Not Yet, Still Life
Still Life by Fly
He stood alone, in the middle of his self portrait silhouette; with his back to any onlookers. Alone on a small mound of dark dirt where things, indescribable things in front of him, take up all his interest. He remains still, inert. There was no smell, no words or sound of any kind. Wet with wonder he focused on the dabs and streams of light left by the fallen chemtrails. The darker grays of smoke rise a few meters from his gaper stance.
He heard the news right before the power went dead.
“Several super-sized jumbo jets suddenly lost altitude and are reported missing. There are reports the planes have crashed. We are waiting for confirmation.”
After he heard the broadcast he looked out his window from his street level apartment. In the near distance, low on the horizon was what looked like streams of thin ropes of light rising upward.
In only in his estimation he thinks, Its close…real close. The crash is nearby. With this estimate in mind he decides to find the crash site.
It’s big, I tell you…real big, an unimaginable size. The blues, and grays, and blacks and whites all painted in meteoric shapes. A hairsbreadth difference; it’s enough to stick my hand through. I could touch the night between heaven and earth from where I stood.
Author: Fashi Lao Yue
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