crossing

‘Twas night as he walked home. As he reached the viaduct, he stopped, then pulled on to his back a thick rectangular piece of grey carpet. This 2 foot by 4 foot piece of carpet was tossed over his back as if a blanket from the cold, or perhaps a cape. Strange because the night was warm and clear, the stars bright and the lack of wind caused the evening to be very pleasant. As he begun his accent, he held the carpet piece corners, one in each hand as though the carpet where a cape or wings. Certainly any one would know this would not save him from a fall from this mighty viaduct, yet, to him, this is essential to carry this carpet upon his back, as if there is no choice. Once on the viaduct, the nice smooth wide sidewalk was no more but now a rail. Not so thin as to not allow decent footing, but there is a great covering of ice, smooth and thick and translucent, causing him to reach for the handrails that ran on both sides. As he placed his footing sideways to the rail, the handrails instantly changed into broken and busted and twisted. The handrails also were covered in ice, with thick sickles hanging from them causing his hands to loose their hold. The hand railing to his left broke off and fell to the ground far below. He held fast his right hand grip as he himself began to fall. For a moment, the fear of falling to his death over-whelmed him. Panic ensued. Yet, he took another firm grasp of hand railing, pulled the carpet back even on his back, and continued to climb as the fear of falling subsided. Soon, he is beyond the rail, onto some cement stairs, then onto the top of the viaduct. The sidewalk returned, but is now rust colored and crumpling. Loose reddish brown rubble causes his footing to be unstable, but he continues onward. Not just continues, but with joy in his heart. He begins to sing, sing as he never had before. Loudly, beautifully, as he always has known he could, yet never done so before. The beautiful sound of his voice carries far and wide as he hits each note with great grace and volume. He always knew he could sing like this, always. Now, all the World knows as well. Quickly, the song is done as is the top. Decent comes quickly, but near the bottom is a layer of fruit, impeding his path. This is but a mere slight obstacle, not worthy of such name, but rather just silliness. Yes, they are lying side by side, in neat tidy rows. Yes, they are ripe and large and beautiful and... Well, he just has to know. Just as he would reach the bottom, he bends down, taking a nectarine, then lets the carpeting fly away. As he dismounts the viaduct, he takes a nice big bite of the fruit. Oh yes, it is indeed very tasty. Sweet and juicy and as fine a nectarine as he has ever tasted, and he has tasted quit a few! He stopped his walking to enjoy this fruit and a spectator came over to him. This young man professes to being a huge fan and eagerly spoke of awe and bewilderment of this man’s accomplishment. The young fan feels he has never seen such a great achievement, feeling that he could never do so in his simple life time. “No, my friend, that is not truth. For one day you will do the same, just as I have done this day.” The fruit is gone into his belly, only the pit remains. The man tosses that seedling to the ground, stepping on it, grinding it into the earth as he goes upon his way home. Then I woke up for the 3rd or 4th time that night/morning.