The man is petrified. There was a time when he would stare into world with his solid stone eyes and panic in his solid stone prison. When he would try to move, to speak, to scream, anything at all, but couldn’t. But that was long ago, the panic has subsided. And yet, he finds that he would still scream if he could. Now, he grieves for the panic, because it gave him something to think about. He wishes he still felt the horror of the new prison, because something, anything, is better than nothing. Every day, he strains to move, to speak, to scream, anything at all, but can’t, and never will.
Carter A. Jackson 1 Minute
Published by Carter A. Jackson
I am eccentric A writer/poet who loves God above all else View all posts by Carter A. Jackson