/lit/ - Literature

The wood was a soft grain. It was heavy gray and most likely contained the word “sandle.” The trees from which it were birthed grew thick on the shorelines around this region for thousands of years and were regarded as entities of power and respect by the local tribes. When the first ships began to thunder on the sands and remove these fixtures violence and upset erupted. The tribes and their odd eroticism for those grooved and gray trunks died off and were replaced by low budget time shares. Slowly businesses cropped up to support gambling addictions and dry cleaning and no more was the moon reflective on the black waters. The last traces of the respect and honor of these beliefs were in the beach houses that used this wood. The creak and fiber of the decks and the vibrating stilts painted a landscape of bleak survival that slowly degraded into odd fratricides and sibling rivalries. The vacations were nightmarish escapes that were embarked upon with no regard for conversation or pleasantries. It was an obsession with the old wood and business that drove this migratory wave onto gray sands and desertous stilt walkers that evoked imagery of herders in the dutch regions of europe. It was on those bleached decks that one would find starving brothers and sisters reaching for dried sea oats and wondering if salt was really worth it. The discomfort and knots that the trunks brought were driven hard into the minds of children and classes to venerate these cubist angles were created. Slowly but surely vacations ceased being temporary. Jobs were quit and wives were murdered as abandoned gas stations became universities and sanatoriums became restrooms. Sea water was carbonated and was consumed by these dreamers as "pop" and calories were counted by the trillions.