..and it's always been far to easy for me to just do nothing" he said.
The tape had finished it's 60 minute roll and the red record button had popped up. The sound was unfamiliar. It was almost as if he'd finished something. The final sentence had acted as a perfect alibi. He’d concluded his documentation. He told of fault and blame and ended with a conclusion. Yes, finally he'd achieved a defined end. It's a shame the end result was little more than a sad story of a misspent youth. No, this to was to act as little or no inspiration.
The light bulb flickered twice, being bullied by a moth, only too cut out. The boy dropped to his knees with a crash. The floorboards barely buckled under his hollow and sunken shadow, the noise created had been responsible for the single solitary picture frame hung, falling from the wall. A shatter of glass and once more onto his face, his distortion shifting into his conscious mind now. So afraid of his fears and onto the conclusion that it was always better to black out then beat himself up or brood alone with the spirit of the stairwell. Tired of changing and feeling short changed. He was spent; hands into a fist; it was always an easy escape he would strived for. Out of this house or better still, out of this town...and with one swift swing to the face he was out and that night may as well have not happened. Wipe it clean, or rip it up, start it over. No, a circle allows no progression. However, a circle does allow a certain amount of confidence.
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