The Thing


You learn something and grab a branch, spend a few more years finishing projects to get a foothold, graduate to build this pretty independent tree-fort, drinking and eating whatever, whenever; you finish first, second, third, fourth year, and, if you’re realized something you are now more critical of the history of tree-fort designs, and the decorations inside, and, uh, if you spend a few more years to finish a bigger project or work somewhere, you get this glimpse over the trees, seeing something you do not like, but you work to forget it, this thing you saw hanging just outside the edge of the forest, and, well, it kind of freaks you out and inspires you at the same time, bringing you to consider warning the others, to let them know that the thing might have relied on all of us to build forts in the first place, that maybe it had a chainsaw, that maybe it was feeding from apple cores and bottles thrown down from wooden ladders, never worrying about where the garbage went because you felt safe, up there, all alone and far from the ground; well, you postpone your visits to the forts, thinking maybe it had just shown up that day, and maybe only people in houses were at risk, on the ground, below you, and you think that, well, since they hadn’t put in some meaningful work to become civilized and safe and build a tree-fort- as you had- or spent money, time, and sweat- as you had- that, well, maybe it was just one of those capital-M-Moral lessons that grandparents pass on before they pass on, like, don’t think you deserve a slice if you didn’t want to help bake, but, alright, let’s give you some credit, right, let’s say you have the guts, today, that you’ve thought about the thing and broke it down and realized some plan of attack, that you dug deep in your human revenge survival primal persistent adrenaline motherfucking human race shit, that I Will Survive, Bitch, that yes, you should go, it is your duty to go out and help the people on the ground, below you, and who are you to say that a fort is better than a house anyway, that maybe they knew about it, too, down there, and who are you to talk of them like little ants down below, because maybe it was just your point of view, being so far away, so, alright, you visit, and explain yourself to smiles, because they had never seen it, what were you thinking, or, a few of them had seen it, even understood it much better than you- maybe you didn’t need to be up in a fort to see the thing- and in any case sitting by a fire with friends and family was pretty nice, why go out of your way to bother something that wasn’t attacking you, what harm was it really doing out there, beyond the woods, and the more you think they might be right, how it was nice to be warm, seeing that you’ve been sleeping less, realizing that height might not matter, with the saws and all, and, uh, that there was an end to the forest, that you might never have been in control, let alone know anything about anything, seeing that you’ve never walked past the pines.*

colour by YoAz

words by Liam 

see another piece by YoAz here

Author: Word and Colour

words inspired by colour

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