OctaviusHunter
12-10-2005, 02:59 PM
Here's part of a short story I'm polishing:
I take a walk, generally, every night; my evening constitution to use an antiquated phrase. Walking in the evening with nothing but the stars and the dark sharpens my senses and strengthens my connection to the world around me. It also supplements the qigong and meditation I practice daily.
The stars twinkled and there was a light, refreshing breeze tousling my hair. I could smell the river as I walked and some birds flew overhead, probably gossiping about me, out walking after dark.
I was walking a little later than usual; evening service ran later than normal. When Pentecostals really “do” church it tends to run a little long. Because it was later in the evening, it was quieter than normal, which was nice because there were fewer cars driving about. As I walked through the duck park, I thought, “Something’s wrong, the ducks are never this quiet.”
The practice of qigong and the strengthening of one’s internal energy tends too sharpen the senses; I’ve discovered over time that I see better in the dark and hear more acutely when I’m actively practicing qigong.
People tend to get a little weird about Christians who practice the internal arts of Asia but as far as I’m concerned qi and internal energy are just another part of our created anatomy like blood and lymph and the Asians were the one’s that refined the strengthening of it, much like the Russians were really the one’s who perfected the art and practice of power lifting.
Something sounding like a struggle broke through my little philosophical revere’. I turned left and began walking toward the river. The sounds grew louder and there were two distinct male voices.
The river area is always darker than other areas. I don’t know if it’s the darkness of the water combined with the overhanging trees, but everything gets darker and it feels like you’re walking into a surreal tunnel. The water rushed and slapped the rocks and I could smell the dampness of the sand and muck. The only light was the moonlight cracking through the tops of the trees. It’s always colder by the river even thought it was late August.
I walked faster and my heart began to race a little. I became very aware of my breath; sounds and movement came into sharper focus.
I was walking very quickly as I saw two shapes closer to the river just at the bend; they were obviously struggling. As I watched, the aggressor forced the victim to one knee. I could hear the victim begin pleading as the aggressor unzipped his pants and began to force the victim’s head to his crotch.
I take a walk, generally, every night; my evening constitution to use an antiquated phrase. Walking in the evening with nothing but the stars and the dark sharpens my senses and strengthens my connection to the world around me. It also supplements the qigong and meditation I practice daily.
The stars twinkled and there was a light, refreshing breeze tousling my hair. I could smell the river as I walked and some birds flew overhead, probably gossiping about me, out walking after dark.
I was walking a little later than usual; evening service ran later than normal. When Pentecostals really “do” church it tends to run a little long. Because it was later in the evening, it was quieter than normal, which was nice because there were fewer cars driving about. As I walked through the duck park, I thought, “Something’s wrong, the ducks are never this quiet.”
The practice of qigong and the strengthening of one’s internal energy tends too sharpen the senses; I’ve discovered over time that I see better in the dark and hear more acutely when I’m actively practicing qigong.
People tend to get a little weird about Christians who practice the internal arts of Asia but as far as I’m concerned qi and internal energy are just another part of our created anatomy like blood and lymph and the Asians were the one’s that refined the strengthening of it, much like the Russians were really the one’s who perfected the art and practice of power lifting.
Something sounding like a struggle broke through my little philosophical revere’. I turned left and began walking toward the river. The sounds grew louder and there were two distinct male voices.
The river area is always darker than other areas. I don’t know if it’s the darkness of the water combined with the overhanging trees, but everything gets darker and it feels like you’re walking into a surreal tunnel. The water rushed and slapped the rocks and I could smell the dampness of the sand and muck. The only light was the moonlight cracking through the tops of the trees. It’s always colder by the river even thought it was late August.
I walked faster and my heart began to race a little. I became very aware of my breath; sounds and movement came into sharper focus.
I was walking very quickly as I saw two shapes closer to the river just at the bend; they were obviously struggling. As I watched, the aggressor forced the victim to one knee. I could hear the victim begin pleading as the aggressor unzipped his pants and began to force the victim’s head to his crotch.