Night blanketed the region. The sky was completely devoid of stars and blacks and violets - lights from the bustling city and now quiet suburbs bleached them in a orangey-pink. A few cars passed on their way to either point A or point B. The hour passed for pedestrians and landed on delivery hour. Those that were nocturnal scurried about in the trash cans or readying to return to their dwelling. A freeway separated the wild nature from the built nature. This particular freeway had a gas station waiting to be refueled. 

     “What a beautiful night out. It truly is spectacular to walk home when they haven’t changed the bulbs in the street lights yet,” he said while staring into the abyss of the sky. “To think that you don’t just look upon a flat canvas and see a bunch of sparkly, white Christmas lights. But that we’re just a simple fish tank submerged inside an apartment beneath the ocean. Heh, more than that - amidst all this,” he sighed. “He stopped and said it was beautiful only when he created you,” he turned and bit the bitter coldness that was loneliness. A breeze began and he adjusted the hood on his jacket to better protect his ears and neck.

     The trucker finished his cold,stale coffee with still a bit to go, then refuel the station, then go to the fill up point, and then finally rest at the first checkpoint. The road block farther up state put him several hours behind schedule - hours he had to make up for by sacrificing sleep. He’d done it before and knew he could do it, but something about winter on the road just always seemed to entice sleep faster. He edged for a bit more gas to avoid a disaster like that.

     He took a deep breath to exhale the extra sting of the cold now that he came to the fact he had been day dreaming again. Hands in his pockets, he kept moving forward, home was only a bit a way and although he enjoyed staring into the night - swore to never enjoy it until he found, again, the one person who made it immaculately enjoyable. Then he began to dwell on how tired this insomniac expedition had made him and how he couldn’t wait to snuggle into his always warm comforter.

     In the vast expanse of blackness, a single blue speck lay in the perfect path a phenomenal event. Set in play centuries back before there were gas stations that needed refeuling and street lights to veil the sky, a fragment of an asteroid escaped a perilous journey towards a distant star. Over the years it collided with other space debris and changed course quite a bit, but it’s current trajectory was a clear shot through part of a hemisphere of a lonely blue planet. Stars pleading with this blue planet to look upon them once more, cheered on this fragment in hopes that it might stir in the hearts of the planet’s inhabitants. A long marathon it had, but in a bit, it will have crossed its finish line.

     By this point, a political gesture to cut unnecessary expenses, closed the sole agency charged to look upon the forgotten void and inform the media of astral shows. The documentation of the fragment approaching the atmosphere never finalized before the final signature and military satellites will simply turn their backs as it poses no threat. Some scientists will be sipping coffee or tea looking through telescopes, others sleeping, and others dreaming.

     This is unusually busy for an intersection at this hour. He thought waiting for a gap in the cars or technology to recommend when a safe time to cross would be. Unusually un-irritated, he merely sighed once more and just stood and stared into the sky at a particularly different flickering star in the sky. A doze was quickly approaching him and he began to day dream - or rather day-mare about once happy times.

     Completely irritated that he had managed to keep her up this long since her dream about him, she donned some layers and ventured outside. Choosing a rather comfortable spot on the lawn, she plopped down and laid her hands beneath her head and stared - attempting to connect the dots and find shapes in the clouds.

     Feeling a feeling quite similar to having one’s insides solidified and then removed without any prior incisions, he clenched his fists and tried to focus on pretending he was a dragon as his breaths visibly escaped him. It was weird because whenever this happened he felt her feelings, but dismissed them as insanity. He usually came to quite a sensible argument and proceeded with his day, but this night. And on this particular night, he saw a shooting star. For mere child’s play he wished to pass a message along that she wouldn’t throw away or burn. And then he saw another and a little bit after that, another.

     The driver, now having found a station that played anti-sleep music, merged onto the off ramp and slurrily signaled that he was approaching his destination. With his heater out, sleep was slowly drowning him.

     She was just about to drift off when a rather large cloud moved away from by her feet and revealed a spectacular show of colour. She wormed her way a feet back and propped herself against a a shadow to watch the sky’s play.

     He soon realized this was no ordinary meteor shower as different rocks began to burn different colours in their path. Finding a rather clean area of sidewalk to lounge upon and gaze, he sat - then lounged.

     The fragment was greeted by earth’s space debris. In celebration, they fell to close to the gravity well and lined the approach of the little survivor. Different debris were made or tainted with different metals and salts. Their colours ranged from bright reds to pure whites to vibrant greens and purples. A path was cleared en route of the soaring space rock.

     They quite much enjoyed the astral show and waited to see if there would be a couple of stragglers. Then they realized an oddly flickering star in the middle of where the show was was getting bigger and brighter. They were struck with awe as beating, pure white light splashed into the atmosphere in a ripple of gas exchange. Immediately it changed colours to a rather beautiful blue and earth green for being lights of scorching rock. It left a fizzing trail of spiraling fragments and space dust in white.

     The driver turned onto a now quiet road preparing for the next intersection to perform his U-turn. Distracted by a radio call and a wobbling tire, he came to the intersection.

     He rolled with the fragment wishing it could have landed by him. Unaware of the semi truck that was coming around the corner by the daze of what he just saw, he remained in the confines of the bike lane. Eyes closed, he wished he could’ve shared the sight with her. Now rather annoyed by his senses alerting him to the noise of industry, he remembered where the roll took him and tried to assess from where the tuck was coming from. He looked up and was instantly blinded.

     The driver had approached the intersection too fast.

     She was still locked in eye contact with the hurling space rock coming toward her. She didn’t feel a rushed urgency to move, just stare. And even though, she had a boyfriend, her deepest thoughts wished a science nerd from her past could’ve been there - this time anger didn’t well up at the thought of him. This time a rock cratered where she had lain at this beginning. It’s shape vaguely resembled a perfect heart. Free of blemish, ready to be sanded into a shiny blue-green krystaline. She waited for it cool and went back inside to turn on her computer.

Friend one had just made it to the back of the stage when he stopped. Mostly because the stage, project, and entire competition disappeared from all around him and left him sitting in a chair out looking an empty audience - but also because he refused to abandon a friend. Way down down center stage stood what appeared to be a conductor clad in pristine white garb with a krystal conductor’s stick. All around him sat the instrumentalists - faceless bodies save friend two on lead piano, Dinklespam on clarinet, and an unfamiliar face on lead violin (the section where sat friend one). Lead violinist turned to friend one, “Better use the bathroom now, we start the whole thing in a few minutes.”

     Once again confused, “I don’t have…” Friend one was cut off by a sudden urge in his bladder. Accusingly, “You put pee in my bladder!”

     Lead violinist payed no attention, “Time is running out.”

     Friend two glared back at the shuffling from the opening section. Friend one had made his way behind the amphitheatre to the bathroom, used it, and exited. To his expected surprise, his step out of the bathroom was a step into coastal waters. It is important to note here that although it is coastal water, this body of water lies between the now vanished bathroom and the amphitheatre. Cheers and jeers now muffled out across the water as he swam back; upon reaching the entrance guard one announced, “Ticket.”

     To this, friend one shuttered, “I-I’m in th-the orchestra. L-leading section.”

     Guard two, “Why are you shivering? And if you’re in the orchestra what are you doing out here.”

     “I h-had to use the ba-bathroom a-a-and this water is freezing.”

     Guard one, “Fine.” The water, shivering, and guards disappear.

     Lead violinist, “Ready? Remember to put feeling into your solo.” Looks directly at friend one with a death stare as friend two deathly glares.

     Friend one - horrified, “When did I get a solo?”

     Friend two, “When you were in the bathroom, right before you left for you requested it.”

    A crisp tap-tap-tap resonated throughout the air. The crowd drew silent as they darkened and the instruments lightened. The conductor pointed to friend one who struggled to memorize the opening solo at the last minute. All eyes turned to him as he steadied his instrument and readied his bow. The conductor nodded - as the last tap’s echo faded, so a peacefully distant cry played through listening ears. Three enraged eyes beamed to the source as the solo continued, completely off notes. As the cry faded, the bow was tipped forward and brought up to recognize the cry as a wail -switch - the wail become a firm sound. Confident in his ability - closing his eyes to the now slowly fading glares - sorrow en-captivated as heart-felt trembling echoed. The conductor approved onward, the lead violinist readied for an unannounced cue. As instantly as eyes watered so were hearts comforted by thallow notes resonating a hope for solace. The conductor left the violinist alone as he began an interlude to the rest of the orchestra and pointed to the drums. He drew a pattern of feint and slow beats building to audible and paced - laying base to the entire show. Tears of joy flowed from the audience who understood the tale encouraging further the lullaby to the first cry.

     The lead violinist, encouraged by the on the spot solo, recognized an inconspicuous beam in the eye from the conductor and lead in the rest of the section. Being the only, friend two chimed in hastened at first with the piano, but slowly gave into the vibrant colours by the two sections already playing. Friend one recognized the offer and spun off into a duet as the rest of his section rested from their intro. They first went back and forth from past entanglements, but slowly met each other note for parallel note until the conductor faded the drums out and let them play. The audience laughed as a picture of a one-on-one snowball fight painted the stage. Randomly, friend one was moved from his section to sitting back to back with the piano - closed eyes still lazily engaged with peace of a new spring. The violin glistened into being an older youth escorting the piano’s beautiful youth through a riverside forest cascaded by the winds section. Up from the crossroads approached a couple on separate paths - one played by a trumpet and the other the clarinet. The trumpet called to the violin as the clarinet called out. The violin sighed a farewell to the trumpet to find the piano duo-ed with the clarinet.The violin plead to the piano persistently till lashed out against. The symphony drowned out the solo violinist whose back was now to an empty wall. The conductor was calmed through the hastening of the tempo. Note played after note till the audience felt rushed and clung to the edge of their seats with a nimble few waiting for the original duo to play once more. The fanciful hollowness of the clarinet played with the piano in a glass case built by distant horns and cellos. The violinist ignorant to his bloodied neck fingers tried once more, the conductor sternly assisting him with his spare hand. A spare cry muttered as thallow pain sprang from his fingers. The sections, now playing in full, refusive to let him in for his syncing to the trumpet so easily.

    He recognized the flow of the conductor’s hands. He eyed the conductor and played The Wailing of the Forsaken. Audience members now falling out of their seats as the violinist now stood and moved forward to down stage right. The clarinet cut itself off with a shriek and the conductor arrested all but the drums. It opened with a moan not distant from that of a sad song’s verse. Heavy laden with the sound of grief he let it’s strings vibrate out to a curdling silence. The drums rapped in rhythm of their heart beats. The drummer thumped the kick again-the conductor stopped him-the base of the drum was countered by the sound of summer. Vibrant and flowing with life - birds chirped in harmony to the picking of a flower. The flower was offered in query. Everything stared, desiring the violinist to answer the question. A few confused eyes reassured themselves with the conductor’s flat hands. Silence insisted, the audience pressed each others backs - writhed by the wanting of sound. Trembling hands fumbled for the notes to answer, shallow breaths attempted to draw in the audience. With a rap of his wand, the conductor suffocated the latter instrument - the hands no longer fumbled. A melody of sweet harmony and utter beauty was birthed. The flower was braided into a drape flowing down the back of the beautiful youth. 

     The conductor signaled a reprise by the horns - announcing the setting of glowing red sun a fore the details of swirling grays, orange, and pinks produced by the cellos, lead violinist, and flutes. Silence - night - settled. A stray flute blossomed into the air followed by an explosion of a percussion.This played in rhythm as the audience saw fireworks against a chorus of stars. The snares and cymbals played the finale drowned out by the BOOM  of a tribal drum. The silence had tucked the audience in for the night. The instrumentalists laid their pieces to rest. The conductor turned with arms reaching to the side - wand flicking inconspicuously to the right. As the audience went to congratulate the evenings story, a bow was pulled across bloodied strings. Keys pecked in tune of a starry night. The two now fervently playing their final piece - jaws dropped as each played multiple parts at once. The piano drawing a vale and spattering it with flickering stars also constructed a smooth, wooden floor with a moonlight view. The violin, played as a whole orchestra in one, resonated with a tune worthy of a dance. A crowd now gathered on the floor, each column had a pair. Slow was the initial build up - slow was the start of the dance. Feet tapped in syncing to the tune. Then, as a unit, the pairs stepped forward (some backwards) - a twang of tune - a step to the side - round went the lady guests. Repeated until the rise of twilight - the extras disappeared - the stars flickered brighter - the conductor with a grin to his audience. All twas left was guest one and guest two stepping, stepping, turning, and sometimes twirling the night’s final dance. The last string played. The final key stroked. A final, slow twirl and the two engaged in each others eyes, the violinist gasping - blood rushing off the soaked violin. Friend two stood from the piano, friend one stepped closer - neither breaking the conversation their eyes were holding. A thunderous applause from the audience shook the amphitheatre’s foundations to it’s very corner stone.

     Friend one took a stray, random floating blue lilly still without breaking contact. With the bleeding hand he took friend two’s hand meeting the base of their gaze with the flower. A radiant smile beamed from her face. (Friend one did in fact mutter her name here, but as the audience began it’s standing ovation, so was her name drowned out). “I can’t hear you,” she yelled.

     He repeated, “As lightening as this is,” he beamed, “I don’t know to play the violin except for when I played a nursery rhyme many years back.” 

    She laughed, “I thought I was the only one going mad with your craziness. I don’t know how to play the piano much either.”

     He handed her the flower and gestured an apology for the blood, “So’re we good again?”

     She leaped from her spot behind the piano and embraced him with the force of a constricting snake, “We will be, now shush. Don’t ruin the moment.” All but three were the last to depart, two embraced and one standing…oh! And the janitor, but he’s in the back. “I know.”

    He looked quizzical, “You know what?”

    “You were debating on when would be the right time to speak again. And you were about to say, ‘I love you’ when I said, ‘I know’. Am I wrong?”

    He let his shiftyness speak her accuracy, “Well there’s a whole couple languages I coulda said. For starters: elephant shoes, allahcuzoo, kokorodesune, ummm perhaps my favourite,” he broke to one knee…mostly because of the pain he was now feeling in his hand. “I love you too.”

    Somewhere the janitor cast a spark from a socket, the third one left walked away the lights going with him. All but the light from a peering moon reflecting a rising sun on the two friends remained.

author’s notes: um, ya…really i feel explanably worthful is that the ending sorta wrapped up more sappy than comical bc i watched tangled before getting back to the end of this. questions, comments, typos, concerns?

ohhhhhh! and yes, the word is thallow its another one of my own creations.

thallow: adj., adv. Used to describe a two part experience in which second or outside part is hallow, but the inside or first part is thick. Example: “The thallow pain in his fingers…” to the core it is a very thick (sharp) pain in the bone, but intitially where the wire has cut him it hurts less and differently. Or like the sad cry from a violin, its reverberation is depressive to the heart the closer to the string it resonates from, the more eerie it is.

Summer’s late afternoon settled over the landscape bringing a wave cool, refreshing air into the where a bouts of this conundrum. A tale of two friends sitting by a workstation to further their crafting of a krystal sculpture. Everything was going fine as the two laughed, lived, and lived some more - then in the evenings they would part in sharing salutations with families and return for a final good night - and on the side they’d do the some more laughing because the one friend practiced medicine. That it is only an important piece of information because i just needed a better ending to that very long sentence. So as their sculpture began to take shape, the comedian friend noticed that the other comedian friend - who it should be noted was actually a comedian - was laughing less and sculpting less. Then this happened: … . Then they spoke some words that went something like how words are typically typed. Impersonal, confusion, laughter after the mix up then total totalness - that was just a paraphrasement. This is how it happened:

     Dusk was setting in over the still yet to be named area that i totally won’t name until a better time and not just because i can’t think of a name. Anyways, dusk was setting in when … happened so now the first friend, “Wait what?” He exclaimed even though it was in question form. “I thought we could enter the project together?” Utter confusion was his expression because up until now they crafted separate pieces for different competitions. He figured since his competition dropped off the earth after setting out to prove that it was round, friend two would be flattered. 

                   By the way just so you won’t start wondering, neither friend will be named…EVER…

     Friend two was a fan of sorts of separate pieces, “I just don’t want it to get in the way of our project.” Of course when the last letter was shared it was more intrigued-ragefull with a hint of concern than just concern. “I mean think about it, really.” This look was somewhat of a puppy faced pwease.

     “I did and I have and I think it’ll be a splendid idea to finish our project and let the world see it.”

     Friend two wrapped an arm around friend one, spun to face the work in progress and then put thier own arm around friend one, “Found this laying around, need a hand?” Was the easy approach to what was coming up next. Friend one was just all the more confused. “See, I’ve heard from an extra source that our project should be shown to the world when it’s ready.” Friend two gestured to the incomplete sculpture during this with the limp arm. “And in honour of that, I also got a great new idea.”

     Friend one was at this point in a further state of confusion because the sculpture that a second ago was on its work stand - now held up his hands. Then he remembered to grab onto it before it dropped and shattered. “Such as? And how did it get from down there to up here?”

     Friend two, during that explanation went off to gather some tools, returned. “Well instead of our current vision, how about we  go with something a bit more abstract.”

     “Such as?”

     “Like it would look awesome if you don’t add on to what we agreed you would and instead, work on the lights around the stand.” The sculpture had once again, in a matter of an eye blink, went from straining the muscles of the friend to resting peacefully on the stand - as expect-able, once this realization hit the friend, he was quite surprised…and confused. “And while you’re doing that, I’ll add some things that should make it a bit abstract.”

     A light bulb was now perched in his still ‘sculpture holding’ hand open-ness. Aside, “The ‘ell did this light bulb come from?” To the friend, “OK, I guess.” And with dog’s head cocked confusion, “what?” It should be noted that the light bulb dangling above his head still hadn’t turned on because it was in his hand. “You want me to abandon the project while you keep at it, but also by adding someone else’s ideas?”

     With no concern for confusion or attention because of a preoccupation with adding the new ideas to the sculpture, “Yes, what do you think? Be honest.”

     It finally occurred to him that the light bulb came from the socket above him so he began screwing it in, “I think it is a horrible idea. It was supposed to be our project.”

     Shivers now went down his spine as the spare arm from before once again wrapped across his shoulders. It spake, “But I like the idea, the other person likes the idea, so it should look better.”

     Friend two now decided it was time for some input, “If it doesn’t work, then you’ll be let back on” The new, It, now began helping with sculpting.

     Friend one retired for the time being. Partly because he had nothing to do with all his newly aquired materials, but mostly because he needed a break to ease his head of just what exactly happened. So he returned some time later, “Ok, so what exactly happened?”

     Friend one annoyingly turned away from the project, “We just felt that there should be some change. Got a problem with it?”

     “Yes, it’s our project.”

     It spoke, “Right, ‘our’ project.”

     Friend one, “Dinklespam! I shoulda known it was you.” Then completely, unaccusingly to friend two, “So your just going to abandon our project?”

     “I’m not abandoning anything. And what do you have against Dinklespam?”

     Author’s aside: mwhahahahahaha! I named a character and it completely threw you off guard. Especially with its reference to an old cartoon on Nick. Just felt I should rub in the exasperation that there is finally a name to a character…

     “You’re working on a completely new project with the neighbor known for selling beautiful creations for spam.”

     “I only did that…and what about you,” yes a name would’ve been put here, but as it were, a cat jumped onto a shelf and knocked over metal ware creating a loud noise drowning the name out. Dinklespam continued, “Let’s just all get along here so we can go back to working on our project.”

     Friend one, completely outraged that there’s no defense or sympathy from friend two as to their original art work,      “Except that, you won’t let me in on the project! I would love to get back to ‘our’ project, but it’s in the corner!”

     Friend two, “I’m working on a new project now, if you don’t like it then leave. It will probably be for the better anyways since your the judge for the competition now.”

     In the course of this, friend one went from enraged at Dinklespam to being clothed in judge’s attire and given a mallet shaped pen. His confusion now showing like an ogre’s dumbness, “How did I? When did? I’m not a judge!” He then stubbed his toe on the old sculpture that had transported itself from the corner to right in front of him, the inscription read: Strike with shatter to abandon. He asked when was that put on there, but no one payed attention - he then noticed an inscription on his pen: Shatter. “I swear I just feel like I’m the target of some dry humour story.”

     Friend two, “You know what? I’m tired of you constantly annoying me and pissing me off.”

     Dinklespam, “Yeah, just let your friend be if you still want to work on the project. But understand that no matter what you choose,” Dinklespam gave a very stern but innocent look, “you won’t work on the project because it’s finally mine now.”

     Friend two, “Just leave” She unscribed friend one’s name off everything except a clipboard.

     Friend one, needless to say, couldn’t decide if he was more furious or confused at what just happened. But definitely shamed and aggravatingly astonished at the amount of blind stupidity now infecting the area. Then completely confused as out of no where, they were at a booth at the competition. Looking up pleadingly, “With how everything’s been going so far, can the punch line not actually be a punch…or any other form of physical abuse…please??…??”

     Dinklespam, “Blah. And thats what this piece represents: whatever it was I just said. Can I be awarded my spam now?”

     Judge two, “You’re kidding right? That’s just a formless glop of clay.”

     Dinklespam, “It’s art.”

     Friend one (coincidentally also judge one), “Look Dinklespam, this mallet shaped pen gives us the experience to say, get some. Come back to this league’s competition when you have something artful enough to challenge atleast one other thing here.”

     Friend two, “Stop judging, just because it’s a formless glop of clay doesn’t mean it can’t be used as something.”

     Dinklespam, “Yeah, think of if I had made something. Or better yet, you enter something and I’ll judge it.”

    Judge three, “Do you even understand what a competition is?”

    Friend one, “I have no comment to stupidity, but can that be our new award? As the prize they can get an all expense paid trip to Isle of No Return…Until You Learn How to be Smart and Figure a Way Off.”

    Friend two, “Or your the retard who should be sent there. Look at what I made without you!” A twisted piece of metal and glass is held up.

    Friend one, “I’m confused and car sick just trying to figure it out…”

    Dinklespam, “I don’t care what it is. I think it could be better, but you made it so I won’t say anything.”

    Friend one, “Seriously, does someone have a muzzle or a shock collar that we could use?” Looking around for a response: friend two looks angered, Dinklespam is trying to figure out why that was asked, judge two inconspicuously agrees, and judge three answered ‘i wish’.

    There was now an audience gathered around the stage where sat judges two and three at an aside table and friends one and two and dinklespam stood around the old project. Dinklespam held friend two in a grip with hollow pieces of material, both glaring at friend one who held the pen…and was also ultra confused because he had no clear recollection at how their old project made it onto the stage, into the competition with his name entered whilst he was the judge. He thought, This just doesn’t seem possible. The crowd now occupied with their own creations and the two judges looking over the tallies, the trio had at it once again.

     Friend two spoke because friend one was still trying to add everything up, “Thank You for being one of the extras in my audition.”

     Dinklespam still just held.

     Friend one, “Wait what?”

     Friend two, “Dinklespam says I should enter my art into better competitions. So I am.”

     Friend one, “This is the best, they have categories for virtually every talent. And what do you mean just an extra?”

     Friend two, “Somewhere I know that, but it’s spam against you.”

    Friend one, “So you feel more secure listening to spam than to an a good partner?”

     Friend two, “See, it goes back to the project.”

     Friend one, “How?!”

     Friend two, “You set it aside to be shattered and he stood ready to pick up the pieces.”

     Friend one, “It’s sitting right here. I’ve been trying to get us to keep working on it during this whole confusing whatever it is!”

     Friend two, “Dinkle spam says that I think your trying to shatter it by wanting to work at it.”

     Friend one completely confounded, “Am I seriously the only one who sees the reality of this? Even though I feel that there’s still something I’m not seeing here??”

    Dinklespam, “Just admit it, I win, you lose.”

    Friend two, “I think it’s better if we just leave it here.”

    Friend one, “You do realize the implications of what your saying, yes?”

    Dinklespam, “That you’re going to shatter the project.”

    Friend two, “That now that I’m working on a new project, I’m saying that I never once cared about that project.”

    Friend one, “Just making sure that you know I’m not the one whose been holding the real mallet called shatter.” Friend one walks off into the summer sunset accompanied by a haunting project.

Author’s note: this is officially my first piece in which I used symbolism to transcribe something. even though i hate when english professors and teachers make us find other authors symbolism…i think i understand a bit more now, why they used it. also, this is a new style that i tried out. ive been dying to get back to scott pilgrim vs the world comics so i tried writing how i thought a comic strip would be verbalized…