Hergest Ridge

“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”
– Shakespeare

An island of peace in a sea of chaos, the only light in the room was the flickering of the TV. Two couches and the TV on a rolling stand were the only items in this small and quiet space. On the other side of the only door into this space, the wickedness schemed and plotted ways to expand into this last nook of sanity. It wouldn’t come with force, but with the determination of water slowly seeping into an oxygen filled container - a container with small crowfoot cracks.

The couple lie on the floor instead of the more comfortable couches. There was still enough time to drink the bottle of champaign, and they intended to take full advantage of that last remaining comfort.

Quiet, they lay there while the wickedness begun to fill the air in the room. Like a deadly gas, it’s concentration getting more lethal. Before it could all come crashing down, they went for the throw switch in the metal box on the wall. The man busted it open after his female companion failed to get the front panel off, revealing the switch. With both their hands on the switch, she turned back at him and kissed him one last time.

Without any recollection of the switch or anything that happened before, the human in the cage watched as the creatures surrounding him drew nearer. Attached to one of the bars was a dart. It was significant, a fact that became apparent only after one of the captors chose to take a leap at the cage. The dart combined with the tube he was holding became a weapon. With deadly precision, the dart entered the creatures neck and ended its life.

With the only weapon used up, the only chance at survival was escape. The cage was open, but surrounded on all sides by the legions of wickedness. Up above, an opening the size of the cage was cut into the ceiling. A system of pulleys hung above the opening, and a rope came down from it - one end attached to the cage, the other to a large weight. Without knowing how this all this began, where the knife in his hand came from, or if cutting the rope would do anything, the man did so and the cage shot up through the opening in the ceiling.

Like a bird out of cage, he soared above the land - he was flying.

The world below was the kind you’ve seen in many a Tim Burton tales; The orange sunset a big pumpkin on the horizon, the dark trees stretching their limbs as if trying to catch a fallen angel, and the land below crawling with activity like an anthill with busy workers. Without explanation, the man’s companion joined him high in the sky, and they flew towards the sunset where their home awaited them. If they hurry, they’ll be home in time for dinner.

This entry was posted on Friday, March 30th, 2007 at 0:05 and is filed under Aspirations. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.