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Age. 36
Gender. Male
Ethnicity. White stuff
Location Sunnyside, NY
School. Rutgers Univ
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Crucible of the Terk
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Daybreak broke, bringing branches burdened by the night's snowfall a little relief. The dead forest was alive with the sound of snow plopping into the pristine white carpet that had laid itself at the trees' feet. But someone... something was dragging its bloody paws through it all, hurling wretched abuse at the serene bucolic scene. A stigma in the world's eye.

The locals simply called it the "Terk." Children shuddered at its distant, anguished howls, women's loins tingled at the rumors of its endowment, and men grew ever anxious fearing the impending confrontation would come too soon. They wanted to be ready, but ready for what? The legends gave only a hint of the Terk's foul existence: stories of genitalia ripped by hand from between the victim's legs; saliva that, upon contact, renders the victim powerless in a hallucinogenic daze; arms strong enough to punch a clean hole right through a goat's belly. The stench! The hair on that thing! Hair everywhere!

It was windy as Hell and snowing like the Dickens. The Terk had had enough of it. It kicked mud into the hole in the bog where it slept and decided to look for better prospects. "A cave," it thought, in a way that only natural instincts can tell a beast to think, "a cave is where I want to be! Natural protection from the elements. Fuck the elements!" The Terk knew the kind of stuff caves were made of. The hard stuff it hurt to walk on. It went where it hurt to walk and finally, it came to a cave.

The Terk entered the cave and it stopped snowing. Already, prospects were looking good. The Terk walked a bit further in and the wind stopped. Things were getting even better. The Terk walked a bit further and it became darker than it had ever seen. Perfect, no more sunlight to disturb its rest. On a roll, the Terk continued even deeper until it stepped on a furry patch. Something comfortable to walk on! To sleep on! The Terk decided not to press its luck any further and bedded down on the soft, warm, furry patch. Long story short, it was a grizzly bear.

The Terk ran limping and bleeding out of the cave and back into the muddy slush. A claw mark down its belly, the Terk knew it was in a bad way. Even worse, the snow had covered its tracks and it didn't know the direction back to the bog. In desperation, the Terk galloped away on three paws, the fourth holding its gut, gushing with blood. It tore through the snow, the brush, the woodland creatures with reckless abandon. Then it tried to tear through the metal beam of a swingset. All went from snowy white to bloody black.

Creak. Crick. Creak. Crick. The Terk was cold and numb and this creaking was giving it a whole new set of attitude problems. The Terk stood on all fours and majestically flung the snow from its mane, limbs, and scabby paunch. The little girl on the swing laughed, "Doggy!" She jumped off and started patting the Terk's head. "Good doggy! Now fetch!" She plucked a stick from the snow and tossed it about six feet.

The Terk... smiled. The Terk never felt this way before. No creature, human nor beast, old nor young, had ever shown it compassion, had ever smiled upon it nor stood near it without recoiling in terror. Something inside the Terk radiated warmth and love. Each step it took toward the stick was hesitant, but it felt so good to place one foot in front of the other. The Terk felt like it was wading not through snow, but through a blanket of pure joy. A new life for the Terk! Grooming, a collar and nametag, and best of all, a doghouse all to its own!

"Honey, come inside! Breakfast— What the FUCK is THAT thing?!" The backdoor flew open and slammed against the siding, bringing patches of snow hurdling onto the gardenia bush that slept beneath the kitchen window. Two shots rang out, and the little girl screamed, or maybe it was the other way around. It didn't matter to the Terk, who was again on the run and shedding blood-drenched snow.

Daybreak broke, and the Terk's spirits broke with it. Not another day of this shit. Not another day of snow, of mud, of the bog, of blood. Of flesh. Of hair. No, fuck this. The Terk plopped into the snow amid the endless forest of plops and plats, a forest of sound, of the relentless sun and its bearing down and melting all who stand against it. We are all snowflakes. Just let go of the branch.
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i have to come back and read this in more detail. i am short on time, and was laughing at your use of loins.
» thaitanic on 2013-02-09 09:54:12

My poetry lurks on a private blog dedicated to it.
» randomjunk on 2013-08-28 03:55:48

Awesome! I wish I got more of a feel about what it looked like. I liked that line at the end, "We are all snowflakes. Just let go of the branch."

RC: I agree completely. A lot of these things are hard to know, but essentially, I'd want a politician with the skills and knowledge to do his/her job.
» jinyu on 2013-08-29 02:20:35

Favorite line: fuck the elements.
» jabberwock on 2013-08-31 10:12:13

re: yep, I am. I've been crushing on him since the day he interviewed me. And it's driving me crazy lol. My coworker at my regular job is friends with him so that's how I got the part time job so easily. It also helps that I have someone to talk to about it, since I kind of can't exactly bring this up to the manager. I do need this part time job, at least for a little while. =)
» LostSoul13 on 2013-09-04 12:57:47

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