Creative Writing: The Raven

Following the tire with my hazel eyes, it continued to hasten its pace at swaying. In a few seconds of the continuous motion, it collided with the dying bark of the willowing tree. Instead of the standard action of bouncing back, the tire obliterated in a way that was most abnormal. It shattered like glass against the jagged, coarse bark; the rubber remnants either gone with the wind or lying limp upon the parched ground. In place of the end knot was the thick rope with split ends from the abrasive impact of the familiar backyard tire to the lifeless tree. I shut my eyes tightly, and then reopened them again. Outstretching a pale hand towards the direction of the rope outline, I traced the new figure that hung from the end knot with my index finger. A silhouette of a female dangled inertly. Moving in closer for a better view, she had a resemblance almost equivalent to mine, body-wise. She had the diminutive stature of a living doll, and flawless skin of an alternate plastic. Her lengthy, raven black hair shielded her visage. Parting her dark locks, the

The trail seemed never-ending and eternal, as it incessantly broadened across the vast, dry grounds of this part of the forest. Desperate, I blindly sprinted what I thought was the last stretch of a mile. Coming across to distinguish the same panorama, suspicions struck me as I confirmed that I had already passed that particular marking point. The views were becoming recurring and repetitive. I understood it all too well. It was the doing of Alice. She undoubtedly did not yearn for my leaving her nightmarish hell of a world. I could not have dealt with the forsaken monochromatic desert any longer. I profoundly longed for the return of my beloved vivacious vegetation. Seeing that that was what I coveted most, I shut my eyes tightly, and scurried on until my heart gave out and my last breath was