Tiny Stranger, Cacophony Swords

Tiny men with tiny swords, sun flashing off pockmarked blades. Blades that have seen slashing, blades these men enjoy flashing, swinging gaily. With nifty bucket helmets fitted tightly to bulbous heads, flared rims, nicked, dull sheen worn, leather chin straps soft and comfortable. Marching clumsily forward, knocking each other about, clashing swords in friendly sparing, always somewhere forward, never ceasing. Sometimes eyes drooping, feet whacking away, the troupe surges together as one to keep the whole.

The stranger, still, perhaps not, treading his own dirt, wearing on slowly what could be his forward. The sword troupe approaches, clanking, flowing, as a strange glowing flock slowing to the pace of treading stranger. Swords speak, the strangers throat echoes those tiny voices, “No!” they shout, “I.” the stranger believes he is. Clanking away drowns out the voices he attempts to hear, this strange troupe falls to string out behind him, then he strains to turn to see only to have them spin off clanking just out of his sight.

Slowly forward feet aching, he pauses, eyes drooping, falling backward slowly on theses tiny strangers, those tiny supporting swords. That anxious troupe, exchanging worried glances, voices never silent he rests as perhaps he always has before. Slowly dreams overcome him twisted with whatever they like them to be, he tosses and turns to wake finding those conscious tatters he has no choice to wear, a little more worn. Oh for that silence of sleep.

He think if he could but climb that nearby tree and be lost among its rustling leaves, those tiny voices may be silenced that are always echoing in his head. Then those damn tiny men lurking below, just standing now, pointing those terrible swords at him, what can the we of him do? We are all of them, they ebb and flow, how nice. Sometimes It would be nice to stamp them into the ground, stamp them until my head is not full of that noise.

It’s all crap anyways, the thoughts, those strings, perhaps, I will collect a large string lasso them all, throw a string over a branch, string them all up. Watch them jerk and twitch until they become what they ultimately are, death.