash before you in one quick blur. However, before that moment your vision is locked on death's uncompassionate stare like deer caught in the headlights. Not in a mere flash, but in agonizing slow motion you see what awaits you with crystal vision.
Bob won't see his life flash before him because he won't survive. He can't, and this is truly the most terrifying revelation every man goes through, finding out that not everything can be conquered. Man's arrogance isn't limited to external factors. He will battle his own failing body in the hope of eking out another fraction of existence that is, itself, insignificant, like a fruit fly focusing all its efforts on a mere additional hour of life. Luckily for Bob, the possibility of a fight has been removed and all he can simply do is ride his way down.
Last Updated on Saturday, 31 October 2009 01:20
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Monday, 09 February 2009 03:44
Eric Gragsone
Message in a Bottle
by Eric Gragsone
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 United States License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/us/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.
I know now the source of the world's monsters, the fire breathing dragon, the giants of antiquity, the sea serpents, the bogey, the little gray men, even the god of brimstone and fire. These often repeated tales are just fragments of the truth, as man is forced to describe the fantastical with the understood mundane. This realm, my home of exile, will always be untranslatable to the mundane. Even as I myself venture there, I cannot describe my vision beyond the vague.
Last Updated on Wednesday, 13 May 2009 12:00
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