Cursed mornings.
The accursed sun rises over the landscape like the eye of Sauron, spitefully stabbing me with it’s rays. The air outside slaps me like a cold, wet blanket, suffocating me with it’s chill. I turn to the horde gathered nearby, blue-lipped and angry faced, eyes demanding I explain their lot.
“It’s just the way it is,” I say to them, words failing.
Faces drawn into visions of mute agony and regret, they stare at the pathway before us which brings their transport to destiny.
With a guttural growl, the beast arrives, belching black smoke into the biting cold air. My saddened charges woefully board, resolutely accepting their fate.
I watch the beast trundle it’s way down the path, devouring more small charges as it wanders toward it’s destiny.
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😛 Yeah, just kids getting on the bus. Have a good day!
cogitabunda 