Whispers of the Misty Mountains
BY JOSHUA ACHORN
On a dreary night in the countryside of Western England, a man named Lez
stood a top of the mountain of loneliness.
“My love, my love, where have you gone?” he cried out, lost in all of his
thought. He stood in stillness looking down at the town below. His sorrow was
100 times worse than anyone’s happiness. His sorrow could easily beat a newlywed couple’s joy. It was a scary time to be around Lez, darkness was all
around him, in the sky, on the ground, and in his heart. He was so broken that
he felt as if his soul had been ripped out by someone more evil than Lucifer
himself. The crystal clear stream of water that filled Lez with joy just a few
weeks prior, were now a dreary sight, needless to say for Lez, that water became sour. Lez’s new view of the world went from sunshine and magic, to
darkness and melancholy. The ghost from his past had caught up to him.
“Daisy my love, why have you forsaken me?” he whispered into the air, hoping, praying, that the wind would blow his words to the ear of his love, the one
called Daisy. His depression was digging him his own grave, his vision was
blinded by a stream of tears. Gloom and shame was Lez’s emotion at this time.
He saw his future as bleak and worthless. His now stern behavior was telling
him to just end it and “fall off” of the mountain.
But Lez fought the temptation and ran off into the misty England night.
PHOTO BY WING CHI-POON
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