The Tourist
member
Everyone has things that frighten them beyond words. It can be "bumps in the night," loud noises, gore, suspense or even dirge music. The fact is, there are things in this world that terrorize us all.
For me, it's parcels that are about one pound in weight, and addressed to my knife company. It's never good. Within the wrapper is another tortured soul. A servant pushed beyond its design limits. A tool, descended from the feudal samurai, now lowered in rank to scrape footware.
I got back home today from a glorious spin on the Harley. The air was balmy, just a touch of that 'evening cool' to breathe, the roads quick and easy and numerous friends to see at the local dealer. In short, when I think about what it means to be a biker, I imagine days such as these.
But the mail had come, and there was a parcel addressed to "the company." I sliced open the seal and dumped out a tragic entity. For inside the package was a knife, crafted perhaps a month ago, and now in need of dire attention.
My heart froze like a coarse, black stone.
I carried the knife delicately to the freezer and placed it tenderly on a bed of fresh ice. Sleep well, little soldier. For you the horror is over, and the healing is about to begin.
This story will continue...
For me, it's parcels that are about one pound in weight, and addressed to my knife company. It's never good. Within the wrapper is another tortured soul. A servant pushed beyond its design limits. A tool, descended from the feudal samurai, now lowered in rank to scrape footware.
I got back home today from a glorious spin on the Harley. The air was balmy, just a touch of that 'evening cool' to breathe, the roads quick and easy and numerous friends to see at the local dealer. In short, when I think about what it means to be a biker, I imagine days such as these.
But the mail had come, and there was a parcel addressed to "the company." I sliced open the seal and dumped out a tragic entity. For inside the package was a knife, crafted perhaps a month ago, and now in need of dire attention.
My heart froze like a coarse, black stone.
I carried the knife delicately to the freezer and placed it tenderly on a bed of fresh ice. Sleep well, little soldier. For you the horror is over, and the healing is about to begin.
This story will continue...