Young Writers Society

Sunday

He was now floating, suspended high in the air tormented by the glooming hypothetical phenomena that It is. The subject returning to his perspective a number of times more than he wished it to. The odds were no longer even. Bucky’s only fear was that It could turn into a quantum singularity that would send It into an uncontrollable crescendo. And like that he awoke with the vaguest perspective of what occurred from a land of non-dimensional existence dented to his reality.

Minutes past. Scenes transformed. Stevy laid under an old oak tree with bark mimicking the years that passed beside it. A cigarette erect in his mouth. As Bucky approached him he felt himself apart of the moment, possessed by every hue native to Stevy’s surroundings, and from there he watched, one with the moment. Light was reflected from the sunlight in the grass, it was easy to see why Stevy chose that spot. Bucky decided not to reveal his location. He knelt down beside a shrubbery of blackberries. And watched.

You see Bucky, unlike the soul that surrounded his existence, had a vested interest in purpose. On this journey of self discovery we find him at a point where his thoughts were an endless stream of possibility leading the only way they could, infinity. Imagination was the key to his purpose and with this knowledge he stretched the boundaries of his reality to an unrecognizable perspective. What was yet to be for him was not anticipated. Stevy’s eyes were set on his. Their situations together were slowly becoming more questionable. They both knew that the acquaintance was beneficial. What was this benefit? The question resonated in their eyes as the exchanged the glare. A smile was muffled through Setvy’s emotions. They seemed ambivalent to the reunion of their souls. Bucky walked closer keeping tight to his person. Stevy watched him move closer. And as they met a slow passing of time began, a time only relative to their subjectivity.

“I’ve seen you seeing me.”, Stevy broke the unbearable silence with words that Bucky could not react to. The problem was now clear to them. It had consumed the conversation. “That’s not the point” Bucky bravely stated. “POINT! Is there ever a fucking POINT!” His anger was growing, but to what cause Bucky pondered. A relationship of this manner had many possible explanations to its epistemology. You could argue that both men had indecisive relationships with their secondary caregivers(in both instances their fathers) and so find it hard to harbor a stable relationship with other males in their current lives. Another way of seeing this is that their predisposition of their “quest for knowledge” (to put it lightly) left them with a bad case of a self-fulfilling subjectivity. As the thoughts tumbled upon his mind so did the lifeless look on his face.

Naturally Stevy took offence to Bucky’s lack of consideration,sw an occurrence that was rare yet well defined in their friendship.

“What?”.

“What do you mean what?” Bucky answered.

With a suspicious look upon his visage he extended “What are you thinking about?”

“How is it any of your interest what I’m thinking about”

Bucky knew he was in control of the conversation from this point onwards and so he manipulated to his advantage.

As the narrator I feel my duty is to report fairly the meetings between the two. And I cannot safely articulate the conversation that proceeded without a bias, but you can assume that Bucky had taken full advantage of the opportunity. It was now a rivalry, primal competition of two minds.

The sky turned pink, their eyes florescent through the sunset scenery. It was again a matter of walking, awkward conversation but this time a push. And another. A stare. A hardened fist meeting a non-expectant face. When all hope is lost through the medium of intelligence man must resort to a barbaric physical outcry. Two men devoutly protecting their disciplines, conservative and liberal. All reason is thrown out the window in the midst of violence. A pause in time, a heartfelt composition on swings and blows. Liberals down. Bucky watches as Stevy yells in agony. Time warps into a common sensation. His heart beats creating a magnetic rhythm to his thoughts. What had gotten into him.?

This still needs work.

Peace