my story:
...The crickets would sound their anticipated, flowing music with an unmatched grace and ease; the sluggish brook would eschew the gently flowing water down to the miniature waterfall and into the motionless lake, where the sparrows would chirp with an unsurpassed elegance, each one exclaiming to the world, “I am God’s creation!” And each frizzed, golden-brown lock which saturated the marvelous wheat fields had gently bowed to the prevailing breeze as a servile knave would to his revered queen. The pristine water undulated as the majestic breeze brought forth the scattered leaves that had recently fallen from the crowded branches of trees. And footsteps sounded.
...The noise echoed recklessly throughout paradise; the crickets ceased their amorous music, the sparrows departed with celerity and vigilance, the water no longer pattered against the surface of rocks with the same determination or effect. Paradise, for the time being, was lost.
...A bundle of grey rain clouds began to form above head, and it wasn’t long before the empty sky transformed itself into a breeding ground for tumultuous weather. Raindrops began to spatter, and each hit the ground with equal severity as the last, but its seriousness was lost again to the reverberating sounds of footsteps that incessantly grew more dominant.
...“Goddamn rain”, cursed the wandering stranger, donning a disgruntled countenance coupled with eyes capable of staring down a lion. He exhibited a head of hair that itself was a field of wheat. However, his crop was in dire need of a combing over, for it had grown uncontrollably and had been curling and reaching in every direction known to man. The increasing amount of water which had been covering the wanderer had yet to have an apparent effect upon his untamable hair. The rain grew harder, and still the man plodded through the lost paradise, taking pleasure in the seeing the insurgent river overflow, or the once majestic wheat fields profusely bleeding mud. With each large stride the man took, he left a large, lasting imprint upon the newly loosened soil. He treaded along with little concern for neither himself nor his environment, and he took his time when venturing through the vast fields of wheat. The rain poured on.
...The wandering man, following his departure from the depressed paradise, came upon a long road, recently constructed. Upon seeing this ongoing road, the man threw his pack to the side, and he uncontrollably hooted and snickered as would a convict peremptorily freed on grounds meriting his early departure. The laugh lasted a full two minutes, at the end of which he desperately collapsed in a paroxysm into the puddles of murky water, from which he would never again see the light of day. His face no longer expressed an emotion or a thought; it now only served as an identifier for the man and his corrupt soul. The rain’s intensity soon died out, as did the full storm cloud cover. The setting sun again laid its outstretched arms around its child, Earth.
...The crickets and sparrows returned, and soon the muddy water had eradicated itself from the purified pool. Life as it was known before man interrupted was restored.
...The noise echoed recklessly throughout paradise; the crickets ceased their amorous music, the sparrows departed with celerity and vigilance, the water no longer pattered against the surface of rocks with the same determination or effect. Paradise, for the time being, was lost.
...A bundle of grey rain clouds began to form above head, and it wasn’t long before the empty sky transformed itself into a breeding ground for tumultuous weather. Raindrops began to spatter, and each hit the ground with equal severity as the last, but its seriousness was lost again to the reverberating sounds of footsteps that incessantly grew more dominant.
...“Goddamn rain”, cursed the wandering stranger, donning a disgruntled countenance coupled with eyes capable of staring down a lion. He exhibited a head of hair that itself was a field of wheat. However, his crop was in dire need of a combing over, for it had grown uncontrollably and had been curling and reaching in every direction known to man. The increasing amount of water which had been covering the wanderer had yet to have an apparent effect upon his untamable hair. The rain grew harder, and still the man plodded through the lost paradise, taking pleasure in the seeing the insurgent river overflow, or the once majestic wheat fields profusely bleeding mud. With each large stride the man took, he left a large, lasting imprint upon the newly loosened soil. He treaded along with little concern for neither himself nor his environment, and he took his time when venturing through the vast fields of wheat. The rain poured on.
...The wandering man, following his departure from the depressed paradise, came upon a long road, recently constructed. Upon seeing this ongoing road, the man threw his pack to the side, and he uncontrollably hooted and snickered as would a convict peremptorily freed on grounds meriting his early departure. The laugh lasted a full two minutes, at the end of which he desperately collapsed in a paroxysm into the puddles of murky water, from which he would never again see the light of day. His face no longer expressed an emotion or a thought; it now only served as an identifier for the man and his corrupt soul. The rain’s intensity soon died out, as did the full storm cloud cover. The setting sun again laid its outstretched arms around its child, Earth.
...The crickets and sparrows returned, and soon the muddy water had eradicated itself from the purified pool. Life as it was known before man interrupted was restored.