Seeking white lines (short story)

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Seeking white lines (short story)

2pm. The weather is foggy, as it was yesterday, as it will be tomorrow and for the foreseeable future. The search for white lines still continues, and in this search, false recreational white lines are endorsed, sold and snorted. In what are cities of shadows and mists, to make shapes in the midst of its darkness, is to make progress.

Blind men crawling, walking, running, driving. Some cautious, others reckless on approach, careless of surroundings. In the fogs of todays, the hazy yesterdays have a sharpened clarity now, like dusty memories that are polished when visited by a deceptive nostalgia. The signs read to proceed with caution, and in these polluted environments, the wiser desperately try to hold on dearly to those breaths of purity that exist in the ambience.

The majority, however, have become so enthralled and enchanted in these inhalations that the poisonous has become muddled with the sterile and they know no better, and care no more, because their egos and opinions are more sacred to them than the uninfected truths. With every generation the white lines become less visible. The populations become more hysterical, blinder, and more indifferent. More detached, more confrontational, as others alike, bump into them as everyones sight becomes further compromised. 2pms become closer to 7pms.

Cloudless, clear days are but utopian dreams, for every ray of sunlight that peeps hope, is overshadowed by a horizon that threatens of approaching storms. Gusts of winds soon come tornadoes. Clashing narratives. Turmoil soon forecast as pathetic fallacy is hyperbolised. It’s so far gone, people forget to recognise colours, other than the weathers shady greys and the dark reds in the palettes of emotion. Everyone’s parked on the double yellows though they can’t see them, and have yet to realise. The charges will come soon. Crashing and death is the only certainty, the only hint of the colour of conviction in the picture. In the meantime, we seek the white lines, and God guides whom He will.


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